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pookiiewho · 1 month ago

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LATE NIGHT | MAKI ★

Pairing: Maki (&TEAM) x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None, just pure fluff! :3

Synopsis: Some nights were made to be spent in oversized sweaters, tangled limbs, and the soft glow of movie screens. Your boyfriend, Maki, is the type to bring the chaos of sunshine into your dimly lit living room, turning an ordinary evening into something unforgettable. He’s loud, loving, and yours—utterly and undeniably.

The sound of the front door clicking shut echoes softly through the apartment as you shuffle back into the living room, two mugs of hot chocolate carefully balanced in your hands. Maki’s sprawled across the floor, tangled in way too many blankets and pillows, brows furrowed as he tries to tape together the roof of your makeshift fort.

“Baby, look!” he calls, arms wide and grin even wider. “A fort fit for a queen and her very hot, very talented boyfriend.”

“You’re taking this architecture thing very seriously,” you tease, nudging his side with your socked foot.

He gasps dramatically, looking up at you with a grin. “Excuse me, this is a highly sophisticated structural project. You wouldn’t get it.”

You place the mugs down on the coffee table and plop beside him, eyeing the lopsided pillow roof skeptically. “Yeah, sure, Mr. Engineer. Pretty sure it’s one sneeze away from the collapse.”

Maki turns toward you, eyes glinting with mischief. “You’re just jealous of my brilliance.”

“Right. So brilliant you’ve been fighting with a blanket for the past twenty minutes.”

He leans in suddenly, close enough for your noses to nearly touch. “Say that again, baby.”

Your breath catches slightly at the way his voice drops, the smile still tugging at his lips. “I said... you’re doing amazing, babe.”

He laughs, pulling you into his lap. “That’s what I thought.”

You stifle a laugh as you tap his arm. “But..I think it’s lopsided.”

“Baby, it’s abstract,” he says, tugging you closer by the hem of your hoodie. “Like love. Like me.”

“Mm, sure Shakespeare.”

You melt into him easily, his arms wrapping around his waist, your cheek pressed against his chest. He smells like clean laundry and hot chocolate, his warmth seeping through the oversized hoodie you stole from his closet earlier.

With the fort finally secured (after some excessive taping and very questionable knots), the two of you crawl inside, settling into a pile of softness. The TV flickers to life, playing the opening credits of a Studio Ghibli film—your pick. He doesn’t even pretend to protest.

Halfway through the movie, Maki starts playing with your hair absentmindedly, twirling strands around his fingers while you rest your head in the crook of his neck. His thumb brushes slow circles over your shoulder.

“You're good?” he asks.

“Very. You're warm.”

“I'm multifunctional,” he replies, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Boyfriend. Heater. Engineer. Poete. Human pillow.”

“You forgot snack thief.”

“I prefer 'popcorn guardian'.”

You smile and tilt your head up slightly, he catches your mouth in a kiss so tender it steals your breath—not rushed, not eager, just full of warmth and quiet love. His thumb rests at the edge of your jaw, and when he pulls back, it’s only to kiss you again, this time a little deeper, like he’s savoring every second.

He hums, warm and low, before trailing another soft kiss to your cheek. Then another. And another.

“Maki,” you laugh, squirming gently as he peppers your face with kisses like a kid who just discovered affection. “You’re gonna smother me.”

“Good,” he says, grinning against your skin. “I’m your boyfriend, it’s literally my job to kiss you stupid.”

You roll your eyes but don’t stop him. Not when he finally presses a lingering kiss to your lips—gentle, slow, and just right.

You giggle, turning slightly so your arm wraps around him. “You’re my favorite human pillow, you know.”

Maki hums, content. “You’re my favorite everything.”

You smile against his skin. “Just figuring that out now?”

“Nah. Just reminding you.”

You snort. “And also, you're the clingiest pillow.”

He gasps again, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Bold of you to insult the man keeping you warm.”

You tilt your head back, eyes meeting his. “Bold of you to assume I need you to keep me warm.”

He narrows his eyes playfully. “You wound me, sweetheart.”

“You’ll survive.”

Maki rolls his eyes before smirking. Then, he leans in, brushing a kiss over the tip of your nose before resting his forehead against yours. “You make everything better, you know that?”

Your fingers tighten slightly around his hoodie. "You’re not so bad yourself."

“Shut up, I better not be,” he grins. “I’m your boyfriend. That’s a full-time job, and I’m killing it.”

“With all the professionalism of a man who just duct-taped a pillow to a chair.”

He laughs again, the sound vibrating in your chest. “Don’t hate the artist, babe.”

Another movie rolls on, but neither of you are really watching now. You trade soft kisses, tangled fingers, sleepy smiles. The comfort wraps around you both like the blankets covering your limbs. Maki’s attention flickers between the screen and the way your eyelashes flutter as you try not to fall asleep. He shifts, brushing his thumb across your cheek, and whispers, “You’re gonna fall asleep again before the movie ends, aren’t you?”

“No,” you lie, voice already drowsy.

“You always do.”

You poke his side lazily. “You love it.”

“Of course I do. It means I get to hold you longer.”

Neither of you says a word, but the peace says everything.

The credits start to roll, Maki’s hand still resting on your waist, thumb brushing gentle strokes through your shirt. Your forehead is tucked under his chin, and his heartbeat thumps steady beneath your ear.

Eventually, your breathing slows, your hand still resting against his chest. He tucks the blanket tighter around the both of you, carefully so he doesn’t wake you. Then he sighs, leaning his head back against the pillows, eyes on you instead of the screen.

And just before sleep pulls you under, you feel his lips at your temple, hear his soft whisper— “Night, baby. Love you.”

And you smile, because you do too.

discover more of my work here <3

taglist: @skzzsya mon sushi pref😜

#&team x reader #&team #&team x you #kpop oneshots #kpop #jo &team #maki &team #yuma &team #ej &team #maki x reader #k &team #fuma &team #taki &team #harua &team #nicholas &team

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ashwhowrites · 3 months ago

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I'm so happy to see you back! 💜

I'd love to make a request about fem reader x Eddie Munson but with buffyverse in the background, if it's okay, and with prompt “I could just stare at you forever” “Creep”

I thought about reader who just finished watching Buffy the vampire slayer and she's kinda obsessed with it, especially vampires and especially Spike ofc 😅

Even Eddie got kinda jealous listening about Spike, so he wanted to get inspired by hia style.

Cutting his hair - definitely big no no (reader loves it)

Bleaching by himself - too dangerous

So he bought very similar black coat to Spike's coat. Reader is obsessed!

Thank you for your time 💜 And once again, so happy to see you here again.

I'm happy to be back! I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting ❤️

Vampire jealousy

Eddie was a very jealous person. Which made sense as it felt nearly impossible to get anyone to like him. He was slightly embarrassed it took him until high school to get a girlfriend but with the girlfriend he had, well worth the wait. But he was constantly stressed that someone would sweep her off her feet and take his place.

He prepared what to do when a guy made the moves on her and mentally challenged himself against anyone who looked at her. Luckily everyone knew they were together and her eyes were locked on Eddie always. He got a little comfortable with the idea of not being jealous of anyone.

He was not prepared to feel jealous of a fictional vampire on a TV show. Sure, he thought the show was pretty cool with all the fighting and supernatural stuff. But the more his girlfriend watched it, the more he noticed Spike was brought up quite a bit.

To make it all worse- Spike was the exact opposite of Eddie. Spike had bleached short hair, had an accent, and was muscular. Personally, Eddie believed Spike was a little pathetic following around a girl who had no interest.

"He's just a romantic! I think it's sweet that he doesn't want to give up on her," Y/N argued, Eddie scoffed as she protected her TV boyfriend.

Eddie crossed his arms, "More like creepy. I mean, what do you even like about him anyway?"

"I don't know. I think he's pretty," Y/N shrugged, reaching for the bowl of popcorn that rested on Eddie's lap. Eddie zoned in on the screen as Spike and Buffy began arguing.

"Pretty annoying," Eddie muttered under his breath.

Eddie held Y/N's hand as they walked into the mall. The mission was to find a present for Dustin, but all Y/N talked about was the latest on Buffy.

"So then he's wearing this eyeliner, and two, I didn't know I needed to see Spike in eyeliner. It really popped with his bright hair, too," Y/N fawned. Eddie nodded along, trying to not seem like he was incredibly jealous overhearing his girlfriend talk about how attractive Spike was. He was fiction and knew there was no reason to be jealous. But Eddie wanted some attention,n too.

"Well I wear eyeliner!" Eddie huffed, not able to keep the comment to himself.

Y/N stopped and eyed her boyfriend, a tiny smile on her face. "I know you do, my jealous boy," she teased as she ruffled his hair.

"I'm not jealous!" Eddie argued, taking her hand and continuing their walk through the mall. Y/N laughed to herself but moved on from the subject.

Eddie didn't want to admit to his girlfriend that he was jealous of the attention she gave Spike, so he figured he'd bring her attention back to him.

At first, he thought about cutting his hair, but from the number of times Y/N moaned about how much she loved his hair when his head was between her legs, he figured that was a no.

Then he thought about bleaching his hair, but he didn't want to ruin his hair and kill its length.

Not like he could become a vampire overnight so that was out of the books.

He couldn't talk with an accent without looking dumb.

So he settled on adding something new to his style. The one thing Eddie liked about Spike was his black trench coat. He liked how it fanned behind him as he walked. So Eddie bought one.

He wanted to surprise her with it so he kept it in his closet until their next date.

Y/N sat on Eddie's couch watching TV while he took his time getting ready.

"Are you almost done? You are taking longer to get ready than the girlfriend," Y/N teased.

"Oh, hush," he called from the other room. He nervously gave one last look in the mirror before he walked out.

"I'm ready," he said, checking his pocket for his wallet, his eyes down.

Y/N looked away from the TV, spit stuck in her throat as she took in her boyfriend's outfit. She swore the room got hotter as she checked him out. His hair was down, as usual. He has dark eyeliner around his eyes and a black T-shirt with ripped black jeans. His usual belt and sneakers. But there was something different, his jacket.

She couldn't help but feel a little bit of drool down her chin. Eddie felt his wallet and looked up, ready to go. He felt himself freeze at the look in his girlfriend's eyes. It was like she could eat him alive.

"Wow," she breathed. Standing up as she walked over to get a closer look. Her hands landed on his shoulders, feeling the material as she skimmed her hands down his arms. "You look.... incredible."

Eddie smiled at the compliment, slowly becoming turned on by the way his girlfriend was rubbing his arms and chest and that hungry look in her eyes.

"As do you," he whispered, slowly pressing his lips against hers. She went to deepen the kiss, but Eddie pulled away with a smirk.

"We have reservations, my dear," he gave her one last kiss before he walked over to the door. She mindlessly followed in a trance as she watched the jacket swish with each movement.

Eddie carried most of the conversation as she stared at him. Her straw in her mouth as she eyed her boyfriend like candy.

"What's on your mind?" He asked, leaning forward as he pulled the straw out of her mouth.

"I could just stare at you forever," she admitted.

Eddie blushed, his heart skipping a few beats. He nervously licked his lips, coughing as he tried to remain unbothered.

"Creep," he teased, hoping it would lessen the amount of tension between them. She giggled, but her eyes didn't wander.

"By the way," she said, clearing her throat, "you are much sexier in that jacket than Spike ever was."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #ashwhowrites #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson angst x reader

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zeke-fanfucs · 5 days ago

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Changed the school name cause i totally didn’t forget what i named it.

Edit: learn my mamá threw my dirty notebook with my notes on each AU. So I’m going to cry now cause fuck. I have to rewrite and read all my fanfic to get information back.

---

Three Months at Claymoore High

It had been three months since Karmor started his first year at Claymoore High, the school at the end of the district—literally and figuratively. The building looked like it had been forgotten on purpose, its brick walls crumbling under the weight of graffiti, time, and neglect. Officially, it was an alternative school for "difficult youth." Unofficially, it was a last stop for kids the system didn't know what to do with.

And yet, for Karmor, Claymoore had become something close to routine.

Every morning, just as the rising sun painted the cracked sidewalk with pale light, he’d wait at the corner by the rusted chain-link fence for Hipswitch. Hipswitch always showed up five minutes late, with a peanut butter sandwich wrapped in a napkin and a loud “Mornin’, K!” in his slow, Southern drawl.

They’d share whatever food they had—sometimes a sandwich, sometimes leftovers, once an actual slice of cake stolen from a retirement party Hipswitch had wandered into—and make their way to the bus stop. The ride to school was long and rough, the shocks on the old yellow bus barely functional. Karmor used the time to nap, head leaning lightly against the window, while Hipswitch kept watch, earbuds in but eyes always scanning, like he was expecting trouble to find them.

And trouble usually did.

The routine at Claymoore was simple: attend first period, and then the chaos started. Some days it was Albus who kicked things off, usually by punching someone for talking about his mother or spilling something on Faith. He'd swagger back into class like nothing happened, bruised knuckles and all, smelling like cheap booze he'd hidden in a water bottle.

Other days it was Hipswitch, when his sense of justice overrode his common sense—like when he body-slammed a senior who tried to steal Kerano’s lunch money, then coolly turned himself in to the principal's office.

Then there were the twins. Mahatma and Attila.

Last week they nearly burned down the science lab. Mahatma had tried to demonstrate a “controlled” chemical reaction for a project that wasn’t even assigned, and Attila—bored and twitchy—had added a little too much fuel just to see what would happen. They both watched with fascination as the flame burst up the wall, like it was a nature documentary and not a health hazard. No one got hurt, except the teacher’s eyebrows.

But the worst—or maybe the best, depending on how you looked at it—was two weeks ago, when the entire group decided to skip an exam in favor of an “educational” movie day. One turned into three. They all passed out in the cinema’s back row during a black-and-white horror flick marathon, only to wake up hours later surrounded by empty popcorn buckets and very bad decisions. Naturally, the exam had been that morning. The next day, Karmor, silent but determined, slipped into the locked teacher’s lounge and “found” the stack of ungraded exams. Somehow, the group all passed—barely. No one asked how. No one needed to.

Claymoore wasn’t a school that played by the rules. And neither did they. Despite all the messes, fights, suspensions, and “concerned calls” home that went to nowhere, something solid was building between them—something no report card could measure. They weren’t just surviving Claymoore. They were making it theirs.

And for Karmor, the new kid from nowhere, mute and strange and still piecing together what it meant to belong, this ragtag crew of broken edges had become something like family.

Not perfect. Not safe.

But real.

---

It had started pouring sometime after second period—thick, relentless sheets of rain that turned the cracked sidewalks outside into shallow rivers. The kind of rain that made even the teachers give up pretending to care.

By noon, most of the school had given in to the weather. Classrooms turned into dim sanctuaries of nap-heavy silence, where overhead lights flickered uselessly against the gray sky pressing at the windows. Nobody was learning anything. No one was even pretending.

Inside Room 204, the gang’s unofficial homeroom and usual hideout, the atmosphere was lazy, soaked in the sound of rain tapping against the windows and the occasional thud of wet sneakers as someone passed in the hall.

Hipswitch and Albus had claimed a battered desk in the back, an old deck of cards between them. It had started as a friendly game of Spades, but somewhere around the second round, it became obvious that Albus was cheating. Poorly.

"That’s your third king of hearts, man," Hipswitch said, eyeing him with a raised brow, vitiligo patches stretching across his cheek as he squinted.

Albus shrugged, grinning like a child caught red-handed but unbothered. “You ever think maybe the deck’s just... blessed in my favor?”

“You’re about to be blessed with a black eye,” Hipswitch muttered, chuckling anyway as he flicked a card at Albus’s forehead.

Albus ducked, laughing, long legs kicked out as he leaned back in his chair. He looked half-asleep already, the edge of a bruised eye from last week’s fight with a junior still faintly purple.

In the corner, sprawled on the floor with his back against a locker, Karmor flipped through a dog-eared paperback he’d pulled out of an old donation box in the library. The cover was faded, some forgotten sci-fi novel with a spaceship and screaming faces. He wasn’t even sure what the plot was yet—something about time travel and doomed planets—but he liked the way the words felt in his head. Solid. Predictable.

Next to him, perched awkwardly on a desk, Mahatma was hunched over a thick, slightly damp medical textbook, whispering to himself as he traced underlined diagrams of lungs and liver structures with one finger.

“Did you know blunt force trauma to the upper abdomen can rupture the spleen without—” he began, eyes wide behind foggy glasses.

Karmor glanced up from his book, barely interested, but nodded like he was listening.

“—any outward bruising,” Mahatma finished, sounding almost disappointed that no one seemed horrified.

“Fascinating,” Karmor mouthed silently, eyes back on the novel.

The book had definitely been stolen—that much was clear.

It still had the barcode sticker on the spine, and the corner had been half torn off, probably when Attila had ripped it off the shelf. Mahatma claimed they “borrowed it,” but Karmor had seen the way Attila had stared down the poor librarian like he was daring her to say something. She hadn’t. No one did, not when Attila looked like he might smile or bite your throat out in the same breath.

Speaking of...

Attila sat in the windowsill, legs drawn up to his chest, eyes locked on the rainy schoolyard like he was waiting for the storm to get bored and attack someone. His fingers twitched restlessly every so often, like he was itching to burn something just to watch it go up.

But right now, the rain had sedated even him.

“Boring day,” he said flatly, his voice low, like a warning or a threat—no one could ever tell with Attila.

Hipswitch glanced over. “Could be worse. You could be losing to Albus the Cheater over here.”

“Hey!” Albus barked, but his grin never wavered.

Karmor turned a page and, for a rare second, smiled to himself. Not wide, not enough for anyone to notice—but it was there.

They were broken kids in a broken school, but somehow, in that quiet, rain-soaked afternoon, things felt almost okay. Like maybe they weren’t just surviving. Maybe they were—however weird it sounded—together.

Even if the next fight was probably just a fire drill away.

———

The peace didn’t last. It never did when Albus got that grin.

It crept across his face like a sunrise over a battlefield—too wide, too sure, and completely reckless. The kind of grin that made people move their wallets to the front pocket and double-check their exit strategy.

Karmor noticed it first.

He looked up from his book, instantly suspicious. He knew that look. That was the ‘I just had the worst idea in the world and I’m gonna do it anyway’ face. He slowly marked his page with a wrapper and braced himself.

“I’ve got a plan,” Albus announced, sitting up like he was about to deliver a TED Talk. “Let’s steal a car.”

A beat of silence. The rain tapped calmly at the windows.

“What.” said Hipswitch, flat as cement.

Albus leaned forward, eyes glittering. “Just for a few hours. We drive outta this dump and hit that burger spot in Rowley—the one with the neon cow on the roof. I know where the keys are.”

Karmor let out a groan, pressing both hands over his face. He didn’t need a voice to express how unbelievably dumb that was. His whole body radiated this is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard and I hang out with Attila.

“Albus,” Mahatma started gently, already slipping into his concerned doctor voice, “maybe we should think this through—”

Albus raised a hand like he was defending a thesis. “Before you say no—hear me out. My deadbeat father—y’know, the charming senator who forgets I exist?—he just bought a brand-new, shiny-ass, cherry-red Mercedes. Sport edition. Real sleek. He parked it out back of his other house, the one with no cameras, ‘cause the main driveway’s for the press. That car is begging to be joyridden.”

Attila snorted. “That car’s begging to get you locked up for grand theft, dumbass.”

Hipswitch gave him a stare so deadpan it could've been carved into stone. “So your bright idea… is to steal your rich daddy’s expensive car, drive it across district lines to get a burger, and then what? Bring it back with fries in the cupholder like he ain’t gonna notice?”

Albus grinned harder. “Exactly!”

Mahatma visibly short-circuited. “That’s... that’s not how any of this works!”

Albus threw an arm around Hipswitch like they were already partners in crime. “C’mon, Switch. Don’t you wanna eat something that wasn’t cooked by a vending machine and shame?”

Karmor shook his head slowly. He mouthed ‘This is prison time.’

Even Attila looked like he was second-guessing his life choices, which was saying something.

They all stared at Albus like he’d just said, “Let’s go to prison, but make it fashion.”

Albus sat back, arms behind his head, completely unbothered. “Fine, fine. I’ll go alone. Enjoy your government-mandated cardboard pizza. Me? I’ll be out there living.”

Hipswitch sighed and leaned his head back against the wall. “If you crash that car, I’m not testifying. I’ll straight-up pretend I don’t know you.”

Albus winked. “That’s cool. I’ll haunt you anyway.”

Despite himself, Karmor gave a small, silent laugh.

Rain kept falling outside, the world soaked in gray. Inside, Albus’s wild idea hung in the air like a dare none of them wanted to admit they were tempted by.

———

The rain had let up by nightfall, but the clouds hung low, smothering the stars and leaving the world in a sleepy, gray hush. That made sneaking onto the York estate easier. Not that they were exactly subtle.

They slipped through a break in the back fence, scurrying through hedges that hadn’t been trimmed since before Albus learned how to spell “resentment.” The place was huge—grand stone arches, statues of lions, and balconies that looked down on everything like they judged anyone not born in a tie.

But Albus York didn’t live here.

This was his father’s world. The senator. The man who told Albus to “stay out of the papers” and then shoved him into a crummy one-bedroom apartment like he was tossing out the trash. The man who bought cars that cost more than most families made in a year—and left them sitting unattended behind his third home.

“You sure the keys ain’t inside?” Hipswitch whispered, eyes constantly flicking across the shadows.

Albus smirked. “Even if they are, this is way more fun.”

The car gleamed like blood under moonlight. A brand-new, cherry-red Mercedes, low to the ground and purring with potential. Karmor crouched by the driver’s door, sleeves rolled up, his expression oddly calm.

He had watched five different videos earlier that day—each one ending with “this is for educational purposes only.”

Now it was real. His hands moved with a quiet precision, a few wires stripped and twisted, a screwdriver borrowed from the school’s shop room jammed just right into the ignition.

Mahatma, standing awkwardly to the side, looked like he was watching the beginning of a nightmare. “Do you guys have any idea how many felonies this is? Like, this isn’t even juvenile hall. This is real prison. Big men with face tattoos prison.”

“Shhh,” Attila yawned, stretching lazily like a lion waking up from a nap. “Let the idiot work.”

Karmor let out a soft chuckle as the engine purred to life. It wasn’t loud—it was clean, like the hum of danger about to make a very big mistake. He pushed open the door and leaned out.

“Get in.”

That was all he had to mouth. The words barely left his lips before the others moved.

Hipswitch vaulted into the passenger seat, already clicking his seatbelt with an anxious frown. “We are absolutely going to hell for this.”

Albus practically dove into the back seat, laughing like a man who had just won the lottery and set it on fire for fun. “Roof, Karmor! Hit the damn roof!”

Karmor flicked the switch and the hardtop began to fold back, hissing into itself until the cool night air poured in over their heads. Attila dropped into the seat next to Albus with his usual casual menace, slouched and unimpressed but clearly riding the same high.

Then Karmor shifted into gear and stepped on the gas.

They flew down the gravel path, the tires spinning once before finding their grip, and then the whole car surged forward like a shot out of a cannon. The gates loomed up fast—but Albus had “borrowed” the code. The iron bars slid open just in time for them to blast through into the open back streets.

The night swallowed them up.

Karmor’s hair whipped in the wind, his eyes focused but bright with the thrill. The engine roared as they hit the highway entrance, and the world opened wide in front of them.

The highway stretched like a ribbon of freedom under the stars, and the Mercedes devoured it in seconds. Streetlights became blurs. Signs flew by unread.

Albus whooped in the backseat, arms up like he was riding a rollercoaster. “Hell yeah! We’re gods tonight, boys!”

Hipswitch held onto the dashboard like a seatbelt was a suggestion. “I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die and you’re gonna bury me in a school cafeteria tray.”

“Relax,” Attila said with a half-smile, “At least you'll die free.”

Even Mahatma, despite clinging to the seat in wide-eyed horror, was starting to laugh—nervously, breathlessly, but it was laughter all the same.

And Karmorgrinned like a devil behind the wheel.

For the first time in a long time, none of them were just surviving.

They were alive.

The night screamed by, all silver lines and rushing wind, as Karmor gripped the wheel like it was second nature—like this wasn’t his first time breaking every traffic law on the books. His eyes burned with something wild and alive, and his grin—so rare, so full—spread across his face like moonlight cracking open a storm.

He handled the Mercedes like it was an extension of himself, weaving through sleepy roads with surgical precision. The world around them became nothing but light trails and wind-whipped freedom.

Albus was practically vibrating in the backseat, laughter pouring out of him as Karmor took a sharp turn and the tires sang against the asphalt. “Who is this guy?! Karmor, you’ve been holding out on us, Whelp!”

Hipswitch shouted over the wind, grinning now despite himself, “he drives like he’s in Fast and Goddamn Furious Twelve!”

Karmor threw a glance in the mirror, eyes shining, and flicked on the indicator—not to follow the law, but as a dramatic flourish as he swerved off the main road and into the wide-open space of an empty strip mall parking lot.

It was huge—deserted, wet from the earlier rain, glistening under the dull buzz of flickering lights. A perfect arena.

Karmor slammed the brakes and yanked the wheel.

The car spun—once, twice, three perfect circles. Tires shrieked. The engine howled. The world turned into a blur of lights and momentum.

Albus screamed in pure joy, slamming his palms on the seat in front of him, which was Hipswitch’s, like a drum. “YEAH! Do it again!”

Mahatma, who’d been clinging to the seatbelt for dear life, let out a stunned laugh that surprised even himself. He stuck his head out the window, the night air hitting his face, loud and alive. “We’re going to get arrested and I don’t even care anymore!”

“Now you’re getting it, doc!” Albus yelled, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him with chaotic affection.

Hipswitch, still in the passenger seat, laughed hard enough that his eyes watered. He looked over at Karmor, that grin still on the driver’s face, hair wild in the wind.

“I didn’t know you had this in you, partner,” he said, voice catching on the adrenaline. “You ever not surprise me?”

Karmor just revved the engine in reply, that gleam in his eye louder than any words. He wasn’t just driving. He was flying.

Another donut. Another shriek of tires and gasps of laughter.

They weren’t delinquents in that moment. They weren’t poor kids, broken kids, discarded by the system and told to behave.

They were kings of the concrete. Outlaws in the best kind of way.

Even Attila, who hadn’t said much, smirked in his seat, eyes half-lidded with contentment. “Not bad, mute,” he murmured. “Not bad at all.”

The car finally slid to a stop in the middle of the lot, smoke rising in lazy spirals from the wheels. Everyone was breathless. Laughing. Buzzing like electricity in the dark.

Karmor leaned back in the driver’s seat, one hand still on the wheel, and looked up at the stars peeking through the clouds.

For the first time since he landed in this world, he didn’t feel lost.

He felt seen.

Finally—after the whirlwind of stolen rubber and reckless joyrides—they made it to the burger joint.

It stood like a neon beacon on the edge of nowhere, the glowing blue cow on the roof flickering like it was giving up on life, but still clinging on. The parking lot was half empty, the streets dead quiet, and the air smelled like oil, meat, and freedom.

They pulled up, the engine still humming like it didn’t want the night to end.

Inside, the place was everything Albus promised and more: cracked leather booths, jukebox in the corner playing something old and gritty, and a menu that looked laminated in regret. But the food? The food hit like a religious experience.

Karmor sat with a double bacon burger in both hands, hunched over it like someone might try to steal it from him—and to be fair, someone was.

“Oi!” he mouthed furiously, slapping Albus’s hand away as the older boy made a grab for his fries.

Albus cackled, popping a stolen fry in his mouth anyway. “Hey, man! I brought us here, I deserve at least a tax!”

Karmor squinted, shook his head, then dramatically shoved a fistful of fries into his mouth, guarding the rest with his elbow like a raccoon protecting treasure. Albus just laughed louder.

“Brotherly love,” Hipswitch muttered, half amused, half exasperated. “Y’all ain’t even related and you still act like messy siblings.”

Albus leaned back, arms behind his head, greasy wrapper crinkling under him. “Family’s what you make it, bro.”

Across the table, Hipswitch slid his strawberry milkshake across the table between him and Karmor—two straws sticking out.

“Try this,” he said, casual. “It’s that good kind of fake strawberry.”

Karmor looked at it. Then at him.

Then at the two straws.

A pause.

Then he pointed—accusingly—at the extra straw, raising a brow.

Hipswitch laughed. “You think I’d make you share a straw with me? You’d turn redder than a beet.”

Karmor did turn red. Not pink. Not blush. Red. He took the straw and sipped quickly to hide his face, eyes on the table.

Hipswitch grinned to himself, proud of the chaos.

Meanwhile, Mahatma was halfway through a plate of cheesy fries, hands orange from the fake cheese dust. He looked more relaxed than he had in weeks, legs stretched under the booth, foot brushing against Attila’s like an anchor. Every so often he’d nudge a fry toward his twin, who ignored them completely.

Attila was dismantling a corn dog like it had insulted his mother. Bite after bite, casual and slow, but intensely focused. His eyes flicked up once, locking with Mahatma’s, then rolled when his brother nudged him again with another fry.

“Fine,” he muttered, taking one just to shut him up. Mahatma beamed like he won a war.

They sat like that for a long while—just eating, breathing, being.

No teachers. No cops. No parents who didn’t care.

Just a stolen night that belonged only to them.

Outside, the Mercedes cooled under the dim lights. Inside, the group laughed, argued over dipping sauces, swapped bites with fake threats and real smiles.

For once, it didn’t matter where they came from.

Just that they made it here, together.

The drive back was filled with sleepy satisfaction. Bellies full, the wind still whipping their hair, laughter echoing in the car like the remnants of a dream they didn’t want to end.

That is, until Hipswitch leaned his head back and said, smug as ever:

“No way we’re making it back without a single cop stopping us. Man, this might be the first time we didn’t get—”

FLASHING BLUE AND RED LIGHTS.

The night lit up behind them in a violent strobe of sirens and fate.

“YOU JINXED US!” Mahatma yelled, nearly choking on a cheese fry he’d been savoring.

“Aw, come on!” Albus groaned, twisting in his seat just in time to see a cruiser bearing down on them from behind. “That’s it, we’re dead. We’re not even gonna get juvie—we’re going straight to big-boy prison!”

“I’m seventeen!” Mahatma shrieked, holding onto the door like that would help.

Karmor, hands tight on the wheel, didn’t panic. Maybe a little.

He hit the gas.

The Mercedes screamed forward, tires gripping the highway like claws.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!” Hipswitch shouted from the passenger seat.

Karmor didn’t answer. Just narrowed his eyes, floored it, and became the car.

Albus started laughing—again.

But things got worse. Ahead, another cruiser pulled sideways across the highway, lights blazing, an officer already tossing down tire spikes.

“Shitshitshit!” Hipswitch barked. “They're trying to box us in!”

Karmor’s mind raced—then instincts kicked in.

He yanked the wheel hard, swerved around the spikes—tires just missing them—and took the next exit at nearly 100. The Mercedes bumped hard onto the offramp, shocks screaming in protest as they cut through the dark.

No lights.

No signs.

Just black roads and abandoned industrial zones.

Karmor drove like the shadows themselves were guiding him—twisting through alleys, coasting between half-demolished buildings and rusted fences until they skidded to a stop behind a warehouse with half the roof caved in and vines crawling up the sides like spider legs.

They cut the lights.

The sirens passed a minute later.

Then the helicopter came.

They ducked inside the car as the chopper roared overhead, a searchlight sweeping across the concrete lot like the eye of God.

No one dared breathe.

Even Attila held still, eyes narrowed, watching the beam like he could bite it if it got too close.

They waited

Ten minutes. Then twenty. Then an hour. Time blurred. The fries went cold. Mahatma chewed his sleeve. Albus fell asleep for a few minutes and snored like a dog.

Eventually, the sky went quiet again.

Karmor turned the key. The engine rumbled like a held-in laugh.

They took the long way back—side roads, abandoned roads, even a stretch of unpaved dirt.

When they finally rolled the Mercedes back through the gap in the York estate fence, nerves raw and hands twitching with leftover adrenaline, dawn was bleeding into the sky.

Albus jumped out first, still barefoot from throwing his shoes at the cop cars during the chase. “WOOOO! We’re legends! Did y’all see that drift? Karmor’s got video game hands, I swear!”

Mahatma climbed out after him, half-dead, hair a mess. “We’re going to jail. We are going to real adult jail.”

Hipswitch just stumbled out, groaning as he stretched. “Next time I jinx us, someone slap me.”

They ran across the yard like kids sneaking back into summer camp—laughing, shouting, cursing—but alive. High on the impossible fact that they got away with it.

And Karmor?

He paused at the driver’s side door, looking back at the car.

The stolen Mercedes. The chaos. The friends. The night.

He smiled.

Then ran after the others, heart pounding, laughter spilling silently from his chest.

For a moment, they were untouchable.

…..

Well until..

The next day.

They were all wrecked. Bags under their eyes, uniforms wrinkled, and not a single one of them had the energy to pretend they weren’t hiding from the cops just twelve hours ago.

But they made it.

Somehow.

No one got caught. No one got arrested. No one had told on them. The stolen car was safely back in its precious garage, and the city was none the wiser.

Now they just had to survive homeroom.

They lounged under the stairwell behind the gym—an unofficial safe zone the teachers never bothered to patrol. Hipswitch was half-asleep against the wall, Mahatma was reading something upside-down and clearly not noticing, Attila was sharpening a pencil with a scalpel for no reason at all, and Karmor was curled up in his hoodie like a sentient laundry pile.

Then Albus pulled a little pink bottle out of his bag.

“What’s that?” Hipswitch grumbled, squinting at it.

Albus read the label aloud, squinting. “Strawberry... intimate massage gel.”

Attila, looking up with a bored expression, smirked. “I dare you to drink it.”

“Bet,” Albus said immediately, unscrewing the cap.

Mahatma finally looked up in horror. “Albus, that’s lube!”

Karmor lunged across the space and smacked the bottle out of his hand like a cat defending its honor.

It bounced off the wall and landed in the trash can with a soft thunk.

Albus blinked. “...I was curious! It smelled like a Slurpee!”

“YOU CAN’T DRINK THAT!” Mahatma cried

Hipswitch just put his hand over his face and sighed. “We survived a police chase, grand theft auto, and hiding from a helicopter... and this is how we go out. Death by edible lube.”

Karmor flopped back down into his hoodie with a silent wheeze of laughter.

Albus shrugged, completely unbothered. “Y’all are no fun.”

Attila rolled his eyes. “You didn’t even flinch. You are truly a different breed of idiot.”

“And proud,” Albus grinned.

They all sat there in stunned silence for a moment. Then one by one, they cracked. Laughter bubbled up—tired, broken, giddy laughter that left their sides aching. It echoed through the stairwell like a battle cry of dumbass victory.

They weren’t normal

They weren’t safe.

But they had each other.

And they were just getting started.

Moral of the story: Don’t fucking listen to Albus. And keep flavor lube away from him.

#goodboyaudios #SCHOOL AU #kinda want try flavored lube now #i forgot everything #bastard vs zombies #goodboyaudios albus #goodboyaudios karmor #goodboyaudios hipswitch #goodboyaudios manhatma #goodboyaudios Attila #gba bvz

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orikiys · 2 years ago

Text

✿ ✿ 〞wish you back

✰ pairings: ex!han x fem!reader

✰ genre: romance + angst with comfort ending

✰ warning: mentions of insecurities, deep talks, indirect mentions of miscommunications and getting back together

✰ request: If you’re taking requests or would like some ideas for your future writings then could I suggest/request an angsty fight but with a comfort ending with prompts 1, 10 and 12 with skz Han or it could even be an ot8 whichever is comfortable for you :)

✰ note: hi hi love! i hope you like it >< i made it exes to lovers and it hope it suits to what you requested for! thanks to @planetkiimchi for beta reading this and helping me with it 🤍

✰ word count: 2k + words

meeting him was like listening to a song for the first time and knowing it would be your favourite. meeting him was like rewatching every movie you ever loved with your favourite flavour of popcorn. meeting him was truly beautiful.

then, suddenly, you didn’t like that song anymore. you hated those movies as well. and you didn’t even bother touching that last packet of popcorn kept in the cabinet of your kitchen. it had been a month precisely since you and jisung parted ways.

a month of half-heartedly listening to your best friend’s ‘not-getting-back-to-your-ex’ rules. you don’t even remember the last time you saw him. but all you could do was think of him. was he eating well? was his hair as long as before? or has he trimmed them? it was foolish, you knew that very well. but the way your heart belonged to him, you couldn’t help it.

your mind keeps replaying the evening of your breakup. that very evening, when the two of you would be completing two whole years as a couple. all of it—now shattered. it doesn’t matter what you do, or what he does, the deed is done. there’s no going back now. or is there?

you know you shouldn’t be doing this and instead sending someone else. despite this, you find yourself driving to his home. after his last text, which told you to go pick up your stuff. you nearly felt your heart burst out of your chest the moment you saw his name pop in your notifications, but all of it faded when you saw his text. you know it meant nothing, but you felt yourself tear apart when the thought that he's trying to erase you crosses your mind. that’s what the voices in your head said. he’s trying to remove you from his life. and you know it shouldn’t hurt that much– but it does.

you hated whenever he overworked himself. you hated the way he would always come home exhausted but would still manage to muster up a smile you knew was fake. and when the limit runs, it’s the two of you against each other– screaming at each other’s throats. the eyes that used to be filled with love and warmth, were replaced with tiredness and anger.

maybe it was just in the heat of the moment, but the words can’t be unsaid. the apartment that used to be filled with memories in each corner, just rests there in dust and dirt.

you lift your hand to knock on the door and not even a second later, the door opens wide allowing you to see the apartment once again, and jisung as well.

he looks almost the same, except for his hair that he has curled slightly. if it would’ve been a stranger, they wouldn’t have been able to pick on any difference. but knowing him for years, you know everything from the beat of his heart to the dip in his voice when he’s about to break down– you have lived it all as well.

“hi,” he manages to croak out when you enter the apartment. you let out a silent nod, but prevent yourself from getting into a long conversation with him. your friend advised you not to if you didn’t want to end up getting hurt.

“how have you been?” he asks, his voice no louder than a mutter.

“how do you expect me to be?” you chuckle dryly, rubbing salt onto his wounds without even sparing him a glance. you look around, eyes stopping on the fridge that has various fridge magnets which you stuck on. maybe it was just a you thing, but it marked as the evidence of your happy relationship. there’s a small magnet with a polaroid of you two sitting on a couch with a cake in your hand.

it almost makes you laugh, how quickly the memory rushes into your head. it was your birthday and jisung surprised you with homemade meals and handmade gifts. it was a simple meal with just the two of you, yet his sincerity never failed to amaze you.

“i’m trying to talk to you nicely,” he hisses back, frustration creeping its way into his tone. it makes you gulp. you pause to stare at him, for the second time of the day before sighing.

“where’s my stuff?” you whisper, not breaking eye contact, which makes him stare back at you just as fiercely.

there’s something in his expression that makes you want to run straight into his arms and embrace him, kiss him and tell him you love him. but you can’t. he was the main character in the movie called “you”, but now he seemed to play more of a side role. it seems discarded yet you will remember it forever.

he takes a long minute to reply and points to the bedroom, “it’s under the bed, in a box.”

you nod and make your way in the bedroom. the sight of the room itself makes your heart heavy. you look around, and where there used to be a brown heart couch, it’s now empty. the room takes you back to the days when the two of you first moved in. the two of you were so excited to bring in the new furniture and rearrange it according to your preference. it almost felt surreal at first. you still remember spending three weeks just to arrange the furniture. it was tiring, but you didn’t know that it was even more tiring to look at this now-almost-empty bedroom.

you crouch down and pull out a wooden box. it’s a bit dusty, so you carry it and keep it on the mattress. you blow away the dust as much as possible and open the box. it’s filled with photos, letters, gifts varying from sizes to colours and occasions. it’s a wonder how he kept all your stuff neatly arranged. even if there’s a few things missing, you don’t mention it when you return back to the living room.

he shoots up from his seat upon seeing you, and there’s a determined look on his face which you don’t quite like.

“can i know one thing before you go?” there’s fresh pain in his eyes which he no longer attempts to hide from you. when you take a look at him, you see the eyebags, the tiredness seeps through his eyes and it’s painful to see him that way.

when you don’t reply, he takes that as his cue to step towards you and hold both of your hands in his, the familiar warmth immediately soothing you and making you breathe in relief.

“do you still love me?” it’s just a question, you tell yourself. it’s just a normal question, just say no and you’ll be fine. instead, you stare down at your intertwined hands and slowly rub your thumb against his.

“what if i say yes? how would it change anything? remember, you left me first,” you look back at him with tears brimming your eyes. there’s a softness in his expression that almost makes you cry but you manage to hold it in.

“because you told me to! you told me how annoying i was and how i wasn’t giving you time. and i thought about it, i really did and i realised it was better for us this way.”

“you’ll decide that on your own? you could’ve talked to me once ji! i would have stopped you and told you just how much you mean to me!” you say while jabbing a finger at his chest in fury.

“how does that change it? you had that thought across your head. how could you even think of us separating? we were happy, weren’t we? and then suddenly you weren’t there when i returned. i didn’t call you because i thought… i thought that maybe you didn’t want me anymore,” he chuckles bitterly and runs a hand through his unruly hair, impatiently waiting for a response.

“i… you’re the only one i want, ji. there’s not been a single day where i didn’t think of you. if you would’ve called me even in the middle of the night, i’d run back to you without hesitation,” there’s raw pain reflecting in his eyes that flick to your continuously.

“then… why?” you squeeze your eyes shut at his question. was it the way he was too blunt with it? or was it the way you knew that the truth would hurt?

“it’s easy for you to ask that because you’re not the one constantly thinking about whether you’re being controlling or not. you’re not the one who has to constantly keep yourself in check, wondering whether or not you’re overthinking! do you know how hard it was for me to not ask you anything every hour just because it will make you look pushy? i didn’t want to be that kind of girlfriend that bugs you, or the one that has to call you a hundred times a day to remind you that i’ll be waiting! it’s a mess, jisung. i-i’m a mess.”

“do you trust me?” he asks, his eyes shining with determination with this new shift in him.

“no– don’t do this to me,” you shake your head and try to slip your hand out of his grasp, but he stays still.

“please don’t try to ignore me, my love. please don’t go… why do you keep shaking my whole world and then leaving like nothing ever happened? why? why are you so desperately trying to run away from me? did you forget that we promised to help each other with our problems? or do those promises mean nothing?”

“we broke up, jisung! we are not together anymore. there’s no us, it’s just you and i,” you look away to avoid his burning gaze.

“look at me, babe,” he whispers, his words are careful to not try and trigger you any more.

and when you do, he looks down at you with a soft gaze, “i want you to know one thing. there’s nothing in this world that will make me love you less. it’s okay to worry. you worry for the one you love and it’s normal. there is no such thing as worrying too much, okay? don’t you ever think that you are less or that you are more. you are just the perfect amount, like the sugar i need in my coffee,” he jokes a bit and it does indeed manage to make you chuckle through tears.

“there was a day where i almost knocked at your front door, but then i saw how happy you looked. and i feel like i was trying to snatch away your happiness, but then you told me how you felt and honestly, it just feels like we’re two dumb people who are scared to communicate. a talk was all we needed.”

“i’m sorry for hurting you that night, and for not even bothering to tell you that i’m was leaving.” after every word, he smiles wider, and it’s as if you’re seconds away from mending his broken heart along with yours. “is it too late to stop the shifting of the furniture?” he laughs, before shaking his head, and pulling you to his chest. his arms wrap around you and he embraces you tightly, cherishing every bit of you for as long as he can.

“don’t ever scare me like that again,” he mumbles and presses a kiss to the side of your head.

“i suppose i should call the guy before it gets too late,” he huffs in annoyance and you smile at his words.

“you should! it’s your fault you’re trying to give away our stuff,” you mock, with a playful smile dancing on your lips.

“putting the blame on me now?” he pouts before stealing a kiss from you and his fingers are already vigorously typing digits on his phone.

there’s something about this house that will never change; you and him. perhaps those magnets too.

PERM TAGLIST: @taeriffic 🥽 @hello-2-u-from-me 🥽 @ilychee08 🥽 @sleepyleeji 🥽 @spacegirlstuff

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ev3rgreenxtrees · 1 year ago

Text

Violent Love

-M.S

Synopsis: Matt and you have been friends since kindergarten, but when his youtube career flew off, so did he. He moved to LA with his brothers, and when he came back to Boston for a visit, it doesn’t end in the most pleasant way.

Warnings: Foul language, Stalking, Murder, Phsyco!Matt

This story is NOT for the faint of heart. Its also really fucking long. like REALLY long.

“Teddy bear, you were my teddy bear

You were comforting and quiet

How did love become so violent?

Oh, teddy bear, you were my teddy bear

Everything was so sweet until you tried to kill me”

As you laid down alone in bed, you heard a faint knock on your door. You automatically assumed it was Matt, your childhood best friend.

Best friend. He was like a very overprotective big brother to you. When you had issues with people, Matt had no issue starting a physical fight. Unlike how most people would just say, ‘talk it out’ or even have a talk with them, Matt would immediately start a fight. He’d beat the shit out of them, until they were sobbing and rapidly apologizing.

You hated that Matt did this, but it also gave you a sense of security. Protection.

He always held you close to him as you two cuddled in his bed, watching whatever movie you wanted, while scarfing down popcorn. Matt was everything you needed.

He was there for you, and he always had been. Until he wasn’t.

He had a youtube career, with his brothers, Chris and Nick. You loved them, too, but not nearly as much as Matt. You were more than overjoyed when the boys’ youtube career took off, but the three decided it would be best to move to L.A. Simply because there were ‘more influencers’ there, making ‘easier content’.

Matt tried to get you to come with, even offering you a room in their house, but you declined. You were of course sad to see him leave, but you always felt you were holding him back. You would miss him, but you felt it was best. Besides, he said he’d take trips back to Boston often to visit you.

The longer you two stayed apart, the more you slightly drifted apart. You still talked, but you didn’t feel as close as you used to. So, when Matt told you he’d be coming back to Boston, you immediately invited him over.

And now he was here.

You threw yourself out of bed, quickly making your way to the door of your empty home, opening it quickly to see Matt standing there alone, a bouquet of roses in hand.

“Matt! I missed you so much! I haven’t seen you in forever!” You gasped, throwing yourself into his arms as you wrapped your legs around his waist, forcing him to catch you and hold you.

“I missed you too, Y/N,” He shook his head and chuckled, before slowly setting you down. “Here.. I got you these,” He says slowly, handing you the roses that were held tightly in his hand.

“Awe, Matt, you didn’t have to,” You gushed.

“I know, I just missed you so much.” He shook his head, and you backed up, allowing him a clear entrance to your house. You nodded, and he let himself inside.

“Nice house,” He smiled, as you followed him inside.

“Yeah.. It’s okay. Kinda out in the middle of nowhere though.” You shrugged, and he nodded. “Come to my room! We can watch a movie and talk. Like old times!” You suggested, and he nodded.

He followed you closely as you zoomed down the halls, eventually making it to your room.

“Sorry its messy,” You apologized, and Matt scoffed.

“Y/N, we literally made messes in each others rooms when we were younger what are you on?” He gently shoved you out of the way, throwing himself on your bed.

“C’mere,” He waved you over, holding his arms open for you, and you quickly threw yourself into him.

Just like old times.

You wrapped tightly around him, as his arms snaked around your waist.

“If you squeeze any tighter my eyes might pop out of my head,” Matt laughed, and you loosened your grip.

“Sorry, I just missed you soooo much!” You giggled, and Matt placed a kiss on your forehead, causing you to shoot up.

“I totally forgot to tell you, but I got a boyfriend!” You smiled brightly.

You got a boyfriend about two months after Matt left. Your boyfriend cared for you, of course, but not as much as Matt did.

Matt’s eyebrows furrowed, and he slowly sat up, and you tilted your head.

“I.. Um… I gotta go- I told my mom i’d be home for dinner,” He abruptly stood up, and you felt slightly hurt. Why was he being so… rude?

Yeah, sure, Matt was usually like this, but not to you or your family. Ever. He loves all of his family very dearly, and wouldn’t do anything they don’t want. Or deserve. Or need.

“Oh.. Okay. Text me later tonight, so we can make plans. Okay?” You asked, and Matt just nodded, before slipping into the hallway.

Later comes, and yet no text from Matt. You decided it was best to call him, and he quickly answered, but before you could speak, he did.

“What’s your boyfriends name?” He asked through the phone speaker.

“Um.. Kyle..? Kyle Spencer, why?” You reply, and you hear him sigh.

“I know him, Y/N. He was on my highschool hockey team. He’s bad news,” Matt was disappointed. You could tell.

“Matt.. You don’t know him like I do.. Trust me on this one. Please?” You pleaded, but Matt just hung up.

He never hangs up on you? Nevertheless when you were in the midst of a conversation. You stared at the phone with his contact showing, confused as you read the big bold letters saying ‘Call Ended.’

You debated on calling him again, and decided too. He was acting weird. You laid silently, awaiting to hear his sweet voice, but to no avail, you hear a loud beep, and his voicemail.

You let out a frustrated groan, before sitting up and calling one of his brothers. Due to alphabetical order, Chris’ contact was the first one you saw. The phone rang, but unlike his brother, Chris answered.

“Hey, Y/N! What’s up?” Chris chimes through the phone, his voice loud and cheerful.

“Hey, Chris! Is Matt around you?” You asked curiously, but the boy hummed.

“Umm, no.. He just left, actually. Sorry. Did you have plans with him?” Chris replied, and you let out an annoyed sigh. Who was Matt so adamant about meeting up with?

“No, not really. I’m just bored, I was gonna ask him to come over but he wont answer his damn phone.” You growl, causing Chris to chuckle.

“Me and Nick can come over if ya want, we don’t have any plans,” Chris offered, and you smiled at the thought of seeing them again.

“Yeah! I’d love that. I’ll send you my address.” You beamed with joy, and Chris hummed again.

“Cya soon!�� He spoke before hanging up.

At least you wouldn’t have to be alone tonight.

Around twenty minutes later, you hear a knock on your door, and since it must be Nick and Chris, you practically throw yourself out of bed.

You rush down the hall, and throw the front door of the house open, and saw two of the same faced people standing aimlessly at your door.

“Y/N!” They both exclaimed, as you quickly pulled both of them into a hug. The three of you greeted each other, before you pulled them into your house, leading them to your living room.

They both plopped down on your couch, and you tossed the remote in-between them.

“Put on something to watch, I’m gonna go make some popcorn,” You told them and they both nodded. You heard them quietly speaking to each other as you rummaged through your cabinets, searching for some popcorn.

You finally found a bag, and tossed it in the microwave. As you waited for the popcorn to be done, you pulled your phone out of your pocket, and saw many messages and missed calls from Matt.

Odd. He just hung up on you a while ago, and left your house on a excuse, but now he wants to talk? You decided to open the messages anyways, if he wanted to be a dick you could just simply leave him on read, and thats exactly what you were going to do.

The messages read, ‘sorry i was really busy with something my dad needed help after dinner, can i come over?’ five minutes after that one, he sent another one. ‘hey? y/n im sorry i didnt mean to leave like that.’ Another five minutes passed. ‘Y/n. i know youre getting my messages please at least reply with a no or smt.’ You sighed, and slid your phone back into your pocket, not bothering to reply.

You carefully grabbed the hot bag of popcorn out of the microwave, and headed back to Nick and Chris. The two had turned on Edward Scissorhands, your favorite movie to watch together. You gasped, as you rushed over to the boys sitting comfortably on your couch.

You threw yourself against Chris, as you had done to Matt earlier, and Chris had quickly pulled you into him and adjusted himself, just as Matt had done hours before.

You couldn’t deny, you terribly missed Matt and did want him to come back, but you didn’t want any trouble. He was already acting off today, maybe he just needed rest. If you ignored him, maybe he’d give up and sleep.

You cuddled into Chris, as all three of you shoved popcorn down your throats and payed close attention to the movie. You missed doing this when you were younger.

You missed Matt.

You pulled your phone out of your pocket again, and saw more messages from Matt.

‘Y/n. Is he over? is that why youre ignoring me? i told you hes an asshole. he doesnt deserve you. hes just a whore that wants in your pants. youre better than that.’ You scoffed as you read the message. Who does Matt think he is? Sure, he may be your best friend, but he’s in no place to call your boyfriend a whore? ‘im sorry i took it too far. can i come over please. ill make it up to you, ill cuddle with you and rub your back, we can go sit on the roof and watch the stars like we used to. please.’

That one hit hard. You missed stargazing with Matt so bad. Neither of you knew anything about stars, but thats what made it ten times better. Using your imagination as you laid your head on his warm chest. One of his arms draped around your waist, his other arm holding your hand. You missed it so much.

‘Im busy’ you typed out, and quickly sent, pushing your phone back into your pocket, not wanting to be tempted by his reply.

You felt bad for being so petty to your best friend, but you didn’t want to ‘interrupt’ him. You felt your phone buzz a few times in your pocket, and you felt Chris’ eyes on you.

“Y/N, just answer your phone.” He chuckled, and you sighed. If only it was that easy.

“Has Matt been acting odd, recently?” You questioned, as you slipped your phone out of your pocket.

“Hm.. No. Why?” Chris replied, and you sighed.

“After I told him I.. have a boyfriend, today, he just got up and left. I called him later, he asked for his name and then he just hung up. He didn’t answer any of my other calls, but now he’s spamming me and apologizing.” You grumbled, as you read the messages.

‘Y/N, ill come over regardless i have ur address’ Now this was just getting weird. He was always sweet and caring, not forceful. ‘Y/N, cmon. im sorry. please let me come over. ill make it up to you.’ You contemplated on how to reply, before you just held your phone up to Chris.

“See? How am I supposed to reply to this?” You ask annoyed, and Chris just snatched the phone from your hands.

You didn’t reach to take it back, you trusted him. He lifted the phone at an odd angle, before snapping a picture.

His fingers tapped gently on the screen, before he handed the phone back to you, giving his full attention to the movie.

As you examine the screen, you saw the picture he took, with you wrapped around Chris, had a caption, ‘She said shes busy.’ Chris could be petty too, sometimes. Not that you minded, of course.

Matt quickly began typing, before his message popped up on the screen, below ‘yours’. ‘What the fuck, chris?? fuck this, fuck you guys.’ You read. You didn’t mind. You felt bad, but he just needed time to debrief, you thought. This will all blow over tomorrow, and you guys can hangout and stargaze, like Matt had offered earlier.

You slid your phone back in your pocket, pulling your attention to the movie, that was now almost over. Nick and Chris now started brainstorming the second movie to watch tonight, and you giggled at the two’s bickering.

You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket, before you pulled it out. You saw your boyfriends contact flash across the screen, and your eyebrows furrowed. You didn’t mind that he was calling you, but he said he wouldn’t bother you much, knowing you’ll have people over. He usually sticks to this.

You slowly stood up, and held up your index finger at the two boys as you accepted the call, indicating you’d be back in a moment. You walked off down the hall, as you pulled your phone up to your ear.

“Hey, baby!” You spoke loudly; making sure he could hear.

No reply. Nothing at all. No background noise, no voices, no reply. Maybe something had gone wrong with one of their phones?

“Baby?” You called again, and this time you heard something. Something unusual. As you turned your volume up, and held the phone speaker closer to your ear, you heard a ragged breathing.

Nothing you’d say was.. bad, more like someone just took a mile run and was trying to catch their breath. But no words.

“Um.. Hello?” You paused, but the breathing didn’t stop. “Kyle? Are you there?” No reply. You now began to worry. Kyle hadn’t done anything like this before. He was a very respectful guy. He knew something like this would scare you and push your boundaries.

You crept back into the living room, with Nick and Chris. You put the phone on speaker, and grabbed your remote, muting the T.V. Both boys understood, as they intently listened to the phone. The breathing only continued for about fifteen more seconds, before you heard the loud sound of the dial tone, making you slightly jump.

“Did you guys hear that?” You ask, and they both nod.

“Yeah, the weird ass fuckin’ breathing? Yeah I heard it. Whoever the fuck breathing that loud might need an inhaler,” Nick joked, but your facial expression stayed the same. Worried. Scared, even.

“Nick, this isn’t funny..” You sigh worriedly, before tossing your phone onto the couch.

“Sorry, sorry.. What even was that about?” Nick asked, and you shook your head.

“I.. I don’t even know. It was Kyle, my boyfriend. He told me he wouldn’t call, since he knew I had friends over, unless it was urgent. He called, I answered, but he didn’t say anything.. All I could hear was that breathing..” You groan as you sit back down on the couch, next to Chris. “He’s probably fine.. I’m just overreacting. Did you guys pick a movie?” You asked, trying to advert your mind from the topic.

“Yeah, if Spongebob is okay,” Chris giggled, and you nodded. As Nick looked for the movie, you so badly wanted to pull out your phone, make sure your boyfriend was okay, and tell Matt to come over, but you knew you should refrain.

You didn’t want to be too pushy. You had already been told by people that you worry too much, and you figured they were right. Plus, it’s not like Matt would do anything.

The further you got into the movie, you felt more and more unease, which is the complete opposite of what you wanted to happen. The compete opposite of what was supposed to happen.

You began to feel paranoid, feeling like someone was watching you. You kept pushing it off as Chris or Nick, but maybe you shouldn’t have. Maybe you should’ve paid more attention to who was watching you.

You finally finished the movie, your mind still racing with nerve-racking thoughts. What if your boyfriend was hurt? What if Matt was hurt? What if Matt wasn’t going to forgive you? What if.. No. Enough with the what if’s.

“I think i’m gonna go to sleep, now. You guys should stay. I don’t want you going home this late.. You recently got your license and its pitch black outside. You’d probably hit a deer.” You joked, but both boys agreed. Nick called the couch, and Chris called the spare bedroom, knowing Nick would end up sleeping in the spare room anyways.

You headed to your room, and started feeling slightly better. Slightly less like someone was watching your every move. Maybe it was just Nick or Chris, and since they weren’t around now, the feeling wasn’t either.

You quickly changed into your pajamas, just a black cropped top, and red and black plaid pj pants. You threw your hair into a messy bun, before flopping down on your comfortable bed.

You picked up your phone, and saw there were no missed calls or texts. Maybe everything was fine. Maybe you were just overreacting. Or possibly, you weren’t.

You pulled up your texts with Matt, and typed out a smaller message to send him.

‘hey. im sorry if i was being petty earlier, you were just kinda making me upset, yk? id love to hangout sometime tmrw if your not busy? i do miss you matt.’ You meant it all, so you sent it. You’d hope he’d forgive you and move on, even if there wasn’t much to forgive.

You laid in your bed, complete silence filling the air around you, allowing you to fall deep into thought. Perhaps too deep.

You awoke to a loud ringing from your phone, which was laying next to your head. You yawned, before reaching over to grab it and read it, only to find out it was Kyle, who was once again calling you.

It was three in the morning. Kyle had a very strict sleep schedule, he was asleep by now. You quickly answered, no doubt in your mind now that something was wrong.

The same thing that happened the first time happened. Just the same heavy breathing, but no speaking. No speaking at all.

You hung up this time, and you remembered you have Kyle’s location on your phone. You didn’t have it because you ‘didn’t trust him’, it was just a fun Life 360 group of him, you, and some of your other friends.

When the screen finally loaded, you squinted at the sight. Why was he here? At your house? At three in the fucking morning.

Your heart began to beat faster, and you wanted to cry. What was going on? Matt acting weird, Kyle.. heavy breathing, harsh paranoia, and now your boyfriend in your house, and three fucking A.M, with no explanation?

You wanted to go look for him, or at least warn Chris and Nick. Well, not warn. Warn was a stretch, there was nothing to be afraid of. So, why were you so scared? As much as you wanted to get up, your body wouldn’t let yourself.

You felt trapped to your bed, as if it was a pit of quicksand. You realized that you have your phone on you. You could call 911, but whats the use? They’re going to show up, check the house, find nothing, and everyone thinks you’re crazy.

You could at least text Chris and Nick, though, and just prey they have their phones on silent. Why were you so scared of your own boyfriend? He’s never done anything to frighten you or harm you, so you weren’t sure why you were this on edge.

You reached for your phone, before you heard a small shuffle by your door, and your heart dropped. Someone was inside. Someone was inside your home.

You froze, you couldn’t move. You began to shake slightly, your throat going dry immediately. Another decision hit you.

Do you stay quiet, or do you call out? Regardless; whoever it was had Kyle’s phone, and they were in your house. This was targeted, and they knew you were there. This was all planned out.

“Kyle?” You called out, your voice just slightly above a mere whisper. Your doorknob turned; and your heartbeat went from extremely slow, to one-hundred miles per hour. You felt your throat tighten, and your eyes begin to fill with water. Fuck, you can’t break down now. Not now, out of all times.

“My love, there’s no need to be scared. I’m here. I’ll protect you.” Matt.

You could tell from his fucking voice. It was Matthew.

“Matt, oh my fucking god. That wasn’t funny. I almost fucking cried..” You began to trail off at the end of your sentence, as Matt came into view. His blood stained shirt and bloody hands, the rips in his shirt and pants.

Your thoughts immediately went to Kyle. Where the fuck was Kyle, and what the fuck happened with Matt.

“M-Matt, this isn’t funny. This isn’t fucking funny.. Jokes over. Matt, stop. You’re scaring me,” You stutter, as the boy began to inch closer to you, now leaning over you.

“Mh.. Well, I love you. You know that. But you loved him.. There was no other way I could win you, was there? No.. I don’t think so, either. I did the only option. Get rid of all of my opponents. And now look at me. Look at us. Alone, together. No more Kyle, just us. Yeah?” He asked sultry; pulling a bloody knife out of his waistband, dragging it softly against your neck.

Your breath was lodged in your throat, and you couldn’t breathe. What do you do in a moment like this? You can’t run, hide, call the cops, you can’t do anything. You’re helpless, and Matt knows this.

“M-Matt- please, please don’t- don’t hurt me,” You plea, tears begin streaming down your face, as you fight back your sobs.

“Well, You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I would’ve liked the same fucking respect I gave you, goddamnit. I gave you all my fucking love. All my time, care, everything. I gave you fucking everything. And all I get in return? Nothing. Fucking nothing. You had so much to offer.. Such a shame it has to go to waste like this, isn’t it?” He pressed harder, the knife threatening to cut through skin.

Just the smallest movement, and you’d be gone.

“Tell me how the stars are up there.” Matt speaks, a single tear rolls down his cheek, as he quickly rips his arm sideways, slicing the knife.

And just like that, love can turn to violence.

“I threw you out, I didn't outgrow you

I just didn't know you

But now you're back

And it's so terrifying how you paralyze me

Now you're showing up inside my home

Breathing deep into the phone

I'm so unprepared, I'm fucking scared.”

@bernardenjoyer @lovely-calypso

#Spotify #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #fanfic #christopher sturniolo #fluff #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #angst

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jerrysdmscreen · 3 months ago

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@xkuromix5

*rubs hands together maniacally* Truly, deep down, Bill and Perse fucking hate each other. They beat the shit out of each other all the time, throw punches as hard as possible- and Bill won't admit it, but Perse indeed wins every time. It's just what happens when you engage a boxer in a fist fight lol. Their relationship has always been an extremely strained and volatile one, and there was a club meeting where Perse had brought 🍃 brownies... Safe to say Bill is a lightweight and ate one too many, having to run off to the bathroom and green out. Feeling responsible as the dealer, Perse ran off to go talk him down, and from there, a bit of an emotional situationship blossomed. Very problematic when the two hate each other at their cores, but I digress. It led to Perse being strung along in hopes for something more, and after a few months of the mess, he had a meltdown in front of the club and effectively ended the situationship, storming off to go hide under the bleachers at Eltingville High. Jerry left the meeting not too long after to go find him, and that was the start of him and Perse's relationship! Once Bill found out, he was furious, even going as far as starting a fist fight with Jerry and attempting to murder Jerry's DND character so Jerry and Perse couldn't continue their romance storyline any further! (Spoiler: it only made the storyline that much better, Josh and Pete might as well be eating popcorn while they watched it unfold...) Jerry also ended up nearly caving Bill's face in over the DND thing, Perse having to pull him off after watching blood pour Bill's face. Over time, the volatility had settled down, and Bill and Perse's hateful relationship returned to what it once was, with neither harboring any sense of feelings for one another- unless it was hate. Bill sees Perse as a wallet and free art machine after this, and Perse couldn't care less, so long as he can come to club meetings and hang out with Jerry and Josh!

I could ramble forever about Perse's relationships with the Club...

#the eltingville club #the eltingville club oc

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andre-and-cal · 5 months ago

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me when I want some.........pup headcanons....STOPP it can BE SO SHORT or actual request what would caldre do on a date heh.......

Finally getting to overdue requests !! ^_^

Also uh my headcanons r too long so I’ll try to make them shorter from now on so they’re easier to read HELP SORRY I be #yapping too much

Andre and Cal on a date,,

Most of the time, they don’t really call it a date— they don’t even acknowledge their relationship as dating. They say they love each other, call each other affectionate names in private, but they never made it official that they are a thing, even though they behave how couples do. They kiss, cuddle, fuck, do stuff together, argue, fight…

When they do say “date”, it’s mainly Cal who brings up if Andre wants to “go on a date” with him. However, they tend to prefer directly asking each other to go somewhere private. Especially Andre.

Admittedly, toward the beginning of their romantic companionship, they both felt too insecure about bringing up going on “dates” with each other. So eventually, Cal was the first one to ask Andre straight-up, having to fight back against his social apprehension. To which, Andre accepted. He generally is always up to going on tender outings with Cal unless his parents or cousin need him for something at that time.

Now, Andre no longer feels as awkward as he did before. A lot of the times he just expects Cal to bring up going out together. He’s a pretty laid back guy when it comes to that, not minding whenever Cal requests it, as long as it isn’t on one of their mission days. As a result, Cal is usually the one to initiate plans for outings together. In a way, it’s kind of like a routine.

Andre and Cal nearly always go to quiet places. They prefer less chaotic, more undisturbed atmospheres, mostly because they both get annoyed when too many people are around them or crowding them, so they don’t attend concerts too often. They aren’t very fond of parties either, but will go under difference circumstances. Not that they’d be invited to their classmates’ parties anyway.

Generally, Andre and Cal like to go out to the movies together. But they don’t kiss during the movie. Instead, they laugh at different scenes together, especially if it’s some campy, low-budget horror movie. Cal occasionally tries to sneak edibles into the movie theater, but Andre always makes him put it away, quietly scolding him about his carelessness toward getting high in public. During the movie, Andre tends to pat Cal’s thigh or knee, and Cal likes to place his hand over Andre’s hand or knee— even lean his head on his shoulder. You best believe they’re sharing a big bag of popcorn or candy, too.

Sometimes they’ll hang around at empty parking lots as well. Despite the blatantly unsettling vibes present with the dim streetlights being the only sources of light in the parking lot, with both boys being aware that the setting is like “something straight out of a horror movie”, the melancholic solitude of the late-night vacant buildings still draws the two in. However, Andre and Cal refuse to get out of Andre’s car, since he carries pocket knives in his car’s front compartment just in case LMAO. They’ll sit and get comfortable, maybe talk for a while, with their hands tightly locked together.

They’ll even just drive around town in Andre’s car aimlessly, listening to music on the radio and getting some snacks and slushies at the gas station, so their tongues will be purple by the end of the night. ;3

And they also like to head to the CD store to both seriously purchase music, and individually— yet jokingly— get pornographic movies. It was Cal’s idea initially, and now it became kind of like a stupid “game” where they both gauge each other’s reactions when they put it on.

Andre and Cal do enjoy spending time together when they can. I think it’s also worth mentioning that they leave their camcorder behind, so that they can stay in the moment, essentially. Their outings can serve as simple— yet temporary— distractions from their Zero Day plans.

#zero day #andre kriegman #cal gabriel #calvin gabriel #zero day 2003 #zero day movie #caldre #calvin and andre #andre and cal #cal and andre #army of two #zero day cal #cal zero day #andre zero day #zero day andre #ben coccio

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phoebepheebsphibs · 1 year ago

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Double-Mutated Mikey

Chapter 13: Cheers

Continued from the short story written by @boots-with-the-fur-club

Including a short blurb, also written by @boots-with-the-fur-club

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The day went on pretty quickly after that...

April and Casey helped make plans with Leo and Raph up until around 4PM, when Mikey came running down the halls and pounced on Leonardo from behind, knocking him flat on his face. Donnie came stumbling through a few minutes later, his mask askew and eyes still conveying a need for some more sleep, but generally rested for the most part.

They'd made sure to entertain Mikey as best they could, playing a few games and letting Mikey wrestle with them. And by "them", it was mostly just Raph.

Raphael'd never had trouble when it came to sparring with Mikey before. Sure, the kid was strong and fast, but Raph was always the one to beat him no matter what. Now he actually had to work to hold his own against him. Mikey's play-fighting was chaotic and swift, his movements were a blur and Raph could tell he wasn't holding back on his strength anymore. Or maybe, he'd forgotten how...? In any case, he'd knocked him on his tail more than once and looked up to see him sitting perched on his chest with a great big grin. At least he was having fun.

After dinner -- which had a lot of proteins in it for Mikey of course -- they'd all settled down for a Lou Jitsu movie.

That was very interesting to witness.

They'd nearly forgotten about the issue with his eyesight, and had to find a way to watch the movie with the lights on. They came up with an odd compromise -- by shining a lamp over only Mikey, while the rest of the room was darkened. It worked well enough.

Mikey was confused at first, unsure what the movie was. For a moment, he seemed to think that it was almost like a window, and the people were real. He tried to attack it once. It was then that they realized that Mikey had a fierce disliking of humans now. He'd not gotten around to mentioning that beforehand, which would have been helpful to know before April came over...

Mikey watched the rest of the film with intensity. Slowly but surely, he became invested, and at one scene he heard the very familiar catchphrase.

"Ahh!! AH! AH!!! MMMMNNNGHH, Mmmmmaah! AAGH!" He shrieked, pointing and jumping and screeching with excitement.

"Yes, Mikey!" Leo laughed, his joy overflowing at knowing he remembered something. "Hot soup!"

Mikey bounced ecstatically. Even more so at seeing the enormous smile that his brother bore now. Donnie smirked. Raph's hands stimmed with glee. April chuckled at Mikey's enthusiasm. Splinter laughed happily and pet his head sweetly.

By the time the movie was finished, April had to leave to get back to her studies. But she promised to return when she could after class the next day.

"See ya later, bro-bro," she said with a smile as she knelt down next to Mikey and pat his head.

Mikey chirped in response, smiling at her happily.

The rest of the night was a mix of different things. Donnie peeled off to work on the anti-mutagen, Leo went to talk with Casey about... "things"... and Raph helped Splinter clear the living room of dishes and leftover popcorn.

Mikey took the opportunity to explore the lair some more. He went into every room, stayed for about five minutes to investigate, then went to the next interesting place.

He popped into Dee's lab first. The lab was dark again, but after the movie had ended, Mikey had gotten used to the darkness and his infrared vision had returned. He saw a blorb of heat sitting in a chair, typing away on a desk. The computer screens gave off some heat, but not as much as the consoles and hard drives beneath the desk. There wasn't much else to see. He'd gone up to Donnie and chirped at him, though Donnie hadn't responded beyond head rubs.

He got bored quickly and left the room to go look around. He found Raph and Splinter talking as they washed dishes. The kitchen was brightly lit, and Mikey's vision switched over again. He wandered in circles around the table, listening to their conversation without processing a single word. He just liked hearing their voices. But eventually he got bored of that too, and wandered out, looking around the halls and skate room and training room...

He'd come across Leon and Casey next. The two were talking in private, though Mikey hadn't picked up on that. They were standing just beyond the traincar bedrooms, and Mikey wondered what they were doing so far away. His infrared had come back, causing a minor headache but he muscled through it as he went towards the others. He noticed that the closer he got to them, the further away they went from the lair. Why? Why were they getting farther...

"...all I'm saying is that I get it, I really do," Casey muttered softly.

"You get it? You get looking at your family and not knowing who they are anymore?" Leo argued.

"Yes. That's every day of my life, now..." Casey responded.

"...I hadn't... I didn't realize... I'm sorry, dude, I just... You're right. And I don't mean to be a stranger to you, I'm really trying to be who you want me to be, but I--"

"I don't WANT THAT, Leo! You shouldn't have to change who you are now to fit who you were once to me. You'll never be him..."

There was a pause of painful silence.

"...And you don't have to be."

"But... I need to be, don't I? Not just for you, but for them -- for Raph, and Donnie, and --"

Leo suddenly turned towards Mikey and snapped.

"Mikey! What are you doing here? We're having a private conversation, do you mind --!"

Mikey jerked back nervously, looking between them. He didn't know... he couldn't tell they weren't facing him. He thought they saw him... He didn't mean to...

Leo sighed and walked over to him.

"I'm sorry for yelling. You startled me, that's all. C'mon, let's go hang in your room for a bit, okay?"

Leo turned to Casey.

"We can continue this conversation later."

"I don't think we need to," Casey responded, folding his arms. Mikey could see his expression, but his voice sounded a little bit agitated.

Leo sighed as he took Mikey back into his room to hang out.

"Oh, by the way, I found these," Leo said, once Mikey's eyes had readjusted to the light.

He handed him a pair of nunchucks.

"Snagged em while searching for you at the labs," he explained. "Figured you'd want them back."

Mikey looked down at the wood and chains. Were they a gift? Important? He didn't recognize them at all. He snorted at the weapons, then grabbed them in his mouth, and tossed them away.

Apparently they weren't interesting. Leo made the oddest expression when Mikey discarded his signature chucks, but he masked it pretty quickly, offering to try and entertain the kid until it was time for bed.

The two tried everything, from Mikey experimenting with some of his paints, to Leo reading a few of his comics to him like bedtime stories. Mikey and Leo conversed about a few things, such as who April was, and why she'd come.

Mikey signed to Leo to ask what to call him if "Blue" wasn't his actual name. Leo was extremely patient with him and helped him to memorize the sign for his and his brothers' names. Leo made sure to say the names as he signed them, helping reiterate them in his little brother's mind.

After several minutes, Mikey finally started yawning and pressed himself against Leon's chest. Leo lifted the baby brother up and carried him to his hammock to sleep in. Mikey chirped out a 'goodnight' before succumbing to sweet, sweet sleep.

Leo hummed as he tucked Mikey in, folding the blanket edges under his arms. Leo had to admit, Mikey was one heck of a trooper. He was scared, scarred, and lost in his own mind, but hopeful and cheery as ever, and 100% willing to work on himself to get better. He was already starting to remember things, and he'd come to trusting April pretty quickly despite the animosity he had for humans now... Maybe this wouldn't be so hard. It wouldn't be so bad...

“Mikey, it’s not that bad-!”

"No- no! You don't understand! It was my fault! It's me! It's always been me!" Mikey shouts, grabbing the front of his orange jacket, tears rolling down his cheeks as he pouts.

“I know you burned it twice now but you’re being super dramatic.” Leo rolls his eyes as he dumps a plate into the trash.

Mikey looks up at him and pouts a lot more.

Leo sighs and walks closer, patting Mikey’s head.

“You’ll get it, eventually! Took me a while to stop burning stuff.”

Leo only started making his own food maybe a year or two ago. Maybe closer to a year since Raph panicked about them burning themselves.

He is way more paranoid about Mikey so this practicing is supposed to be secret, but it won’t be if he keeps crying.

Mikey wipes his eyes but still hiccups.

“I-I keep messing up. Making it too hot and leaving it too long….I….I just want to be as good as you….”

Leo pulls him in close.

“You will be! Just gotta practice. Maybe you’ll be a big chef and you can make me all the food I want!”

Mikey sniffles.

“I-I can be?”

“You’re already good at soooo much stuff, why not? My super cool, talented little brother!”

Mikey smiles and giggles, rubbing his face into Leo’s shirt.

Leo smiles too, hugging him closer.

It wasn’t a lie.

He believes it 100%.

Mikey can do anything.

He’ll always be there to cheer him on.

Leo comes back to reality, the memory still vivid in his mind.

He cups Mikey's speckled cheek with a smile.

"I'm still gonna cheer you on, king," he whispers. "No matter what. You've got this..."

Mikey murmurs something in his sleep, and Leo can almost swear it sounds like an actual sentence or phrase. It might have been wishful thinking, the sound was too soft to actually hear. But Leo will go to his grave convinced that he'd heard Mikey mumble in his sleep...

Love you.

Leo smiles and gets ready to take the first sleepover shift.

Prev || Next

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fazedlight · 2 years ago

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Do-Over (supercorp ficlet, 100th episode angst, no plot impact after)

Rao, I can’t believe we did it.

She had nearly given up, after the last timeline - she could still feel the sting of kryptonite in her veins, the harrowing image in her mind of the green stone in Lena’s chest, as she refused to fight her. “Then you will die screaming.”

But the odds of another world like that - where Lena used 5th dimensional magic, blocking Mxy out - was low. So after Kara caught her breath and shook off her nerves, they decided to give it another few goes.

They hit it in the very next shot. Kara had decided to jump forward again, meeting Lena just after an uncomfortable incident in the elevator to Sam’s apartment - “I can never trust her again” - and giving her the truth. And Lena had been pissed, at first. But over the course of the timeline, she thawed. Kara and Mxy found themselves watching a movie night, Kara’s head in Lena’s lap as Lena gently scritched the blonde’s hair, Kara dozing off in the middle of the second Pirates of the Caribbean.

“This is it,” Kara said, delighted as she turned back to Mxy. “She doesn’t hate me! No one died! This is it-”

But Kara cut off suddenly, watching the screen with widening eyes, as a sheepish and fond confession fell from Lena’s lips. And she found herself a voyeur to her own dreams, watching herself as this other Kara sat up, cheeks turning a bright pink with her own confession, before the two women’s lips gently met.

“Turn it off,” Kara said, jumping off the couch and turning away from the television. “Turn it off, Mxy.” “But this-” Mxy stuttered, confused. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Yes, Kara thought to herself, overwhelming anguish ripping through her body. Because it was everything. Everything that could’ve and should’ve happened.

Had she not been such a fool.

It was a misguided endeavor, she realized now. She could’ve ignored her misgivings, for a time anyway. Embrace a reality where she and Lena were friends again, where she had never hurt her, or at least not driven her so far.

But the pit of nausea in Kara’s stomach grew. Because the idea of being in Lena’s arms, being in her bed, feeling her wanting body, without Lena ever knowing what Kara had done, suddenly felt anathema. It wouldn’t be real. It would simply be Kara taking advantage of her again, far worse than before.

“I’m keeping the real timeline,” Kara said brokenly. “I can’t… I can’t run from this. I- I don’t know how I’m going to fix this. But I can’t undo my mistakes like this.”

Mxy’s eyes gentled at the turned-away kryptonian, holding back a sigh of relief as he snapped his fingers, the projector and reels of film and popcorn dissipating back to his dimension. It was ironic, really, that all of his fake timelines had only made the kryptonian dig in her heels, eager to find something that actually worked. But the one real timeline he had them glimpse - back on Earth-413, before the Crisis - was the one that led to her finally accepting that she couldn’t change time.

Which was great, because neither could he.

Kara took a deep, steadying breath, turning back to Mxy. “I know it didn’t turn out the way we expected,” Kara said, handing back Mxy’s recorder with his backwards-recorded name. “But you still helped me, Mxy. Now I know the only way out is through.”

The kryptonian stood - sad, but hopeful again - and Mxy gave a small smile. As with so much of the mystery of the universe, he couldn’t say how or when Kara and Lena would find their way. He only knew that they would.

“It’s true what you said, Kara,” Mxy said, thinking of the words the woman in front of him had said, not all that long ago. That’s all this endeavor was, really, returning that favor. “Magic can’t be forced. It has to be found.” And it will.

#angst with a hopeful ending #I just didn't feel satisfied with the ending of the 100th episode so here's another do-over #supercorp fanfic #supercorp ficlet #supercorp #mel writes ficlets

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silverkittenx9 · 5 months ago

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The Powerpuff Girls: Twas' Fight Before Christmas (MY THOUGHTS)

The Powerpuff Girls: Twas' The Fight Before Christmas (Season 5, Episode 4)

Original Airdate: December 12th 2003 (released on home video in October 2003)

Written By: Lauren Faust, Craig Lewis

Personal Rating: 9/10 👍

The Powerpuff Girls is one of my all-time favorite cartoons.... and for a good reason too. The premise of three kindergarten girls beating the shit out of bad guys is an awesome premise for a cartoon. You don't see innocent children going ham often.... but here 👆

Anyway, I'm going to talk about the Christmas special since it's that time of year again 🎄🎅 It's a very nice episode! A lot of people even say that it's one of the few good post-movie episodes.... and no, seasons 5-6 aren't nearly as bad as people make them out to be. They have their occasional stinkers (*cough* Sun Scream), but overall.... there's just as many good episodes as the earlier seasons. I like all the seasons, actually.... but the first two ones are my favorite. Hands down.

We start off in The City Of Townsville as usual, where the children of Pokey Oaks Kindergarten are enjoying their last day of school before holiday break. Kids are shown stringing popcorn and making Christmas crafts. They all give apples to Ms. Keane since she's just the best teacher 😉 Bubbles made several pictures of Santa and his reindeer, taping them onto the classroom bulletin board. Buttercup becomes annoyed by her ear-piecing singing and starts a brief argument with her.... which is interrupted by Princess Morbucks, who somehow was allowed back into Pokey Oaks 🤷‍♀️ She belittles the girls and as usual, behaves like a condescending jerk towards them. The girls rightfully call her out for all the bad things she's done over the series (including the time she manipulated new kid Robin into being her friend). Being the entitled rotten brat she is, she thinks she's gonna get everything for Christmas. In fact, she goes as far as to travel all the way to the North Pole, sneak into Santa's workshop, and put every single person in the planet on the naughty list but herself. Little do the Utonium family know she's coming up with a nasty scheme that's going to affect not just Santa, but the entire world. Yes, even Antarctica.

The girls (well, Bubbles) wake up the next morning to find coal in their stockings. As expected for a young child who is looking forward to opening presents, she starts to sob in disappointment over the fact she got coal for Christmas. She's not the only one whose stockings are full of coal (an expected result from Morbucks' plan). Blossom and Buttercup later wake up and are surprised by this. They eventually find out Princess Morbucks was the one behind this all along. Typical PPG shenanigans occur, lingering into Santa's workshop. The workshop is destroyed by a bunch of superpowered children fighting each other in a tornado.... to which a distraught Santa intervenes. He is very disappointed that seemingly every kid in the world is on the naughty list. But what he doesn't know is that Morbucks sabotaged the nice list. When he eventually finds out, he immediately puts Morbucks on the permanent naughty list (BUM-BUM-BUM). Realizing the workshop is a mess with elves and reindeer running around, he asks the girls to deliver all the presents. They manage to deliver all of them before sunrise. Okay, we should hire The Powerpuff Girls to deliver presents for now on.... they're obviously faster than Sonic The Hedgehog 🤣🤣 When the girls are finally able to go back to sleep, The Professor barges into their room, behaving like an overgrown 5-year old himself. He shows actual disappointment when the girls tell him to go back to bed. Who knew The Professor could be a "big kid" at times 😂

And that concludes the special. I'm going to say it again, but I really love this episode! The plot is a rather unique twist on most Christmas specials we often see.... rather than the main characters trying to get themselves off the naughty list, they try to put the villain onto the naughty list, especially since she's such a spoiled brat. Even their depiction of Santa is somewhat unique; he's portrayed as a bit of a hippie, complete with lingo. Funny moments are scattered throughout.... like these:

What else can I say? It's the good old Powerpuff Girls! Nothing can go wrong with those three 🥰 Kinda a shame they never had a Halloween or Easter special 😞

#powerpuff girls #cartoon network #review

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burningfeathersx · 4 months ago

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He couldn't feel the Lake-Ice anymore. A dull comfort to feel warm. It meant he'd been pulled out wholesale for this fucking weasel.

When he'd woke, the magician had carefully read off printer paper a series of rules. What he could and, specifically, could not do while under the yoke of that ring on his finger. Anyone else and any time else and he might've been impressed. It only left him infuriated.

He'd dragged his heels as much as possible. Even managed to let go of a feather to a summons as an SOS. But it didn't matter. Not right then. He dragged the wings around behind him. Limp and numb. One of the Rules had taken his flight and use of them except in very specific circumstances. Like being told to.

Flightless.

Locked him into this diminutive form, too. Stripped of his glamours, he was somewhat unsightly. Gnarled and damaged and encased in his equally battered armor of mail and leathers--very few plates. He'd taken his fucking dagger made of Stan's tooth and his fucking hammer, too.

Sometimes the Wrath bubbled up so hot he was sure he was going to stroke out only to have Mittelman snap at him to stop shaking--and he would. Sharp and without his fucking input. He wanted to scream. The power of the Ring choked him hard. Do not make noise unless asked a question.

Soundless.

When Jerimiah got tired of the glares around the three hour mark, he was told to keep his eyes down unless otherwise told.

He hated the shade of marbled gray linoleum that had occupied his vision since. Even God had given him more freedom than this when he'd been in service to Him. His blood kept boiling. Mind kept worrying and picking and tearing at every word the man had ever spoken--all of them orders and restraints and instructions. All of them simple and tightly crafted. When not, covered by the initial read off.

His mind turned to scenarios of violence. Filled his vision red. He knew what a head looked like when smashed like a watermelon. Knew the smell and the taste and he hadn't wanted to revisit those sensations in such a long time that it startled him that the memory was so fresh. The taste of human livers. Intestines. Bone marrow. Squishy, melty, eyes.

He lost track of time. Only returned to his circumstances when Jerimiah's modular voice, tinged with a Bostonian accent, issued a new order;

"Walk forward, mm, eight steps then turn right. Look upon the table there, then lay upon it. Faceup."

Lucifer tried to fight it. This only turned into a standstill where he neither moved nor did anything fucking else he wanted to do. It earned him an annoyed sigh from his Keeper. The sort someone gives to a stubborn child.

Fuck. You.

Still, there was a breaking point between his Will and the Ring's. The Ring always won. He marched forward. Lock step and with a matching military turn.

The table was a slab. Something metal and more like something he'd seen out of a morgue. This was not good. Still, he pulled himself up onto it and laid back with a thud. View now a ceiling with that popcorn texture that never made much sense to him in midcentury homes.

"Close your eyes."

He did.

"Good. Now, do not move until told."

Eat shit and die.

He did not move. Clips and ties and straps and belts were undone on his torso. Metal and leathers removed. Exposing his chest from clavicle to navel.

Still did not move. Not even when the middle of his chest lit up on fire. He didn't move. He didn't scream. He didn't cry. He wanted to scream. It hurt. Hurt as the shape of the cut was enhanced into a Y. He wasn't dead! He wasn't a corpse! Stop! Couldn't even curl his hands into fists.

There were easier ways to get inside there! To take out whatever the fuck Jerimiah wanted from his insides! Easier ways! He could take them out and it wouldn't hurt nearly as much! Wouldn't drag him back to the early days on the ice. When Satan was still curious. A feminine face and goatish red eyes burst out of his recollections like a phantom firework. He'd nearly forgotten her.

The air was too cold for what exposed once ribs were cracked and opened up with an unforgiving metal mechanism he was not familiar with. All he knew was the metal dug into four points and broke him open. And he couldn't scream.

There was a big of aimless rummaging. Not every day one got to take a look at the manifest organics of a Fallen angel, he supposed. He would have laughed if he could have screamed first. Bitterly, both.

He knew it was all rudimentary in there. No real digestive tract that wasn't a drop into a stomach-like sac. Some misshapenly lungs. Something vaguely reproductive in the pelvic cavity. Everything else bone and flesh and meaty muscle to fill the gaps.

And his heart. That was what was investigated last. He could feel the latex covered hand close around it. In his chest it had a beat and was soft as the organ should be. It hardened with a firm squishiness once removed. The beating slowed and weakened. Cobalt blue and having the faceted edges of a precious cut gem--marred distinctly by a missing chunk at the bottom that spider-ed a series of cracks through out the rest.

Lucifer was left behind as Jerimiah took it across the room to a receptacle. A sort of glass, round, vase filled with a clear liquid. There were tubes attached and wire emerged from those tubes into the inside of the vat. Jerimiah moved slow and careful to wrapped the gem in the vat with the coppery wires until satisfied.

Lucifer could feel the wires and the hands and the fucking cold of the liquid.

He heard a loud clank a moment before a fresh agony was introduced. A feeling he'd never endured before. Uncharted territory of...words were difficult to find for it even if he'd had the mind to search for them.

The scream inside was too loud.

Something was passing through and when it left it took from him. Took and took.

It was all he could conceptualize--the pain and the taking.

#ic

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leahgrxy · 1 year ago

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@wyatt-rhys thread: feel the heat location: the curtain; movie theater

Movies were never her thing. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate the complex art of storytelling through visual medium as such, but truthfully… she’d heard them all and trying to sit still for a minimum of an hour and a half felt like pulling splinters from beneath her nails. And yet - as the ever-doting best friend, she’d once again agreed to rally everyone up for their bi-monthyly cinema date. It was all part of the act, weeks out from graduating and trying to pull together as much time as possible with the people who’d managed to get her through another four years of pretending like adolescence was all new to her. There were certainly a great many places she would rather be. Sarah, however, would have never shut up about it - and sometimes the wrath of the redhead that sat next to her now ranked right up there with some of the worst she’d experienced before.

Not nearly as mindlessly as she might have hoped, Leah tried to slow the bounce in her knee. Impatience, digging in beneath her ribcage as they awaited the doors somewhere beyond the smoky haze of The Curtain’s lobby to open and allow them through to take their seats. Her other leg tucked up beneath her as she sat upon the old cracked leather of the “seating” just outside, grew numb. An ironic parallel to the ringing in her ears as she sat in wait, trying her best to zone out the conversation that hung somewhere in the dim lighting, clinging to the haze that she’d never quite figured out the origin of after all these years.

The popcorn feels stale, but it’s hot and she’s had worse. It’s not much of a loss when Hunter grabs a fistfull, scooping it out as if he had shovels for hands and more than a few pieces scatter across the floor in-front of her, “We did tell him the right time, right?” Sarah asks, looking rather pointedly at Leah, “You did tell him the right time, right?” Because it’d been her responsibility to text Wyatt - even if it was her best friend who was hoping he’d show. In truth, Leah wanted to put as much space between her and the greenie as she possibly could. For no other reason than, she just couldn’t be bothered with the work it’d take to keep a new wolf in check; but she knew that look. The one that made it impossible to say no to - she only wondered if she’d ever been as hopeful as the girl who’d latched onto her four years prior. “He’s coming okay, he said something about picking up Kelsey and Jer. Not sure a movie was a great choice if you were hoping to talk to him,” Which, she was - Sarah was. A repetitive reminder she told herself as Sarah tried to manipulate the order of everyone’s seats as the three wayward friends approached a few minutes later. “Leah, switch with me.” A whisper spoken far too quickly for her to comprehend before lithe fingers plucked her ticket stub from her own. “What?..-- Yeah, right.. Okay.” What the fuck was happening? “God, he’s so cute.” A throw-away comment, or at least she hopes so - what exactly is she meant to say? The best she can offer is a curt nod and a smile that’s barely there as Wyatt and the others join them. Two wolves from separate packs being in such close proximity was never a good thing, it’d been pure luck that kept them both alive and allowed them to be standing there as the doors opened. Sarah squeezed her hand, and try as she might, the look on her face as they were soon shrouded in darkness didn’t share the same breath of excitement as her best friends.

It’s all she can do to count down the time until the lights come on, Sarah had somehow found her way to the seat beside Wyatt and left her squashed between Justin and Liam fighting for the very air she needed to breathe while they sucked all of it right up as they spoke over her. The bucket of popcorn sits on her lap, the dust of butter and salt flung about as the pair dig into it as if it might be the last thing they ever eat and though she’s always been one of the boys, this is just one more reason that her patience feels as though it’s worn thin. “Twenty bucks,” Justin whisper-shouts over her to Jackson, “Fuck off, you cheapskate.” The lid of Jackson’s soda pops off as he throws a half assed fist across her shoulders and into Justin as he chuckles, the chill of iced soda spills across the denim of her knee and immediately she hates the feel of it. Somewhere between meaning to cuss him out, and trying to ignore the fact that they were putting down a bet on whether Jackson could fuck Sarah before Wyatt did, the flicker of something in the reflection of a singular ice cube strikes her down cold. A trick of the light, that’s her immediate thought. Even as it flickers again, and her throat closes over. It’s the amber glow that drowns out the haze of the once dark room that encroaches upon the last of her patience. Only, it’s not anger that breaks through. The crackling sound bearing down from the mounted speakers, and even though she’s crowded into the tiny, uncomfortable seat by people on all sides, she’s thousands of miles away, alone. Watching flames engulf a house entirely different to the one on the screen. Her leg has stopped bouncing, and, try as she might to look anywhere but the flicker of flames that illuminate the screen, it’s impossible to do so without someone noticing that Leah Grey exists in that moment only because her heart hammers against her ribcage like a tribal drum. The shatter of glass erupts, and she feels the way she flinches all the way to her bones, and with each new crack in the glass, she loses her breath. The voice over the speakers cries out, but it’s not the voice she hears in her head. She smells burning flesh and the bucket of popcorn hits the floor as she jumps to her feet, involuntarily. “Sorry.. sorry..-’ And though nobody has a hold of her, the space between the row in-front and the guys beside her feels miniscule at best. “What the fuck, Leah?” Justin growls out, brushing the mess of popcorn from his lap as if she’s personally offended him, “Just move,” his legs block her way and it takes her three takes to push beyond him, the whole while trying to keep her voice as low as possible, when all she feels growing is the cry caught up in her throat. The arm of the chair snaps, as she shoves her way through, all but climbing over the few others she had to, to make the isle in minimal steps. The last thing she hears, beyond the unrivaled crackle of fire and destruction, is the word psycho die out on Jackson’s tongue. Heat, rage - and screaming. One voice, the most familiar. She calls out, over and over, for someone - anyone. She's always too late. The cool air makes no difference. Even beyond the haze and smoke that may or may not even be there, she fights to fill her lungs and no amount of oxygen seems to flush the memory from her lungs. “I’m fine,” she snaps, unsure exactly of who she expected to see as the doors beside her swing open, the shadow of another taking up space at the toe of her boots. Inhale. She tries - fails, and coughs out some attempt to cover it up. “Just, being a little psycho.” It’s muttered, because she doesn’t actually expect anyone else to have heard that, bar Justin and Jackson, but it stung enough to matter.

#* wyatt #i dont remember how im tagging these but ill check back later

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