#and my phone cable is splitting into half

[barcaracing]

you’re wearing his kit | pg8

summary: pedri and y/n go public with their relationship and it doesn't take long before the media digs up her past with another barcelona player whose name happens to be on the back of her kit in one photo

pairing: pedri x reader ft. platonic!gavi

warnings: angst, a bit of fluff first

a/n: what's uppppp!! i'm back from the dead to say that i've been obsessed with pedri lately, so here's me contributing to a better society. enjoy! and to anyone who's also in the middle of exams, good luck soldier <3

*******

"This is scary." Pedri shoots you a sideways glance. You nod, not daring to take your eyes off the phone in front of you even though the screen is still black. You sit in silence for another five minutes before footsteps come banging down the stairs. They halt abruptly at the doorway, then shuffle into the living room.

"Guys?" Fer stops behind the couch.

You hum at the same time that Pedri grunts. Like a caveman. You shoot him a funny look that goes unnoticed as his eyes remain glued to the coffee table.

Fer's head pops in between the two of you. "Not to interrupt...whatever you're doing, but why are you staring at my phone? It's not even turned on."

Pedri's head snaps to his brother. "What?"

You sit up and look at him as well. "What do you mean it's not turned on?"

Fer reaches over to grab his phone, clicking the side button several times. "It's dead. I need to charge it."

Feeling like someone just poked a hole into your chest, you deflate against the back of the couch, your head falling onto Pedri's shoulder with a breathy laughter. "So we've been staring at nothing the last 20 minutes?" You ask and Fer snorts, flinging himself into the single armchair on your left to look for a charger.

"Yes," he says, plucking the cable into his phone. "You weirdos."

Pedri's shoulder shakes with laughter. He runs a hand through his hair and lets his arm fall behind your back to pull you further into his side. "This is already getting over our heads."

"You think so?" You deadpan and let out a giggle when he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck.

"Maybe we should just cut off all electronics for the next couple of days," Pedri mumbles into your skin and you have a feeling he's just thinking out loud. "It's only been half an hour and I'm so stressed, I thought I was going to lose all my hair."

Mortified, you look up and give his hair an experimental tug. You tug once more, but Pedri quickly wraps his hand your wrist and kisses your pulse, making you narrow your eyes at him. "Don't you dare go bald on me right after we announced to the world that we're dating. It'd look bad on me if I left you because of your shiny scalp."

Pedri moves back and raises his brows at you. "You would break up with me if I lost my hair?"

"Yes," you say without an ounce of shame. Fer lets out a snort.

"Why?" Pedri sputters. "I'd still look the same. My face wouldn't change. Honestly, I could look great bald."

You scoff although the corners of your mouth tug up. "Are you telling me you want to go bald?"

Pedri falters for a split second, but he nods. "To prove a point? Of course."

You regard him for a moment, searching his eyes for any signs that he will back down. You're not surprised to find none. He never backs down. Finally, you shrug. "Fine."

Fer perks up. "Wait, what?"

Pedri is still looking at you with absolute confidence, his gaze flickering between your eyes. A sly smirk slowly sweeps over his lips. "You sure about that, princesa?" He moves closer until you can feel his breath on your face and his voice drops. "I know how much you love holding onto it when you're—"

A pillow hits the side of his head.

"Okay!" says Fer loudly, flinging his arms around as if to swat away the rising tension. Pedri has the audacity to laugh after taking one glance at your flustered face. You smack his face with the pillow before tossing it back at his brother. He only laughs harder.

"Gross. Actually vile," Fer mumbles, glaring at the two of you before resuming to his phone. He freezes and his thumb hovers over his screen, mid-scroll.

"What's wrong?" Pedri asks, concern pushing off the laughter in his voice. "Fer?"

"I—" His brother looks up, gaze flickering to you before his fingers rapidly fly across the keyboard of his phone. Your spine straightens.

"Fer?" You can't help but sound alarmed as well. He keeps muttering to himself and the only thing you can make out are 'can't be' and 'she wouldn't.' You really need to know what's going on.

Pedri slides forward, hand settling on your knee before he kicks Fer lightly in the leg. "Hermano, what's wrong?"

You watch in high anticipation as his eyes scan the screen and it takes everything in you not to urge him to just say it. Are people saying horrible stuff online? Was it a bad idea to go public? If this is a mistake, there's no going back. You feel your heart pounding against your ribcage and Pedri notices because, of course, he does. He squeezes your leg and you send him a small smile.

His warm gaze calms you but there's wariness pulling at his eyes, so you press a gentle kiss to his shoulder. His smile grows and he pecks your cheek before looking back over to his brother, about to speak only to be cut off by the familiar ringtone slicing through the thick tension of the room. The volume makes you jump and you move to stand up, but Pedri swiftly kisses to the top of your head, telling you that he'll get it before hauling himself over the back of the couch to answer the call.

You know that both of you turned off all notifications before you made the post on Instagram, only allowing calls from close friends and family to come through.

"Gavi?" Pedri's voice drifts from the kitchen and Fer inhales sharply. You furrow your brows. His eyes find yours and you want to ask him what’s wrong, but his face is carefully devoid of emotions. His gaze feels accusatory and it honestly freaks you out.

"Fer?" You say cautiously, fingers fiddling in your lap. "What happened?"

Before he could reply, Pedri reenters the room. His voice rises as he responds to the person on the other end. He ignores your questioning look and stops in front of his brother, jabbing out his hand impatiently. Fer immediately drops his phone into his palm and your confusion multiplies as you watch your boyfriend's eyebrows draw together, chest rising. Gavi's voice can be heard faintly through the phone that is still pressed to his ear and you only realise now that it's yours. You forgot you have the same ringtone.

"Mhm," says Pedri absently while scrolling through Fer's phone, "okay, yeah." You get the impression that he's not paying attention to whatever Pablo is saying and now you're pissed because you're pretty sure you're going to die of curiosity or old age before anyone even bothers to tell you what's going on.

"I can see it—" Pedri snaps and instantly stops himself. He closes his eyes and bites his lip, his knuckles loosening around Fer's phone. "I know it's not…can you just—" He lets out a shaky breath and you can see him forcing the tension out of his shoulders.

"Look, I really don't want to hear your voice right now. So just- It's fine. No, it's fine. I know…yeah, bye," Pedri mumbles halfheartedly before tossing your phone onto your lap without sparing you much of a glance. You look down at your lock screen of Pedri and you sharing a cone of ice cream at the beach before the screen fades into black and your reflection stares back at you.

You look up at your boyfriend whose eyes are fixed on a spot on the armchair Fer is sitting on. Slowly, you stand up and step forward, hand reaching out to find Pedri's. Your fingertips grace his and that seems to shake him out of his thoughts. He moves his hand back and finally looks at you.

"Pedri?" Your voice is soft, mostly because you're afraid that speaking any louder might push him away. He looks so fragile right now. "Please tell me what's going on."

Without a word, he hands you Fer's phone. Letting your eyes linger on him a moment longer, you shift your gaze to the bold headline taking up half of the screen.

Scandal rocks FC Barcelona as New Girlfriend of Star Player Caught in Love Triangle! Shocking Photos Show Her Wearing Another Player's Kit at Games Before Going Public with Pedri!

"What?" Your eyes widen. The phone nearly slips out of your hands as you hastily scroll through the rest of the article, searching for the photos. You didn't, you thought. You would never! The photos are at the very bottom of the page and every second is absolute torture, but once the images load, your breath stutters. "What the hell?"

"Yeah," Fer scoffs and your head snaps up so fast, your neck twinges. "What the hell, Y/N?"

You make to speak but your gaze sweeps over your boyfriend who is simmering with resentment and sadness. You want to reach out, touch him, but you can tell it's gradually bleeding into anger. He's never been mad with you before. The only times you've seen him lose his temper was on the pitch. It doesn't take much to see that he's trying his absolute best to compose himself. You take a deep breath and muster a levelled gaze at his brother. "Fer, can you please give us a moment?"

"What?” He frowns. "No. Y/N, what were you thinking—"

"Out."

Fer’s mouth snaps shut as Pedri's voice cuts through the room.

"What?"

"Get out," Pedri grits through his teeth. Fer looks between you two before shaking his head with a sigh. He plucks his phone out of your hands and casts one last look at you. Once the door on the floor above clicks shut, you step in front of Pedri.

"I can explain."

He scoffs, eyes burning into yours for a brief second. Then, he's across the room as if he can't bear the thought of you near him. It stings. He keeps shaking his head and if you were in any other situation, you would've found it amusing how similar he was to his brother.

"Can you—" You watch him pace around, your patience dwindling. He keeps moving, looking anywhere but you, and it's driving you insane. Your chest tightens as you feel him work himself up, the situation slipping further and further from your fingers. "Pedro, can you just stop for one goddamn moment and let me explain."

Huffing, he finally comes to a halt on the other side of the coffee table and meets your eye. For an odd second, you feel thankful that the flimsy piece of furniture is separating you. As if it could do anything while the predator is flashing his bloody fangs. "Fine. Go on. What's the great explanation to this? Were you two dating and you just never thought to tell me?" Pedri bites out, speaking over you like you never even opened your mouth. "It's all too well then. I've found out with the rest of the world, didn't I? You know how much I love surprises. I'm flattered, really."

The sarcasm dripping off his words burn like acid and no matter how much you're shaking your head and trying to cut him off, he's not stopping until he draws blood. You know it's to match his own wound, but it doesn't make it any less painful.

"Gavi called you. Not me, his team mate and best friend. You. That's enough of an explanation, so I guess it's just all about the details now. Were you fucking Gavi before you got bored and decided I would have to do? Enlighten me, please."

Your mind is collapsing, failing to register the blunt ends of Pedri's words piercing through your skin. Tears burn in your eyes, but you are not going to cry. You won't. Not because of this.

"Where is this coming from?" You hate how hollow your voice sounds.

Pedri blinks at you. "You're not really asking me that. Do you think I don't know about the rumours? You and Gavi? How you liked him before we got together. Why it didn't work out between you, I have no idea because Gavi liked you too, you know. We used to listen to him talk about you in the dressing room before he finally introduced you to us as just his friend. And I made sure you were nothing else to him before I asked you out because he's my best friend and I didn't want to ruin anything."

"You didn't," you say, frowning. "We were never together. I've told you this before. Pablo was never my boyfriend. Nothing ever happened.”

Pedri shakes his head. "That doesn't change the fact that you had feelings for him and probably still do. You wanted to keep us a secret for months and now I see you having no problems wearing his name on your back, showing it off to the entire world before I even got to see you in my kit. My own girlfriend. Do you know how stupid I feel?"

You're not sure how it happened but Pedri is standing before you now, eyes shining bright with so much hurt. You know he won't back down. He never does. Struggling to breath, you take a step back. Your voice is thick when you speak. "This isn't fair."

"No," Pedri says, bitterly, stepping back as well. "It isn't." He exhales and looks to the side, eyebrows still drawn together. "I think you should go."

You stare at him. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you slowly nod. Fine. Sure. Whatever he wants. Who cares what you want. You feel so tired. Without a word, you grab your phone and head out the front door, letting it slam behind you.

Three days later, a girl slips Pedri her phone number and he tucks it into his pocket. The video goes viral and your phone doesn’t stop going off, so you turn it off completely. After all, the only person you actually wanted to talk to still hasn’t called.

A week later, Pedri is flying to Madrid to train with the national team and the only reason you know about it is the red circle glaring at you on your kitchen calendar. How did it all fall apart so fast?

************

i have no idea what happens next or if anyone’s interested in reading a second part but if u are, let me know how you’d want this to be resolved and end bc pedri said some mean stuff here and we don’t know what the reader did or didn’t do and i honestly just never plan these things lmao stay hydrated x

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

“If You Don’t Look Good, We Don’t Look Good” - Dean x Reader

Rating Explicit

Dean x Reader

Tags: Fluff, Angst, Humor, Shameless Smut (I got carried away), Cameo Appearance by Soft!Dom Dean, Unprotected Sex

Word Count: 4200

You and Sam had decided on a code to use in the most grievous, world-shattering of situations.

Full Dean Meltdown

Neither one of you have had to use it – until you get a text from Sam. A case has gone all kinds of awful for Dean. You are not ready for the version of Dean you have to face in the aftermath.

Notes: This is total self-indulgence because I miss This Dean.

I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo and this part will fill my "Hair Pulling" square.

Image created in Canva (links for photos used - found on Google: Jensen Ackles, Liverpool Comic Con, 2023; Jensen Ackles Photo Shoot

66

You stare, mid-muffin chew, at Sam’s text.

“Fuck me.” A few stray crumbs and a rogue blueberry land on a page of lore you should probably be more careful with. But you can’t be bothered with MOL reference handling procedures at the moment.

This is Red Alert. Defcon 5. Designated Survivor Mode Activated.

You and Sam had decided on a code to use in the most grievous, world-shattering of situations.

Full Dean Meltdown

“Fuck.” There’s no point in continuing to curse to yourself. “Fuck.” But you can’t help it. Neither one of you has ever had to use it before. You’d come close a few times.

The book is forgotten, pushed to the side on the table surface. Your fingers glide over the phone’s keyboard.

Is he alright?!? What happened? Please, tell me this is a joke?

I wouldn’t joke about this. Sam’s words bubble up, line by line. Well, I made the mistake of joking right after it happened. It’s gotten progressively worse the entire drive back. He hasn’t said a single word since we got in the car. IDK what’s gonna happen.

“Fuck.”

Should I evacuate? How much time do I have?

Just pulled into the garage.

Shit, Sam! Do you not understand how a code word for disaster preparedness works? One needs enough time to actually prepare for the disaster!

You wait. More bubbles. Then nothing. Maybe Sam didn’t make it out alive. Maybe you should make a run for it through the war room and up the stairs. Save yourself.

I received some communication. He’s headed straight for the showers. Meet you in the lab.

“A what?”

“Musca.” Sam sighs. “Ever seen ‘The Fly’?”

“On cable years ago, filtered through my fingers.”

Sam continues. “They secrete this sticky goo to build a nest.” His mouth crinkles. “Dean landed in it.”

“The nest?” you ask.

“The goo. A puddle of the stuff. Monster fluids freak him out.”

You shiver in disgust at the thought. “Fuck creature feature fluids. 100% in agreement.”

“So, we tracked the musca to its hideout in an abandoned factory. We split up when we got inside…”

“Why do you always split up?” you ask, following it with a frustrated groan.

Sam purses his lips and then proceeds. “When I found him, he was basically glued to this massive conveyor belt holding the goo like it was a kiddie pool. I had to cut him out of most of his clothes to free him.”

The thought of a half-naked Dean has you shiver for other reasons. “Poor guy,” you add in an effort to express sympathy over your dirty thoughts.

Sam chuckles.

You straighten with worry Sam has figured out your crush on his brother. Ready to dispute any yearnings, you add a grumbly edge to your voice and the question. “What was funny about any of that?”

Sam fists long strands on the right side of his scalp high in the air. “Even his hair got stuck to the belt. I had to hack half of it off.” He fingers his bangs back into effortless waves. “Once we killed it, Dean mumbled, ‘Vidal Sassoon you ain’t, fucker.’”

You shrug, confused. “Well, I mean, I get the trauma from the nasty gnat excretions. But that doesn’t explain why you had to warn of a possible Dean disaster.”  

Sam’s gaze tears from yours to stare at the floor by his boots.

“Sam?”

He lifts a shoulder. “I might have said something like, ‘We can’t all be masterful hunters with glorious locks.’”

You frown. “Sam…”

Sam raises a hand in defense. “Hey, maybe now he’ll finally shut up about my hair being a liability. I mean, hello, I’ve still got mine.”

The temptation to knock on Dean’s bedroom door is great. But you refrain, hiding away in yours instead. He’ll be better in the morning, you decide. Especially if you fry up some bacon.

A light rap of knuckles against mahogany distracts you from the latest show binge on your laptop. You pause the action. “Yeah?”

“Got a minute?” Even with the question, Dean’s tone sounds like a command.

You gulp. “Sure.” Rotating in the seat, your hand grips the top of the backrest. You’ll try to hold the line against the Dean Winchester Offensive.

The door swings slowly on its hinges. Dean slinks into your space. It’s the opposite of his usual bluster and humorous bellows that lead to inevitable laughter on your end. His slippers shuffle along the tile. He’s wearing roomy sweats and a dark t-shirt that hugs his torso. A folded towel is wedged into the crook of his arm. 

Your brain locks onto two things that appear off about Dean. The first thing totally out of place on the masterpiece before you is the baseball cap.

In the next second, you remember why he’s wearing it. It’s not because he’s undercover as a delivery driver or Fish and Wildlife Game Warden.

Dean does not want you to see his hair in its current state.

The second thing makes your pulse quicken. His beard is… gone. You can’t remember the last time you saw him even close to clean-shaven. You forgot what that sharp jawline used to do to your insides.

“Hey.” You don your best don’t-let-on-to-anything smile.

Dean scrutinizes you as if you are a witness in his rapid-fire way and then huffs. “Son of a bitch told you, didn’t he?”

You decide not to remind Dean he and Sam share the same mother. “He did. I’m sorry. You okay?”

The door clicks shut. “I’ll live. Sam might not see the light of day, though.”

You ignore the murder threat, instead focusing on a new scent in the air. You sniff, nostrils flaring with the deep inhale. Dean smells like he’s working on an amazing beach tan.

He nods at your reaction. “Coconut Oil. I had to use all that was in the kitchen for…” He circles his lower body with a finger and eventually points to the baseball cap.

“Did it do the trick?”

“Better than I hoped. I even got all that nasty shit out of my hair.” His weight shifts from one foot to the other. “But I need a favor.”

“At your disposal.” Still seated, you somersault your hand as if addressing royalty.

That at least cracks a tiny smile into his serious veneer. “I had to take a razor to my hair and cut it pretty short. Can you clean me up in the back?”

You clutch your chest and gasp in the most dramatic fashion you can muster. “You trust me to touch your hair?” 

“I trust you with my life, wiseass.” Dean smirks. “Can the sass and help a guy out, would ya?”

A warmth blossoms in your heart at Dean’s words. The heat spreads to your skin. You wave a hand at the towel and clear your throat. “Those the accouterments?”

Dean quirks a brow and grins. “Croutons?”

“And you call me the wiseass.” You sigh.

He shrugs with a nod in agreement. He drops the towel on the desk and lifts one of the corners to reveal the electric razor inside.

“Okay. Here’s as good a place as any, I suppose.” You rise from your seat, close the laptop, and move it to your dresser.

“You sure? We can go to the bathroom.” He thumbs at the door.

You wave a hand at the chair you vacated, now standing behind it. “Here’s good.”

Dean sits. The wooden chair creaks.

“Towel.”

Dean grabs the razor before passing the towel. You flap the fabric, channel your inner toreador, and let it billow over Dean’s frame like a sail. When it settles, you wrap and tuck it into the back of the collar.

Moments like this are pure indulgence. Getting within close proximity of Dean years ago left your brain unable to process the simplest tasks. Breathing. Blinking. Talking. Eventually, you got a handle on your senses. Now, you could treat yourself to the experience of him on occasion in a myriad of ways. No one had to be the wiser that the mundane helped create many fantasies.

“Razor.”

Dean chuckles, presenting you with the razor over his shoulder. “It’s not surgery.”

“Hey, appreciate the seriousness with which I’m embracing this endeavor.” You step to his left. “Dean?”

He lifts his head to peer up from under the brim of his cap. “Yeah?” His blinks emphasize the question.

All that does is force you to focus on his pretty lashes and the eye color he’s daring you to try and describe in your head. The cheekbones and the manicured five o’clock shadow aren’t helping matters either. You swallow and remember what’s supposed to happen next. “Can’t do much with that hat on your head.”

“Oh. Right.” He sighs. “Just, no laughing, alright?”

You place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze softly in confirmation. “No laughing. Promise.”

Dean exhales. You suck in your lips and hold your breath. He closes his eyes and peels the cap off.

You stare dumbfounded.

“Say whatever you gotta say,” Dean mumbles with scrunched features and shut lids.

Your vision clouds. Heart races. “It’s…”

“Awful,” he interrupts.

“Perfect,” you whisper.

Eyes open at the word. His gaze shoots up to meet yours. “Huh?”

Gone are the 90s dreamboat bangs he’s been growing out and tending to since 2020. In their place are a couple of directionless inches that need gel after the scrubbing, clipping, and hat matting. The Musca goo must have done most of its damage around the sides and back. In those areas, he’s shaved it short and close, done his best to fashion a fade that you imagine was muscle memory for him even after all these years. You eye the spot at the base of his skull that needs to be cleaned and tapered.  

You’re blinking, fighting back tears, utterly speechless.

Dean stares, total confusion lining his face. “Are you crying? Why the hell are you crying?” He taps the top of his head. “Shit… is it that fucking of a fiasco?”

“No.” You cover your mouth at the possibility a nervous laugh might spill out, which will only irritate him further. Moments pass as you struggle to steady your breath.

“Well, what the hell is it then?”

Dropping the hand covering your mouth, you beam down at him. “It’s you.” You could care less about what you were supposed to do with the razor in your hand. Instead, you perch your ass against the desk so you can lean back and take him in.

Dean’s eyes widen. You’ve seen that look of concern many times. “Yeeaaah. It’s me. Who else would it be? Do I need to get Sam?”

Your head shakes in amazement at the vision. “I haven’t seen this Dean since… damn, since before the pandemic. Since you and Sam made that bet, remember?”

“Gonna have to be a little more specific. Sam and I make lots of bets.”

“The one about you being unable to resist the temptation to take a razor to your hair during lockdown. I don’t even remember what the stakes were.”

Dean contemplates. “Hm. I haven’t got a clue. That was like, what, four years ago.” His lids shade the dark green of his irises. “This Dean?”

You nod. Your breath hitches at the swell of emotions rising. “The guy I first met.”

Dean shifts in the chair and leans forward. Every furrow and crinkle on his face melts away. His eyes appear to double in size as he waits for you to continue.

“My hero.” The whisper is a physical manifestation of how vulnerable and exposed you feel at Dean’s silent interrogation method. You press on. “The one that risked his life to save me… forever ago.”

He lifts one side of his mouth in a lopsided grin. “Sam was there, too, you know.”

You laugh. Cheeks warm at the adorably smug reaction. “Yes, you’re right. He was.”

Dean shakes his head. “Sam’s had the exact same haircut for years. I don’t see you crying every time you lay eyes on him. He’s a walking reminder of the guy you first met.”

“But he’s not you.” In your haste to provide an explanation, you realize you’ve said too much.

Dean’s mouth opens a fraction. His brows downturn. He’s working it out in his head in real-time.

You’re terrified.

A new smile forms. You think you spot a blush on his cheeks. “What else do you remember about this Dean?”

You shrug and tear your gaze from his. You don’t want your words to betray you again.

“Hm.” Dean rambles off a laundry list. “A lot of brooding back then, wasn’t there? I was a really good brooder. Hard to figure out? Distant, too, right? Definitely knew what was best for everybody. Stubborn jackass.”

You remain silent.

“Okay, still a stubborn jackass.”

You giggle. He joins in with a chuckle. Your anxiety eases and you find courage to look at him again.

“We’ve all changed in different ways, I guess. You, for example.” Dean gestures in your direction.

You stiffen. This could go many ways. You aren’t ready for any of them.

“You don’t take any of my shit, for one.” He raises a finger. “You're confident. You speak your mind. You have a life outside of these bunker walls.” Four fingers are on display for a while. He smiles and elongates his thumb. “But you still make this your home.”

“Every second of the life I’m able to live is because of you guys. I owe you everything. I’m lucky you let me make this my home.” You reason.

Dean’s smile drops. The open palm clenches into a fist and rests on his thigh. “You don’t owe us anything.”

“You and Sam did all that for me without batting an eye. You didn’t expect anything in return. You and Sam gave me so much more than I could ever repay. You gave me a second chance. You gave me a home.” You shrug and smile. “You became my home.”

He studies the floor and smirks, stating more to himself, “Not the only long-standing bet I’ve lost to Sam today.” Dean inhales and sits tall, focusing back on you. He nods, slow and calculated. “So, perfect, huh?” 

You roll your eyes. “Don’t get a big head.”

“A little late for that.” He grins and reclines back. “Would you go so far as to say this Dean” – he sweeps his hands in front of his figure in a dramatic gesture – “is irresistible?”

You exhale. “I don’t know if I’d say irresistible.”

He licks his lips. “Whew. Well, that’s good. I mean, otherwise, you’d have the same problem I have.”

You drop the razor on the desk and cross your hands over your chest. “What problem would that be?”

A heated gaze, beginning at your socked feet, rakes over you with his answer. “How much I find every fucking thing about you irresistible. You could shave your head and wear a potato sack, and I’d still have to keep my feelings in check.” You're practically on fire by the time his eyes lock with yours. “Every goddamn second of every day I’m around you.”

“This would be one of those times I don’t take any of your shit,” you scoff and squint back.

It’s his turn to clutch his hand to his chest. “You think I’m lying?”

“I think you’re having a little too much fun at the expense of my soul-baring.”

“Wanna bet?” 

Dean’s voiced that question countless times. Tonight, though, certainty laces his words.

He seems to take your silence as the only needed response. “Kiss me.”

“Wh-hat?”

“If you think you can resist, kiss me, and it’s a one-and-done.” His brows lift. “But if you can’t… Well, I might not leave this room anytime soon.”

“That doesn’t sound like a wager. More like a dare.” You straighten your stance. “Besides, you’re assuming…”

He grumbles out an interruption, “Sounds like somebody’s stalling.”

Your mouth snaps shut.

“Maybe we both take the armor off for a night. Take a chance on something that could be awesome.” Dean posits. His hands rub the cloth atop his thighs. “I can make it awesome.” The tone is low and promising. “If it helps, I’m this Dean tonight. We can worry about that Dean tomorrow.” He smiles, reaches a hand out to you, and nods in encouragement.

He’s struggling to play it cool, keep his emotions in check. You’ve seen this Dean before. He’s inhaling and exhaling fast through his nose. His jaw clenches and it cracks your resolve even further.

You drop your shield and let this Dean win you over. 

You melt, wrapping your fingers over his. This Dean’s touch electrifies every cell and awakens every dormant hope you had put to rest. He tugs you into his space. His lead forces the parting of your legs in order for his thigh to slot between. You hover. Your chin drops to your chest while his chin tips up high to hold your gaze. His body heat pulses off him like a vibrational energy. “Kiss me.” It’s the sweetest and softest request you’ve ever heard this Dean utter.

Your fingers trace along the freshly shaved hair over his right ear. It’s slippery and smooth in one direction, scritch-scratchy in the other. You can study every battle scar on this handsome canvas. No bangs of curtains or overgrown beard can hide them from you now. 

His lips part and release a deep sigh. Your fingers slip down his neck. Warm hands rest on the curve of your hips.

“I won’t be able to resist you,” you whisper.

“Good,” he hums. He’s guiding you with a firm grip to straddle his thigh. Then, there’s an encouraging push with a large palm and splayed fingers against the middle of your back. The sweet smell of coconut hits. Your gaze zones onto that bowed top lip. The way the plump bottom one parts from it to grant entrance.

Dean huffs an impatient groan you are all too familiar with. “You don’t kiss me in the next five seconds, I’m gonna kiss you.”

“Is that supposed to be some kind of threat?” you tease.

“More like a warning.” His voice is gruff and deep.

You hold back a moan at the sound, then dip down and do as you’re told.

Everything about the kiss is eager and rushed. Together you’re a tangle of limbs and fever pitch need. You’re pressed tight and right to his body - all muscle-tense and trigger-ready. His lips respond in kind to your every brush, swipe, and nudge for more and more.

“Gonna take such good care of you,” he murmurs through the kiss.

You gasp in satisfaction at the intention. 

His lips skim to your jaw, under your ear, then down your neck. “I gotta know that’s what you want.”

“Yes, Dean.”

Another hum thrums against your skin. You shiver as fingers creep under the hem of your t-shirt. His nose nuzzles along the frayed v-neck collar. He cups your breasts under the fabric. A thumb and finger twists one of your nipples even more erect. Teeth scraping and tongue lapping over the other fabric-covered nipple draw a strained moan out of your throat.

Soon the shirt is tugged hastily over your head for removal. Then you feel his mouth and hands all over your breasts again, unencumbered.

You’re a panting, heaving mess riding his thigh like you’re on an X-rated carousel. You arch your chest into his face. He’s slurping and sucking your nerve endings into the stratosphere. He pops a tit out of his mouth long enough to order, “Yeah, come for me so I can fuck that nice wet pussy.”

Dean staring at you, commanding you to come for him, is the tipping point you need to orgasm hard and fast.

“Yeah.” He grabs a fistful of your hair and clamps his mouth to yours. “Gonna feel so good around my cock.” He steals every gasp of air you expel with his inhales.

You’re tingling all over. He peels you off his thigh to sandwich his standing body to yours. He towers over you. He’s stiff and erect in his sweats, pressed into your lower tummy. His hands sweep up and down the channel of your spine.

“This Dean’s got a lot to make up for.” His tongue licks at your lips. “But I gotta be inside you right now.”

You nod. “You got five seconds to get me naked and on that bed.”

Never let it be said that Dean Winchester is not up for a challenge.

The chair behind him is now careening towards the bedroom door on all four legs. You scream-giggle as he lifts you into the air while he twirls, then tosses you onto the mattress, bouncing at the impact.

The sound of the chair crashing and toppling into a corner does nothing to distract you from watching Dean tunnel out of his t-shirt, kick off his slippers, and hopscotch out of his pants and boxers. His hard, thick cock springs to attention.

Fuck. You want every inch of that deep inside you.

He hooks his fingers onto the hem of your pants and manages to pull your socks off along with them. Kneeing onto the bed, he croons, “Been wanting you for so long, baby.”

Your head falls back into the cushion of the mattress, woozy from Dean’s actions and confession. “Probably been wanting you longer.”

Your panties are off and tossed over his shoulder next. “You don’t gotta wait anymore.” He grips under your knees and drags you to him. He slides over the wet heat of your folds and hisses, “Wanna fuck you without a condom.”

You whimper, “Just fuck me already.”

He smiles, grabs his cock – that must be fitted with a pussy homing device – and pistons into your entrance without any further mother fucking ado.

You gasp at the searing heat and sharp pain of him stretching you open. But he doesn’t stop fucking you. He’s minding how your facial features accept the brunt of each thrust and the agonizing slow release of his cock. Over and over. His descent is just as slow as he fucks. But eventually, your legs clamp around his waist and he wraps you in an embrace. Chests plastered together, moaning into each other’s mouths.

Your fingers inch into what remains of his bangs. You pull at the hair and Dean groans out, “Yeah.”

It’s lovely and languid for however long you both have the patience. The feel of him everywhere and inside is something you don’t ever want to end. But there’s a second orgasm building. The thought of Dean spilling into you has your walls clench in impatience around his cock.

“Fuck,” he grunts, face tucked along your neck. You lift your head up to enjoy the view of his undulating back and curvy ass clenching and raising as his fucking gains momentum. You pull at his hair again. “Fuuuck.”

He stills, turns to stone, and you feel his cock pulse and warmth spill inside. Moments later, a hand wedges between your bodies to thumb your clit and trigger your second orgasm.

You cry out his name.

“I got you, baby,” Dean whispers into your ear. And he does. Not letting go and practically swaddling you with his body. The sexiest weighted blanket on the planet.

You smile and stroke – instead of pulling – at his hair. “Who’s got me exactly? This Dean or That Dean?”

He sighs, sounding winded. “You get all the versions. Whether you like it or not.”

“I’d like that very much.”

He leans back to stare at you. “Yeah?” He’s red and flushed and the happiest you’ve ever seen him. “Even if I grow my hair out again?”

You nod. “Yeah. More for me to pull.”

Dean groans and flops to his back beside you, chuckling.

You listen to the rhythm of your collective breathing slow down and regulate. His fingers brush along the flesh of your thigh. “Dean?”

“Hm?”

“Earlier, you said something about losing two bets to Sam today. What was the other one?”

“Asshole told me you had a thing for me years ago. Let’s hold off on telling him he was right, or I’m doing his laundry for an entire year.”

“I don’t think we have to tell him anything, Dean. I’m pretty sure he heard everything.”

“Hm. You’re right.” He’s up on an elbow, staring down at you. “Maybe text him that code thing? That might get him out of the bunker for a while.”

You blink. “Code?”

“Don’t play coy now.” Dean shakes his head. “But what’s the ‘66’ mean?”

You bite your lip.

He waits.

“It was Sam’s idea.”

He waits.

“The 66 Seals.” 

Dean cringes.

You shrug. “Too soon?”

“And he says I have a twisted sense of humor.” Dean yawns. He finds the edge of the comforter you both are lying atop and tosses it over your naked bodies. “So, will you still clean me up in the back? Maybe wait until morning, though?”

“Absolutely.” You snuggle into his chest, secure that Dean will wake up next to you in the morning. “If you don’t look good, we don’t look good.”

It takes a beat before Dean responds with a teasing smack to the back of your head, followed by a kiss on your forehead. “Wiseass.”

[kaitohateblog]

Goretober Days 13-16: Insides

Content Warnings: Murder, Robot Gore (with human traits), Blood

“And… cut! That’s the last take! Everyone let’s wrap it all up and get going!”

Once the director finished, everyone rushed to clean up the set. The video for this song was particularly morbid, but a fun shooting for Gackpo. A couple of crew members helped him out of the bathtub of fake blood and to his dressing room. He peeled the soaked button down and slacks off, heavy with synthetic blood. His hair was drenched as well, but that would have to wait until he could shower. For now, he would clean off as much as possible and head home.

His phone lit up with the sound of bamboo dropping in a deer scare. Someone texted him. He tied his hair back, then checked his messages.

Hey, you still at the set? I saw Kaito earlier >_\&lt;

I have this really fun idea !!

Gackpo had a mischievous glint in his eyes as he texted back.

im in my dressing room

tell me rn

He didn’t have to wait long for Una’s response.

Ok, you know how you used an axe in that song? You told me after filming the other day that it was real.

So… what if we. used it. for real ?

LMAO u want me to kill him with it ?

YESS! Exactly!!! It’ll probably scare him since you’re already covered in (fake) blood ^_^

is he still at school ?

yeah, but I could get Miku to talk to him if we need.

yayayay ok ill be there soon

Everyone was still busy cleaning up the set, so they wouldn’t notice Gackpo taking a few things. He changed into a spare costume (it was so annoying getting the blood out of his uniform last time), buttoned the shirt to the top, then slipped out to the props room. There weren’t a bunch of consequences to vocal synths using weapons since injuries could be fixed with a respawn, so the one he used in filming was a real axe. It wasn’t too heavy either, and the department did well with decorating.

After saying goodbye to the crew, Gackpo walked back to school. It wasn’t far from the studio, only 5 or 6 minutes. After all, all of the music videos filmed there were for fellow synthloids. He waved to Gumi and Lily as he walked through the gates. The school was emptying out now, but Una’s voice could be heard over the chatter of students heading home.

On the second floor he saw Kaito’s head, teal twintails, and the top of a bright blue horned hat above the dwindling sea of students. Gackpo ducked into the Kaito Hate Club Clubroom and pulled his phone out to text Una.

haiiiii

im in the clubroom. i will hide behind the door ˸P

Oki doki ;}

Even from inside the clubroom he could hear Una say goodbye to Miku. Una whined about something, then two sets of feet approached.

“Come on! You have to see this!”

“Okay… but I’m not sure about this.”

Una slid the door open, tugged Kaito in, and slid the door closed again.

As if on cue, Gackpo emerged from the shadows and raised the axe. Kaito turned at the last second in horror before the blade crashed down onto him.

The axe went through Kaito’s body, splitting it cleanly in half. In the onslaught, blood sprayed around the room. Now, the blood pooled at the floor and the innards of the two halves were free to see.

The fresh muscle tissue was tender, intertwined with silver wires and multicolored cables. Open veins stained opaline bones with crimson as the blood drained from the still-warm body. His organs were mainly intact, save the cut through the center. If synthloid bodies didn’t despawn after a few hours, the carcass would have been a fine source of grisly samples.

The slice through the brain exposed the internal matter and wires that strung the body together. It was a faded pink, though it too was dyed red with the blood that flowed around it. If Gackpo missed and hit the heart instead, there would have been a chance Kaito could still see through his eyes before he respawned. The damage to the head cut the wires, cutting off his brain activity and vision with it.

His heart beat a few moments before it stopped. It was a duller grey than the wires, more of a brushed steel, but now as useless as the fried cables connected to it. It was a gruesome sight, but after some time the only thing left would be the bloodstains. The blood would be gone after a week at most though— it was just as synthetic as the blood Gackpo sat in earlier.

Una giggled and shook her arms with glee. “That was amazing! Smack in the center!” they shouted. Gackpo wiped the sweat from his brow and laid the axe against a desk stacked with anti-Kaito posters. He smiled as he admired his handiwork.

Kaito would be respawning any minute now, and it wouldn’t be too long until he ended up on the floor of the clubroom again. Another tally for the club’s Kaito Kill Counter.

[havnblog]

My Tech Setup

I’ll make separate posts for my software and bass guitar setups, but here’s my current tech hardware setup.

The overview. Details incoming!

MacBook Pro

My Mac is the center of it all — and I’m living the laptop-desktop lyfe.

Now, there are many things I like about living in Norway. And one of them, is that we’ve mandated by law that things like computers needs to have a 5-year warranty(ish). And this also applies to second-hand owners! So buying used Apple gear, is great here — and that’s how I bought my MacBook Pro when it was 10 months old.

It’s a 14-inch M1 Pro base model, with 512 GB of storage and 16 GB of RAM.

I do have to be mindful of the storage, and occasionally, I push the RAM. But it still works tremendously. I’ve never been this happy with a computer before.

Did you notice the Macbook in the previous image?

Apple Studio Display

Yes, it’s too expensive — but no, it’s not the same as just having a 4k screen. **And look at everything that happens when I connect one Thunderbolt cable to my Mac! **👇🏻

Power to the Mac

Power to the Xiaomi Mi Monitor Light 🖇️ (Website)

Laneware Macro-1

Laneware LW-67 keyboard

Both with Less but better keycaps and

Boba U4 switches (U4Ts in the large buttons).

Lightning cable for the Apple Magic Trackpad

Universal Audio Volt 2 🖇️ (Website)

PreSonus Eris E3.5 🖇️ (Website)

Grado SR125 (I don’t have X, though) 🖇️ (Website)

Røde NT-USB Mini 🖇️ (Website)

I just love that I can unplug one cable, and just take my laptop home with me.

When I had this at my home office, I also connected ethernet to the spare port, a mouse in the USB-A hub, and some more stuff.

I've tilted the trackpad (and its wrist rest), to improve the ergonomics. I should probably get a split keyboard as well...

Makes it easier to connect both my headphones and speakers to the Mac, and I also use it for bass rehearsel and recording, and for testing pedal boards. Fastened with Dual Lock.

The mic and monitors are fine - nothing more, nothing less. But very practical!

These sound great! Especially with Crinacle's EQ preset set through . Tons of leakage, though.

Desk accessories

The wool desk mat was custom ordered (to me previous, tiny, desk) from this Etsy store. The, equally custom, wrist rests are from this Etsy store.

I almost never need a wallet - so Apple's MagSafe wallet is perfect. The Moleskin notebook is just as under used.

The iPad and headphones stand is IKEA’s (very cheap) Havrehoj. I like it a lot!

iPad

I have the iPad Pro 11-inch from 2018 (the first with the flat sides), with LTE and 256 GB of storage. I also bought this used — in 2019, and it still works well (even though I’m starting to notice that it’s 5.5 years old, with the occasional slowdown). I’m one of those who loves having LTE — as it’s so nice to never having to worry about internet connection. I also used it as my «whiteboard» when I was a teacher — and could just switch to LTE if the school’s network was struggling. 1

I also have the Apple Pencil and Magic Keyboard, which I like.

iPhone

Not in the first image, as it took it.

I’m a noted Mini iPhone enjoyer, and my iPhone 13 Mini (in Midnight) has worked perfectly since the day I got it. It fixed all the issues of the 12 Mini, and is a top-tier iPhone IMO.

Here are some things I’ll say ’til the day I die (and will fight everyone who disagrees with 💪🏻):

The ordinary (potential) Mini buyer is on a long update cycle, and has also bought SE phones. So when the SE got updated half a year before the 12 Mini’s release, many of those had recently bought a phone — and this hurt the sales.

The 15 Plus phone also «flopped», but doesn’t get nearly the same amount of flak!

The lineup with the 13 Mini, 13, 13 Pro and 13 Pro Max was the perfect lineup. Apple should be able to include a mini phone in their trillion dollar pipeline anyway. I don’t have particularly small hands (I just like to be able to use my phone one-handed), but many people do and should be well-served as well.

Here’s to hoping the next SE is a Mini. 🤞🏻 (But I doubt it. And, my next phone is probably a Pro for the cameras anyway…)

I also have the first gen AirPods Pro. I really like them, but I’ve had some troubles with them, and had to return them a couple of times. Luckily, there’s the whole government mandated warranty — so even though I bought them in 2019, I got brand-new ones (for free) as late as the fall of 2023. 🙌🏻

No, it’s far from as nice to just share from your phone. ↩︎

[leam1983]

Transitions

So. As I eluded to in my previous post, things are shaping up, apartment-wise. The loft we'd initially eyed isn't in the cards, but I used my two weeks to snoop around with Walt. We found ourself a quasi-penthouse-grade apartment a few streets away from the one we'd looked at, and made an offer. Split between the three of us, we're looking at about one thou a month. We'd put all our expenses on the same account and just divvy up bills as per our responsibilities. I've taken everything related to cable access, power and phone plans, Sarah will handle groceries and everything associated with basic upkeep costs, and Walt is the defacto rent-payer after we'll have forwarded him our shares.

It's interesting, honestly. Not giving an address, obviously, but I'll be in a corner of town that used to house a hospital, that was quickly industrialized in the fifties and that is now again beginning to house residential developments like mine. It'll put us about twenty minutes by car from the Gay Quarter, and maybe half an hour from the most remote of the dealerships we directly interface with. Full concrete floors and ceilings, concrete partitions between units - and the common areas were as quiet as a tomb. There's an interior yard accessible to all tenants, fully furnished and ready.

The one downside? There's something like an HOA involved. It's extraordinarily lax, in that typically Montreal-based way local HOAs tend to be, and the only real rule they have in place involves no barbecues being allowed in the common yard. We have small balconies, with three rooms and two of them having balcony access, with the right to smoke on the street-facing one. Still, it does mean that we're likely to have one or two bourgeois or Karen-grade neighbours.

Otherwise, the perks I can expect include a keyfob-operated elevator, an interior gym and a fully-furnished waiting area, for when I'll need to take the paratransport. There's a YMCA two bus stops away, so going out for swims remains possible. Walt's car gets a closed garage, which is also accessible by elevator. Zero steps whatsoever.

I'll definitely miss the Quarter's neighbourly feel, though. We knew our grocers by their first names, we were on good terms with everyone, safe for the bigger family I mentioned earlier this summer, and we were mostly shielded from homophobia by virtue of living in a corner of town where there's probably one Rainbow sign every two or three front doors. We're headed back into Straightsville, so to speak - but this is still Montreal. As in, it's still an extremely open-minded environment, just with its occasional homophobes fishing for attention. No biggie, overall.

I remember the look Walt sent me once he realized we'd be effectively entombed in concrete. The look started with vague surprise, followed by realization - and his hooking my hand at his elbow, unprompted.

He'd figured it out. Wall-to-wall concrete means that while we won't get the benefits of being at the top of the building, we'll have stellar sound insulation. Considering how one of our neighbours supposedly plays her Casio keyboard at Fake Pipe Organ settings at full volume at all hours of the day and night and nobody's apparently complained, that means we can expect to be able to let loose on Friday afternoons even louder than we already do, without inconveniencing anyone...

I remember giving Walt a look once we'd returned to his car.

"You dog," I teased him, "I know exactly what you thought about when the landlord brought up the unit separations."

He'd shrugged. "I might be gay, I'm still just a man. Can't blame me if my brain drops down between my legs on occasion."

I'll concede to being a little worried, though. My current landlords are my parents, this'll be the first time I won't have even the slightest bit of housing-related preferrential treatment. I mean, safe for the fact that the landlord told me he'd get the unit's bathroom all prepped up for me before our arrival - by which they meant they'd just screw in one basic support bar and redo a few squares of the bath's tiling, as required by said bar.

We'd headed to the restaurant last Thursday, to celebrate, and Sarah had parted with a mean chuckle while toasting us. "With zero thanks to Provincial disability aid programs!"

Honestly, fuck 'em. Last I checked, they'd lumped me in with coke-heads and vagrants looking for a way off the street, somewhere fast, noisy, cramped and cheap. If I ever take to hard drugs, I'll know exactly where to look...

[talentless-mess]

ⓒalvabear94

This is a Kaisoo analysis, again! I just made one yesterday (you can check it out because that Kaisoo moment hit me all the soft spots), and doing another now. This is not healthy, at all… And I’m half conscious so perhaps this is not really coherent…

First off, I wanna say many thanks to Alvabear94 for her amazing JI and Kaisoo videos. If you haven’t followed her Instagram, please do or you’ll miss out on many awesome vids!

Now, I wanna make a (not so) brief analysis on the Shyness of JI and KS at the last part of this vid.

This is super duper obvious that JI was a lot bit flustered when they all did that kneeling move and he met KS’s gaze. He all but blinked and averted his eyes (JI practically turned his head from left to right, shying away from making eye-contact with KS) and then reverted his eyes back to KS’s back again. (Could you be more obvious, Nini??)

But, the thing I found extremely interesting here is that KS immediately turned his head away too (Very subtle, Mr. Do!). I was wondering Why? Why after all those years living and working and falling in love with each other, they were still acting like they just met and got to know each other and flushed while being caught stealing glances (like they were just new in this relationship lmao).

And the most interesting thing is that when the kneeling move ended, all the members got to stand up, KS for a moment turned around again and smiled (that’s too obvious that he was smiling with his cheekbone rising even when the angle blocked most of his face). Why did he suddenly smile? What did he smile at? Who did he smile to?

So my sorry head used all the rare neurons that it possesses to over analyze everything, again. I’m not able to read KS’ mind whatsoever, so my next hypothesized monologue is just plainly based on what I think KS’ facial expressions were showing.

At first when he knelt down and caught JI’s gaze, he abruptly turned away because “Holy fck, our eyes locked. I’m so embarrassed. What should I do? Turn away, turn the fck away now.”

And then he just nervously stared at JD’s neck and back (it even looked like he almost lost balance while finding a right spot on the ground to put his palm on to gain support. Holy shit, I’m like over observing and commenting on every trivial stuff lol). And he was looking like considering something in his pretty little head. Probably he was thinking “Maybe I should give JI a smile when we stand up. Maybe a smile can make things less awkward from that flustering eyes locked (and just because it’s JI, he deserves all my pretty heart heart-shaped smiles lol).”

So he did just so. Given by how high his cheekbone rose, I bet he was smiling his face into half. So bad JI didn’t get a chance to see it or else he would be in ninth cloud and we could have a lot of Kaisoo smiling at each other pics now .

But when he realized that JI wasn’t looking in his direction anymore, he turned his face to other side and his smile faded and he looked extremely disheartened. Poor thing I just wanna hug the hell out of him. And when he walked to another spot on the stage, he even looked like heaving a sigh of disappointment.

I just really love it when KS can keep his emotions at bay, but it’s just so endearing to watch his getting all flustered around JI even though most of the time it’s JI who has his heart on his sleeve.

So that’s it. That’s all. That’s just a lame analysis and I bet most of you watching the vid can already see it. But I just have a lot of free time now, which makes me wanna rambling a lot. (sorry not sorry)

[kindahoping4forever]

Feedback // Ashton Irwin

I've been sitting on this fic for a minute so thank you to everyone who's patiently waited for me to post it (shoutout to Sly)! This story was really just me getting inspired and clowning after Ashton's "Down To Earth" IG stream back in April. As always, thanks to @cal-puddies for the invaluable guidance as I tried to pare my writing style down into a pwp format (try being the operative word, 3500 words is still the best we could do lmao).

Warnings: Distracted Boyfriend!Ash, oral sex on a male, moderately rough unprotected sex (on the red leather couch) including mild dirty talk, brief choking and a spank or two.

Word Count: 3535

Masterlist // Ko-Fi and New 2021 Taglist linked above

Let  me  know  what  you  think!

"Baby! I didn't know you were home!"

You turn around to see Ashton in the doorway of the bedroom, voice as cheerful as the yellow beanie covering his head.

"Didn't hear you come in," he comments, walking over to you.

You slide your arms around your boyfriend’s neck with a sigh. "Rushed up here, phone was about two seconds from shutting off," you explain, greeting him with a tender kiss.

He watches as you kick off your shoes and yank your bra off under your shirt, tossing everything haphazardly in the direction of the closet before flinging yourself on the bed. "Tough day?"

You groan, dragging your hands over your face before extending your arms, encouraging him to join you. “Eh, not great and very long,” you report, giving a satisfied sigh when Ash climbs on the bed and immediately pulls you on top of him, wrapping his arms around you tightly. You do the same and the both of you lay quietly in this prone embrace for several peaceful moments before you break the silence. “How about you, how was your day?”

You feel him shrug under your body. “Can’t complain,” is his simple reply.

“Make anything cool?” You prompt, knowing he’s being low-key because he thinks you need to chill out, not realizing nothing relaxes you more than listening to him talk about his passions.

“Hmm… anything cool...” Ash giggles, hugging you closer. “I dunno, got a good start goin’ on this one track that could be pretty cool, got a nice vibe.”

You raise your head up to look at him and scratch your fingers across his beard, you’re so glad he decided to let it grow again. “Yeah? Tell me more.”

He hums as you continue to rub his face. “Only been at it for a couple hours, ‘s just a track for now, we’ll see what I can do with it,” he breezes, moving your hand from his face to his mouth so he can kiss it.

“Well, whenever you feel like you need a fresh pair of ears, I’d love to hear it,” you enthuse, moving to lay at his side.

He turns to give you a bright grin. “Yeah? A little in-house focus group?” He teases, leaning in for a sweet kiss that starts to get needy the longer it goes on.

You pull off his hat, running your fingers through his long hair as he moves to kiss along your neck. “Don’t know if you know this but I’m a big fan of your work,” you tease back.

He kisses your lips again, biting a bit as he pulls away to quip, “We talking ‘bout my music or something else?”

You giggle, deciding that indulging this frisky mood is exactly how you would like to unwind tonight. You inch closer, pulling him back into a kiss and he responds eagerly, hand coming up to massage at the base of your neck like it always does. For the next few minutes, the only thoughts in your mind revolve around Ashton, how he feels, how he tastes and where you need his mouth or hands on you next.

When you let out a moan at the way his fingers are gripping your skin under your shirt and he doesn’t press himself against you in response, you can tell he’s gotten distracted. You laugh knowingly against his lips, “You’re back to thinking about that song now, aren’t you?”

He looks at you with a sheepish smile. “I was actually still workin’ and came up here just to grab a hoodie when I found you.”

You playfully push him off of you, shaking your head. “Dude, you should’ve told me! You know I’m not one to fuck with The Process,” you admonish, scrunching your nose up at the trail of kisses he pecks over your face as he sits up.

“Nah, my brain needed a break and my girl needed me, it worked out perfectly,” he insists, rubbing your arm affectionately before getting off the bed.

He quickly fishes his desired sweatshirt out of the closet and pulls it on over his t-shirt, mussing his hair even more than you already had. He walks back over, ready to kiss you goodbye when you sit up on your knees to stop him. “I was serious about giving it a listen if ya want,” you say, smoothing his hair down before resting your hands on top of his inside his hoodie pocket. “If you’re not ready that’s fine but just FYI I‘m interested.”

Ash grins at you, squeezing your hands before using them to pull you to your feet. “Aww, you know you’re my fave audience, baby,” he gushes, reaching to grab his hat off the bed. “Let’s go give it a spin.”

“Well. As much as you can ‘spin’ a computer file,” you mutter, trying to annoy him just because it’s fun.

As you head for the door, you hear him snort behind you a split second before he grabs you, sliding his beanie on your head far enough to cover your eyes; you burst into giggles as he playfully bumps into you, passing you in the hallway. “Smart ass,” he grumbles, voice still smiling.

Ash makes it down to the basement first and starts clicking on files and flicking switches, excited to play his work for you. You stop at the foot of the stairs and survey the room with wonder. Multiple guitars - electric, acoustic, bass, 12-string - are strewn across the room, cables run from his computer to the adjacent room where he houses his drums, food delivery containers line the coffee table; he’s clearly been down here since you left this morning.

While he sets up, you make yourself useful, setting the guitars back in their racks, stacking the food trash; when you’re done, you start to drag a chair over to the computer when you notice he’s staring at you like you’ve grown an extra head.

“What are ya mad at me or somethin’?” He scoffs, patting his legs and looking at you expectantly.

You smirk and take a seat in his lap, watching closely as his long fingers fly over the keyboard, hand adeptly working the mouse, making a few final adjustments to the track. You hear a quiet “there we go” under his breath and then he’s settling in, pulling you back against him and rubbing over your thighs as you wait for the song to begin.

It’s a simple demo so far - layered background vocals, drum and bass, some synth, a little guitar line here and there - but he’s right, it’s definitely a vibe. You’re pleased that his reflection is visible in the computer screen, you love seeing him grooving behind you, pursing his lips and nodding his head along to the beat as you feel his fingers tapping along on your waist while he holds you close.

The track is short and before he can even ask your opinion, you tell him to play it again; his face lights up at your request and he proudly complies. When it finishes this time, you shift to look at him and smile. “That’s wild you did that all yourself and in such a short amount of time,” you marvel. “See, I was right, you did do something cool.”

Ashton laughs, kissing the side of your head as he leans forward to reach the keyboard. “You think so? Well, what’s really cool is this…” He starts clicking around again, isolating the different elements and revealing which sounds are electronic and which are live instruments, which section he thinks he’ll write lyrics over tomorrow, where he’s thinking of pasting in more guitar.

You respond when appropriate but mostly you just listen intently, watching fondly as he animatedly details his thought process; this is why you offered to come down here with him, this is the best part about being his “fave audience.” You love his music but more than that, you love how much he loves his music.

He stops mid-explanation of a section to tinker with it, clearly having a brainstorm right in front of you. You curl into his chest, observing quietly as he cycles through effects and begins stacking tracks. He chews his lip, deep in thought as he lets the song play again and you can't help but press a few kisses to his jaw.

Ash continues his work and you continue yours, moving from his jaw to his neck; your kisses eventually become more heated, with you adding tongue and even teeth to the equation. You suck his earlobe into your mouth, wiggling his earring with the tip of your tongue and finally he pulls away, chuckling, "Baby, come on."

You shrug, playing with his hair. "I just love watching you work."

He laughs, "Then goddamn, baby, let me work!" He growls as you nip at his throat and you smile to yourself because you can tell he's already rethinking his request.

"Seems like you shoulda thought about this before you invited a girl down to your basement to listen to some dreamy space pop alien makeout jam," you tease, relishing the feeling of his laughter vibrating his throat under your tongue.

"Can I get you to leave that review when this goes up on iTunes?" He cracks, finally turning his attention to you.

"I might be persuaded," you flirt, humming with victory as he pulls you into a hungry kiss.

Ashton wastes no time returning the affection you showed him, lips devouring yours, hands quickly making their way under your shirt to lazily massage your tits. You’re mid-moan, his fingers just about to make it inside your waistband when suddenly he’s pulling away.

It takes you a beat to realize what’s happened, your body confused by the sudden absence of his touch. You open your eyes to see him busy at the computer again and it’s so absurd to you, you have to laugh.

“Two minutes,” he says half-apologetically, half-distracted, squeezing your thigh but not taking his eyes off the screen.

You smirk to yourself, immediately aware of what your next move is. “Take as long as you need, baby. When genius strikes, you gotta go for it,” you state ominously, not that he notices. Nor does he notice you sliding yourself off his lap and onto the floor between his legs.

You run your hands up and down his thick thighs before letting your touch wander to the front of his jeans, palming over his crotch, happy to find that at least part of him was interested in your makeout session. You can’t decide if you’re more amused or annoyed by his focus but it’s not until your hand is on his cock, freeing him from his pants that he tears himself away from his project.

“Excuse me, ma’am, can I help you with something?”

You lock eyes with him as you stick your tongue out and dramatically lick your hand, coating your palm with saliva before giving his cock a tight squeeze and beginning to stroke him steadily. “I also had a genius idea I was just following through on,” you shrug. “Might take a little longer than two minutes, though, I’m a bit out of practice… my boyfriend’s been pretty busy.”

Ash giggles wildly, both at your joke and your audacity. “You’re crazy, I’m literally about to be done with… fuck…” His retort is interrupted by you, eyes still trained on his, licking long stripes up the sides of his cock, sucking gently at the head before licking your way back down.

“Go ahead and finish your work, baby, I’ll just keep busy until you’re done,” you insist, mischief in your eyes as you look up one last time before taking him into your mouth.

You hear a sharp inhale, a softly chuckled “fuckin’ ridiculous” and then finally, mouse clicks as he attempts to get back to it. You do your best to distract him, bobbing up and down enthusiastically, sucking loudly, humming around him, making sure he knows how much you’re enjoying your task.

It only takes a minute or so for him to get sidetracked by your efforts. “This is a shitty home demo I’ve spent all of 90 minutes on, there’s no way it’s so good you just had to have my cock right here and now,” he insists, struggling to keep his voice steady, not wanting you to hear how affected he is.

You pop off, gingerly playing with his balls as you zing back, “I dunno babe, you guys had plenty of shitty songs on your first album and from what I’ve heard, you did more than alright in the pussy department.”

Ashton’s laughter quickly turns to a strained moan as you slide back down on him, letting him hit the back of your throat. “My bad, didn’t realize I’d shacked up with a groupie,” he jokes. You silently congratulate yourself as you notice him flexing his hand into a fist, knowing he’s trying to keep himself from pressing down on your head.

You pull off him again, making sure to let the spit cascade from your mouth as you smugly reply, “Like I said before: big fan.” Before he can even think about responding, your mouth is back on him.

You’re not surprised he attempts to resume working again; you’re both stubborn, it’s a wonder anything ever gets resolved in your relationship. You can tell he’s trying his best to stay on task but the whispered curses under his breath give him away. As a last resort, he turns the volume on his speaker up a few more notches, hoping the track will drown out the exaggerated choking sounds you’re intent on making.

A few moments later, he reaches down and yanks his beanie off your head. “Fuckin’ bright yellow bouncing over my crotch is hard to ignore,” he grumbles. “All I see is my hat, looks like I’m suckin’ my own dick for all I know.”

You can’t resist continuing to rib him. “How is that not your greatest fantasy? Your favorite person giving you your favorite pleasure?”

He snorts, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, did you want to blow me or roast me?”

You give him your brightest smile and reply, “Unlike you, I’m pretty good at multi-tasking.”

A brief cackle and a clipped “alright” are all you hear before you’re being hoisted up off the ground, thrown over Ash’s shoulder and carried over to the couch across the room. You squeal with surprise and delight as he unceremoniously dumps you on it, briskly strips you both of your clothes and promptly bends you over the red leather.

He nudges your knees further apart, pressing you against the back of the couch. “Of course you’re this fuckin’ wet already,” he teases, breath hot on your neck as he runs himself through your folds. “You think that’s from my cock down your throat or from you winding me up so much?”

Whatever clever comeback you’d thought up dies on the tip of your tongue because suddenly he’s sliding his cock inside you and now that’s all you can care about. You whine as he quickly establishes a vigorous pace, one hand bracing himself against the couch, the other reaching around you, down your torso to reach your clit. “How’s this for multi-tasking?”

A few breathless cries of his name are the best you can manage as he relentlessly plays with you, somehow in perfect rhythm with his rough thrusts, sending your whole body into sensory overload.

“Or how ‘bout this?” He growls, moving his hand from between your legs to your throat, fingers offering just the slightest amount of pressure, knowing it’ll drive you crazy wondering if and when he’ll add more. “Don’t got any more funny jokes for me, baby?”

You moan at his taunting, placing a hand on top of his on your neck, trying to get him to squeeze harder; he refuses and his denial makes you moan even louder. "Jesus, Ash," you pant, pushing back against him to egg him on. “Feels so fucking good.”

You're so caught up that you don't even notice his song is still playing over the speakers until a few moments later when Ashton suddenly pulls out of you, muttering to himself as he grabs the remote from the coffee table and shuts the music off.

Confused, you look back and see him amusedly shaking his head. "Yes, I was still producing that in my head, don’t start," he giggles.

You fall back on the couch, laughing in disbelief. “We’ve gotta get you some hobbies, buddy, that’s insane.”

He snickers, laying you on your back and settling on the couch behind you, pulling your leg over his hip. “I don’t think fucking you counts as a hobby,” he jokes, gripping his cock and slipping it back inside you.

“Not with that attitude,” you quip, a little more breathlessly than you meant to but with how slowly Ash is rocking into you, you can’t help it.

You tilt towards him, angling yourself to pull his mouth down to yours; you’re feeling overwhelmed and you need him close. His tongue traces over your lips, his kiss the familiar reassurance you need in this moment. “Ash…” You whimper quietly, closing your eyes and savoring the feel of his beard grazing your skin.

“I know, baby, me too,” he soothes, cradling you tighter against him. His hips begin to pick up speed and his hand moves to knead your breasts and tug at your nipples before travelling further down.

Ashton rubs slow, tight circles on your clit, stopping to give your thigh a light smack when you start raising your hips a little too eagerly, bucking up in an attempt to get him to move at a speed more to your liking. You moan first at the realization that he’s going to keep teasing you like this and then again, louder, at the sharp slap of his palm that once again comes down on your skin.

“You’ve got a nice tone tonight, baby, I should get you to lay down some vocals for this track,” he jokes, choking back a moan of his own when your surprised laughter causes you to clench around his length.

You chuckle smugly at him, “Not so funny all of a sudden, huh?”

You feel yourself getting closer so you start rolling your hips along with his, murmuring at the feeling of him deep inside you; you grind against his hand playing between your legs and as he finally amps up the pace, your release becomes closer and closer to reality. Your breathing syncs with his in a needy, staccato rhythm that wouldn’t have sounded out of place in his song.

“Is this what you wanted?” He huffs out. Typically when he asks you that while he’s buried in you, there’s a tone of arrogance or punishment behind it but right now as he holds you, your sounds continuing to meld together, it couldn’t feel farther from that.

“Yes, Ash, god yes…” you breathe, reaching to hold onto him as your orgasm overtakes you.

Ashton keeps driving his cock inside you, whining slightly at the feeling of you pulsing around him. You cry out, not realizing how loud or long your moans are until you hear his voice in your ear, gently lulling you back down.

He’s still moving inside you, hips beginning to stutter and when you hear his breath catch, you know he’s there. You tuck yourself into him, cooing, “Come on, Ash... fill me up, babe.” Three strokes later and he’s pumping his cum inside you, gasping your name. He slows his movements, heavy breath underscored by a contented hum as you caress his bearded cheek.

He leans in and kisses you passionately, completely enveloping you, possibly your favorite feeling in the world. He exhales loudly and keeps holding you, kissing over your face tenderly.

You giggle as he indulges for a moment before reluctantly pulling away, reaching for the takeout napkins on the coffee table; he attentively cleans you up and quickly settles back onto the couch, pulling you on top of him.

You lay together, blissed out, while you play with the necklace hanging down on his chest and he strokes over your hair.

“Hey, sorry I gave you such a hard time,” you smile. “Didn’t realize how much I wanted your attention until I didn’t have it anymore.”

He looks at you, amused. “Honestly didn’t notice you acting any differently.”

You jab his side. “Also sorry I talked shit about your first album, I do actually like it quite a bit.”

Ash cackles, tracing designs on your back. “Oh good, I was worried that was going to be what finally drives us apart,” he cracks.

You snicker, nuzzling your head into his chest. You enjoy a few quiet moments together before he begins softly humming an unfamiliar melody and you smile, knowing his creative wheels are turning again.

You lift your head up again to offer one last apology. “I’m sorry I once again disrupted The Process.”

Ashton laughs mischievously, running his hands down your body. “I mean… overall I’d say this was some pretty valuable feedback.”

————-

Thank you to everyone who has signed up for the taglist, both for the support and the lovely (occasionally hilarious) feedback! If you haven’t signed up yet, the form is linked above! (If you signed up and your name is crossed out or not listed, I was unable to tag you, please check your blog settings and either re-sign up or send me a message letting me know you allow mentions now) @notinthesameguey @cxddlyash @2fangirl4u @cashtonasfuck @talkfastromance4 @itjustkindahappenedreally @saywhatnow07 @mymindwide @suchalonelysunflower @pxrxmoore @findingliam-o @fedorable-killjoys @trix-arent-for-kids @olivia-foster-irwin @saphseoul @calmsweetcreature @onthecliffside-mgc @feliznavidaddycal @himbohood @maggiesupertramp @wiiildflowerrr @karajaynetoday @ashtonangst @sunshineeashton @aladyofalbion @youngblood199456 @xsongbirdx @loveroflrh @fairytrice @calumrose @irwindoll @polycashton @in-superbloom

[astaroth1357]

The Obey Me Cast on a Camping Trip (Part One: Brothers)

Hey guys, thank you sooo much for getting me to 2,000 followers!! I honestly don’t know what to say... I never dreamed that this little hobby of mine would reach so many eyes, and I can’t be more grateful. At a time in my life where things feel so chaotic and uncertain, being a part of this community and sharing my weird ideas has been what’s kept me going. It’s been such a rewarding experience all around, so thank you. From the bottom of my heart. 😊

I pulled out all the stops for this post. I even brought out one of my favorite songs of all time: Ao to Natsu by Mrs. GREEN APPLE to get the feel juuust right. I hope you all enjoy it!

This post is split in two due to length (I had too much fun again...) For the Undateables, please click HERE!

Intro:

Another day, another team building activity between the demons and the exchange students. It was Diavolo’s idea to go on a camping trip to the human world (because of course it was), and there were very… mixed responses. That sentiment wasn’t helped when he refused Lucifer’s insistent pleas to just purchase cabins for everyone to stay in. Oh no, the Demon Lord wanted to rough it out in the wilderness, and now everyone else was getting dragged along with him…

Wonder how that turned out?

Lucifer

Really, really, really tried to push Diavolo to just rent out cabins in but noooo, he wasn’t having it... So he ended up driving a van crammed with his brothers, the MC, and a butt-ton of camping equipment into the Alaskan wilderness… 

The car ride itself was insufferable… We’re talking, “I SWEAR I WILL TURN THIS CAR AROUND!!” level of antics every 10 miles or so (mostly from Mammon)…

Setting up camp was even more of a nightmare because about half of his brothers were utterly useless. The other half (save Satan) were completely clueless… Had it not been for Barbatos and Satan he probably would have just resigned himself to the mercy of the river’s currents and let it take him away…

He couldn’t even wear his usual clothes because of the situation… For the first time in who knows how many centuries, he was stuck wearing jeans… Diavolo even bought him several plaid shirts... (which he was not happy with btw because his brother wouldn’t stop making fun of the “new” him)

He had his own tent of decent-size, enough to move around in but nothing to write home about. The very fact he didn’t have to share was a luxury in itself, so he took it for what it was worth...

He spent a good portion of the trip focused on two things: keeping Diavolo happy and everybody else alive. He rarely left camp unless forced to; he just wanted to get it all over with as soon as possible…

If he did leave, it was because Diavolo would drag him along to fish or hike. He was... less than pleased to be called out of his tent at the crack of dawn or well past dusk to sit on a little rented fishing boat with Diavolo… but he didn’t exactly pick his friends so...

He rates the trip Too Much Trouble/10. Let’s never do it again.

Mammon

Wasn’t a massive fan of being stuck out in the wild, but Satan told him some made-up bullshit about buried treasure out in the forest and got him HOOKED. He even borrowed stole a whole bunch of mining/digging equipment just for the occasion!

He spent most of the car ride asking, “Are we there yet??” like a child. The MC had to step in to keep Lucifer from leaving him on the side of the road at multiple points during the journey... 

He was one of the utterly useless ones when it came to setting up camp. Someone charged him with putting up the twin’s tent, and he spent thirty minutes reading (then re-reading) the instructions while shouting expletives. Poor Simeon had to shield Luke from the vulgarity…

He has to share a tent with Levi, which neither of them liked. Mammon mainly because of Levi’s “old fish stink” and Levi because he feared catching “Mammon’s stupid.”

He was all jazzed up to go digging from Day One, though. He’d have breakfast, grab his shovel, then wander out into the middle of nowhere to go dig holes in the ground…

He also got completely lost on Day One, and it took the MC summoning him with their pact to return him to the group... By that time, he was filthy and somehow looked like he had been castaway for days (even though he was gone for like, three hours?)

When he stubbornly refused to stop digging, Lucifer resorted to just tying a rope around his ankle and letting him loose. It was up to Mammon to get back to camp before dinner, or else Lucifer would yank him back like he was on a leash.

Satan waited until the last day to finally tell Mammon the treasure was bullshit, and he was PISSED. He even threw Satan into the river, which resulted in the rest of the brothers joining in for a swim while the two tried to “playfully” drown each other.

He’d rate this trip 0/10 because he didn’t get any buried treasure. What a ripoff…

Leviathan

Hated the idea with a burning, seething passion. There’s no internet, cable, electricity, or phone signal out in the middle of nowhere! How the heck is an otaku supposed to survive?!

He clung to his electronics during the car ride until either they ran out of signal or their battery died, then he didn’t know what to do with himself… He resorted to reading several volumes of the manga he stuffed into his bag and clung to the MC for emotional support…

Yet another useless soul trying to put the camp together. He was in charge of his and Mammon’s tent but ended up almost crying in frustration… How the hell do humans do this all on their own?? Wasn’t he supposed to be the third strongest?! Why is he so pathetic?!? 😫

Hates sharing a tent with Mammon because he always wakes up to the second born encroaching on his space somehow… Poor baby is pretty much directly against the tent wall and STILL has to deal with legs and elbows in his side... 😰

Spends the majority of the trip moping in the tent... If he goes out there, he has to deal with the sun, bugs, and people… No thanks. He only leaves for meals and occasionally to go swimming. 

When he found out part of the way through that Barbs brought portable solar panels and a battery pack for Diavolo and Lucifer’s phones, he was livid. He demanded access to the power source, which Lucifer refused because “It would defeat the purpose of this trip.”

He’d have summoned Lotan right then and there, deadass in the middle of the forest, if the MC hadn’t intervened. He then went back to moping, but now at the bottom of the lake and it took a lot of coaxing to get him back out…

On the final day, he was packing up the camp before anyone else even woke up. He wanted OUT and back to civilization ASAP. Bedroom here he comes!

Satan

You wouldn’t think of Satan as an outdoorsy guy. Still, he has shades of a survivalist in him (mostly because he’s read a lot of guides and was looking for an excuse to use them for a loooong time).

He read for the majority of the ride. He was squished between Asmo and Levi, which was reasonably peaceful. But he did end up shouting at Mammon quite a bit towards the end because “NO, we’re not there yet, peabrain!!”

He actually wasn’t a waste of space when setting up the camp, and between him, Barbs, and Lucifer, they were able to get a lot of stuff set up before sundown. He did have to bark a few orders to the others here and there, but overall competency won out in the end.

He shared a tent with Asmo, and the two made it work well enough… Except when Asmo did things like spraying his perfumes and dry shampoos, making it practically impossible to breathe in for a few minutes…

Spent a lot of the first few days reinforcing the camp to a ridiculous degree.

Did he have to collect large branches to build an exterior fence around the campsite? No. But he did.

Did he have to set up a water distillation system using some of the materials Barbs had lying around the “kitchen?” No. But he did.

Did he have to weave a series of fishing nets to catch them lunch from the lake and river? I think you get the point by now.

Only once he built pretty much every contraption or improvement he could think of, did he go back to just reading and relaxing by the fire.

By the time the group was ready to leave, Satan had somehow managed to craft them a veritable, self-sustaining fortress in the middle of the Alaskan wilds…

Overall he would rate the trip as… meh. Next time give him a challenge like a deserted island or an actual desert, and then he’ll really see what he can do.

Asmodeus

Was about as unhappy with the idea as Levi was… It wasn’t that he disliked the outdoors per se, it was just that no one, NO ONE, pulls off looking flawless after several days stuck in a tent!

He chatted the entire car ride from start to finish. He never stopped talking. It made for decent background noise at least…

Was one of the more clueless ones when trying to set up camp and pretty just did what he was ordered. The second he was left to try and figure something out on his own, he went to Lucifer or Satan for help because NOPE. Human equipment is needlessly complicated sometimes…

He had to share a tent with Satan, which in theory shouldn’t have been that bad, but Satan was out basically all day in the sun doing who knows what and would always come back sweaty and gross! At some points, he had to chase his brother out of the tent until he dunked himself in the river or something. No way was Asmo sleeping next to that. 😤

Asmo took the second-longest to get up and get ready in the morning. Sometimes he wouldn’t even leave the tent until well past breakfast just in an attempt to salvage his hair and skin… He only got grouchier about it as the trip went on… 😥

A more… earthy looking Asmo is kind of a bizarre sight. He’s still attractive, no doubt, but it’s less like polished glamour and more like Hollywood humble. He spent the majority of the trip looking like a somewhat dirtied movie-star (which he still insisted was the worst he’s ever looked in ages).

Aside from salvaging his looks, he actually enjoyed taking pictures of their surroundings or of the group (but not himself). He sometimes forgot how genuinely breathtaking the human world could be…

….but his patience for the place wore out quickly once he started noticing his hair getting greasy. He was right next to Levi, packing up the site once it was finally time to leave. At least those two finally found something they could agree on, let’s get the fuck out already! 

Beelzebub

He was really curious about trying camping food and pretty excited that Barbatos was coming, too (because that meant great food in general).

Unfortunately, Lucifer had to stop the van at basically every gas station they passed for Beel could refill on snacks… Belphie ended up getting buried in wrappers pretty often, but he was asleep, so it didn’t matter much.

Beel did a lot of the heavy lifting when setting the camp up, but the finer details were left up to everybody else. He had his hands full getting stuff off the cars as is…

Of course, he shared a tent with Belphie, and there wasn’t much complaint between them. Honestly, there would have been more drama if they were split, so this was the better option.

After the MC told Beel about fishing and how it could net him more food, if he did it right, he knew exactly what he wanted to do during the trip.

… But no one told him how long and slow the process would be. There were points he’d get so hungry he’d consider eating the bait himself…

That was until about Day Three of the trip when they passed by a river full of grizzly bears… He was about to ask the MC why the bears were all standing in the water, but then he saw a fish practically leap directly into one’s mouth…

Beel had discovered his true calling.

Of course, the grizzlies didn’t take too kindly to a demon suddenly sprinting into the water with them. They tried to fight him off, but Beel just tossed most of them downstream without any issue until they realized who the apex predator really was…

After forming a shaky truce with the bears, Beel would stand in the water for hours then come back with whole baskets full of salmon… There were far more fish than Barbatos knew what to do with, so he’d just confiscate a few then let Beel eat the rest...

The MC shuddered to think about what Beel had done to the local salmon population… But he was full and happy for most of the trip, so he had a great time!

Belphegor

Sleep for him isn’t too contingent on location, so the idea of camping wasn’t terrible. It did sound like a lot of hassle for no good reason, though…

He spent the entire car ride asleep, head and cow pillow pressed up against the window and everything. It wasn’t the most comfortable experience, but he’d dealt with worse.

He was utterly useless when putting up the camp by choice, thank you. He had more than enough sense to get things put together; he just didn’t want to. If he wasn’t asked to do something by Beel or the MC, he’d just lay back in the grass and smugly watch everybody else struggle…

Again, he and Beel are in the same tent, and you wouldn’t hear any complaints out of him. He did start to have some second thoughts when Beel began getting a fishy smell, though, so he tried to bunk with the MC in their tent for a while.

Like Levi, Belphie didn’t leave the tent much during the daylight hours, but that was because he was still asleep… There was no good way to wake him with no alarms available, so he’d sleep in past lunch easily.

When he was awake, he didn’t leave camp very much except to walk with the MC or watch Beel fishing grizzly-style.

Eventually, Asmo and Diavolo got sick of him dodging their photos, so they’d started posing him Weekend at Bernie’s style around the camp (always conveniently propped up by something and with sunglasses on)

Something Belphie did like, however, was the nighttime. Since there were no lights around, he could practically see everything the sky had to offer. He could spend hours laying on his back long after everyone else had gone to bed just admiring the stars.

All in all, not a terrible trip. Anything that could give him that view like that was well worth it. 6/10, would sleep again.

Click HERE for Part Two. Check out my Masterlist for more!

[whump-a-la-mode]

For Your Own Good

I’ve seen a lot of stuff about bad caretakers floating around recently, and I really love the trope, so I tried my hand at it. I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Whumpee soon finds out that their safehouse may be little more than another prison.

CW//Bad caretaker, collars, shackles, being cut off from the outside world, stolen phones, controlled internet access, attempted gaslighting

“You’re safe here.”

The words were soft, whispered into the ear of a Whumpee who could hardly believe them. They were out, they were free. And they would never have to be scared again.

Caretaker used their elbow to close the door behind them, their hands thoroughly occupied by the half-limp person they carried bridal style. With a gentle motion, they laid them upon a couch, a hand stroking softly through matted hair.

“No one is ever going to hurt you. Never again. I promise.”

For the first time in so, so long, Whumpee allowed themself to relax. To truly, genuinely relax. They were safe. Whumper was gone.

Everything was okay again.

They felt like weeping.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

The room was empty.

Mostly, at the very least, though it was decorated by a floor of thin carpeting, and a few pieces of stray furniture.

Whumpee leaned on Caretaker as they stepped through the door, scarred legs unable to support their own weight.

“You can stay here, for the night.” Caretaker murmured. “I know it’s not much, but it would be too suspicious, having two bedrooms. We can’t let anyone know you’re here. I’m sorry. It’s for your own safety. I’ll try to get a mattress or something for you, when it’s safe.”

They nodded in understanding, trying to ignore just how familiar it felt, to be left in a room, small and dark and forgotten. Remembered only when a certain Whumper needed to blow off a bit of steam. Or, if they were feeling particularly cruel, flame.

“Thank you.” Whumpee nodded. As Caretaker left the room, they retired to the space they had been used to occupying for so long-- curled up in the corner of an oubliette.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

It was a knock on the door that stirred Whumpee awake. Pins and needles flowed through their limbs as they unfolded themself from the corner. For a split second, adrenaline overtook their veins, instinctual terror wondering which torture implement would be brought for them, this time.

Instead, the door opened to a plate of food, in Caretaker’s hands. It was still warm-- when was the last time they had had a warm meal?

“I think it’s safer if you eat in here.” They hummed. “There’s a window in the dining room-- if you can call it that. It’s just where the table is. I don’t want anyone seeing you. It’s safe in here, no windows.”

Whumpee nodded, giving a thankful smile as the food was placed in front of them. A hot meal. A safe place to sleep.

They could stay here forever.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Caretaker?”

Whumpee knocked on the door again-- the door to Caretaker’s office. They could feel their shoulders tense, even just being here. In their month of residence, they had grown so used to their room. It was cozy. It was safe. It was where they belonged.

“Yes, Whumpee?”

They hated being out of it like this, but...

“Can I come in?”

“Of course.”

Doing their very best to hide any residual shaking in their hands, Whumpee pushed through the door, into the room, where their guardian sat, poring over piles of paper and pens. They approached the side of the desk, noting that the scrawling of pencils on paper did not cease, even so.

“I was just wondering, um-,” Whumpee began. “I was wondering if the Internet is working for you? It’s been down for me for a few hours.” They held up their phone, waving. They couldn’t believe Caretaker’s kindness, how long had it been since they’d had a phone? “I can try to reset the router...”

“The internet is fine.” Caretaker shook their head. “It’s your phone.”

“My phone?”

“Do you know how easy it is to track a phone? I didn’t even think about it, getting it for you.”

“I don’t...”

“I disabled the internet, on there. It’s not going to be able to connect. It’s for your own safety. If that device ever got connected to you, you could be tracked in an instant. Whumper could find you.”

Oh. Of course.

For their own safety. They had been foolish, to think using the internet so freely would be safe.

“I got a TV for you. I’ll put it in your room when it gets here.”

“Thank you.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The next time Whumpee needed Caretaker, they did not leave their room. They did not want to risk such a thing. Instead, they waited until that familiar knock came, heralding dinnertime. Not that it was easy to keep track of such a thing-- only a week after disabling the internet on their phone, Caretaker had taken the device away altogether. Too unsafe. Too easy to track.

For their own safety.

The door opened, bringing with it the smell of warm food. It was a smell that threatened to make Whumpee sick to their stomach.

They were grateful for the food. Of course they were, they should have relished in the delight of being given a warm meal, instead of scraps. But, eating the same thing, twice a day for over a month...

Even though they knew it was a terrible thought to have, they would have rather starved than eat the same thing again. But they would eat it. Caretaker would come in in an hour, to make sure.

“Thank you.” Whumpee nodded as the sickly-smelling plate was placed on the floor before them.

“Of course.”

“There’s, um, the TV had been really nice. Thank you so much.”

“If it makes you happy, I’m glad to have got it.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Um, I was wondering if you could take a look at it? I’m not really a tech person... It’s not working right. It has recordings, but it won’t connect to any live channels. Says there’s no connection. Maybe a cable is-”

“Oh, it’s supposed to be like that.”

“It is?”

“Of course it is. TV channels, you never know what could be on them. They broadcast all kinds of scary things, and we both know how sensitive you are. I don’t want you to get scared when I’m not around to help.”

“Oh.”

“So, it has recordings. I’ve watched them myself. They’re all safe, I promise.”

“Thank you.” That time, it was not genuine. They bit their lip.

“Of course. For your own safety, Whumpee.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?! How stupid?!”

Whumpee flinched at the scream, not having even had time to close the door into the home. They took a step back, wincing as a gust of wind slammed the door closed on its own.

Caretaker’s face was red, fuming, just like...

“I-”

“I don’t want an explanation. You know going out like that is dangerous! In here, I can guarantee your safety. There’s no one out there to protect you.”

“I know.” Whumpee snapped. “Please, I just went into town for a few hours. I haven’t been out in so long...”

“Because being out like that is dangerous.”

“I don’t care. Maybe I want it to be. Maybe I’m willing to risk danger if it means having a life!”

Caretaker bit their lip, shaking their head.

“Your trauma is fogging up your mind, you can’t even think straight. That’s why you need me. Come here.”

Whumpee obeyed, without a second thought. From a table nearby, Caretaker plucked something, something-

Something round and leather and-

A collar.

The buckles screeched against the leather strap as the loop was fastened about Whumpee’s neck. The lock was small, but clearly too strong to break, and as Caretaker closed it, they put the key in a pocket.

“There. It’s just a tracker, so I’ll never have to worry about losing you. Never again. Now. It’s time for you to get back to your room.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

“I thought you would’ve learned.”

The sharp words cut the air as briskly as a whip.

“I didn’t realize just how bad your mind has gotten.”

Caretaker’s fingers looped under Whumpee’s collar, between leather and skin, dragging them forward. They tried to fight, tried to stop moving, but they were no match for their guardian’s strength. A simple tug on the leather loop was all it took to keep them moving again.

“I’m sorry about this. You have to know I’m sorry. But it’s the only way.”

They arrived at the door to Whumpee’s room. The lights had never worked, but they didn’t need to. When Caretaker opened the door, the inside was clear enough.

Five loops, installed into the wall. Five lengths of chain. Four shackles.

One for each wrist. One for each ankle. And one for their collar.

“It’s for your own good, honey. I promise.

[britishvamps]

Arranged

Prompt: None Fandom: Atiny (ATEEZ) Member: Jeong Yunho Warnings: Not really, underlying tones of sketchy deals, mention of a gun and knowledge of a crime family Word Count: 3,012 *Quick PSA: I cut it down but it's still over 3k words. This may be part of a series with the Ateez boys. This will have a series of its own and this is written for my black/POC girls 💜*

The day of your nineteenth birthday began pretty much like every typical day in your household. You were awoken at 7:30 am, went into the bathroom to have a shower. You sat back in front of your vanity, body and hair still wrapped in a towel as you moisturised your arms and legs when a knock on your door. “Come in.” You said, changing the song playing from your phone to Khalid’s ‘free spirit’ as your parents walked in. Behind them, an array of gifts were being carried in bags, and boxes followed them as they came up to hug you. “Happy birthday, sweetie.” Your mother spoke as she sat on your bed. “Happy birthday, pumpkin.” Your father whispered as he kissed your forehead before straightening out his suit and rushed back out, leaving you in your now packed room with your mother still sat on the bed. “Baby, get dressed and come meet your father and me downstairs in the dining room, okay. Dress cute.” She uttered as she arose and strutted out, her nude Louboutin heels clicking on the marble floor with each step she took before you heard the click of the door behind her.

Assuming it was another row of gifts, you dried your hair and quickly dressed in a long black flowy dress with gladiator sandals. Deciding to go semi-bare faced, you put on your lashes, did your eyebrows and put on your jewellery before you went downstairs. As you walked into the massive dining hall, one of the help came and placed a stack of hot, fluffy pancakes in front of you as two others place similar looking plates in front of your parents. “Eat up, baby. We have to go out soon to meet a few people.” Your father spoke as he skimmed over his paper whilst sipping his coffee, glancing at you as you placed a few strawberries on your plate and cut them into your pancakes. Giving a brief nod, you quickly dug in before rushing to your walk-in closet and grabbing your nude cardigan. Hopping down the stairs, your parents stood by the door with their entourage awaiting your arrival before you all bustled out and entered your respective cars. Your mother and father in one car with two guards in the front seats, you in another with three, and the rest split in two other similar looking sleek, black BMW X6′s before you set off to your location, still unknown to you. “So... where are we going, guys?” You quizzed your escorts after about 45 minutes of driving through the city, to which you got a short reply of “You’ll see when we arrive, Miss.” Rolling your eyes, you sat scrolling through the birthday wish messages from your social media as your friends posted photos from balls and events as well. “Well, seeing as nobody is going to say anything, I’m going to connect my phone to the aux.” You say as you unbuckle your seatbelt and lean forward to grab the thin black cable. Soon after, the music’s soft melodies were surrounding everyone in the car.

It was not until an hour or so later that you had begun slowing down in front of the great black gates that stood tall and proud in front of a large, pristine white coloured house. The bright green lawn and burgundy door stood out in comparison to its white canvas. As the gates to the unknown slowly opened, the silence in the area almost became deafening. It seemed virtually ghostly besides the hum of the engines that soon cut off as they reached their destination at the top of the driveway.

As you exited the vehicles, the once empty patio was now occupied by a single maid, much like Amanda. She stood, awaiting your ascent up the stairs. She leads you and your parents to a large room that could only describe what one might use for an exaggerated dinner party. On one side of the table stood a man, a woman who you assumed was his wife judging by her posture and clothing and a younger, taller male off on the side of the woman. Your mother and father walked towards them, beginning the greetings between them and the more youthful male shock their hands. Although confused, you shook their hands, bowing slightly to the younger male who seemed to have no interest in being in the same room as anyone who was actually in there already. “Hello, please sit. We have much to discuss.” The older man said, pointing towards the chairs as he took his place at the head of the table.

Confused, you remained stood up. “What is this? Where are we?” You quizzed, to which the younger male finally looked up at you, eyes curiously glancing over your figure as if trying to see if you were serious about your question or not. This gave you a chance to see him correctly and was he a sight to see. His face seemingly made by the gods themselves and his broad shoulders accentuated by his choice of suit. A grey check suit and white dress shirt with a deep black tie. “Sit (y/n). You will soon understand.” Your father’s voice spoke in a tone you haven’t heard from him before. Sitting opposite the younger male, you watched as another man, who you hadn’t noticed was even in the room, came and handed your father and the other older male a stack of papers, much like a contract. “Seriously, dad, we’re here to do business on my birthday.” You deadpanned, quite annoyed that the secrecy seemed only for another one of your father’s ‘business deals’.

“(y/n)...” Your mother started, before being cut off by your father. “(y/n), this is Mr and Mrs Jeong and their son Yunho.” As he spoke, he handed you the stack of papers as Mr Jeong handed his son a copy of your documents. Looking down at dark black ink that sat on the accumulation of white papers, sat your marriage contracts.

Thick, slabs of ivory paper perched on the deep black glass of the table, with the neatly written words staring back at you as it read ‘Legalised document of the union of the Jeong’s and the (y/l/n)’ s’. The thoughts swirling in your head were too loud as you looked up in horror, taking a glance around the table only to receive a sea of all blank faces. It became quickly apparent that you were the last one to know. Abruptly arising in anger, you practically flew out of the room, dismissing the yells of your parents and just when you had reached the door of the house, you were suddenly stopped by a sharp, curt pull on the arm, turning to be face to face with the beautiful individual who was previously sat opposite you. “I suggest you return on your own volition before I am forced to bring you back.” He spoke his face at much closer proximity than you had expected. Breathing heavily, you pulled your arm out of his hand before speaking. “If you think I am walking back into there so I can hear about how I am to get married to you on my nineteenth birthday, you, sir, have much more wrong with you than my parents do.”

As you opened the door, you were abruptly picked up and tossed over the shoulder of the man who you was to be your future husband. Screeching, you yelled to be let down, but your screams fell upon deaf ears as he walked you back into the dining room and set you down by the door before entering it and holding the door open for you to walk past. Huffing, you pushed your hair back and walked into the room, angrily throwing yourself into your chair as you listened to your parents plan the type of wedding they wanted you to have. Still angry, you zoned you into your thoughts, wondering what you possibly could’ve done in your past life to deserve such a treatment in which your own parents would ship you off to be wed to a man who, in the short hour you had known him, had already manhandled you and not left a good impression. “So, it is decided. The wedding will be in 6 months, and the two of you will be living together for that time. Get to know each other better.” Mr Jeong said, clapping his hands together as both sets of parents beamed at one another. “We will, of course, have to meet again to talk about the official taking over of my place once Yunho is wed, but until then, it seems we have a wedding to get through.” Mr Jeong finished as they all arose, shaking hands once more and to which you did not partake, just walking out. Upon entering your car, you locked the doors to ensure your parents wouldn’t try to speak to you.

“Where to, Miss (y/n)?” The driver asked, your guards back in their designated seats. “Anywhere but home. Make sure my parents don’t try to follow me.” You ordered, pulling your earphones out of your pocket and letting the lyrics of Billie Eilish consume you. It was not until two and a half hours later that you realised your destination. In this park, your parents used to take you as a child, before your father became too busy with his business to have your fortnightly picnic with you in that same park. Walking through the small, isolated area, you finally took a seat in what became your usual thinking spot. A large oak tree perched in front of the midsized artificial lake that sat in the middle of the field. Thinking back to the beginning of your day, even if you were given a thousand guesses, none would have been close to the events of today. At a mere 19 years of age, you got engaged and soon to be wed to a rude man you had known for only three long hours—a very handsome man, but a rude man nonetheless.

The sun was still shining brightly in the afternoon, but there was a clear breeze. You had been sat there for much longer than you had anticipated as your stomach grumbles, indicating that it was time to start heading back. Dreading the drive back, you slowly walked back towards the car where one of your guards, Eric, was holding a bag of takeout and a drink. “Figured you’d be hungry, Miss (y/n).” He smiles and hands you the food and drink before opening the car door, letting you slide in.

Two months had passed, and your parents had decided that it would be best to announce your engagement during one of your father’s trimonthly “fundraisers”. At this time, you and Yunho had only interacted when your parents and the Jeong’s visited and even then, the interactions were curt and almost business-like themselves. You slept in separate rooms and continued to live very individual lives; you, unaware of the back alley dealings and Yunho, preparing to take over his father’s “business.” All your friends were super excited that you were living with such a cute guy and started making plans to go wedding dress shopping but if only they knew the truth; that it was nothing more than a business deal.

You had to go shopping with Yunho for a matching dress and suit, both your parents joined making sure it was going well. You had entered another boutique, the employees running around trying to find a dress to match Yunho’s burgundy suit that he had seen almost instantaneously after visiting the first store, you, however, seemed to have no intentions to finding a dress, enjoying the complimentary champagne and strawberries you were getting served. “(y/n) you need to take this seriously. This is a good thing.” Your mum spoke, grabbing the champagne flute from your hand before pulling you up. In front of you was an assortment of dresses in the same colour as Yunho’s suit. Rolling your eyes, you ran your hands over the materials of the dresses, ranging from silk to velvet. You stopped at a silk dress with gold detailing, pulling it from the rack and holding it to your body. “Perfect choice, miss (y/n). This will look amazing on you.” The employee complimented. You walked into the changing area and put on the dress, instantly falling in love with the way it looked. You walked out to see your mum, and Yunho’s mum watches you in awe. “That’s the dress. You look beautiful, darling. This is the one.” Mrs Jeong spoke, signalling towards an employee. “Go get changed; I’ll go pay for this, and then we can get brunch and start discussing the wedding.” And just like that, the perfect moment came crashing down with reality.

A few weeks had passed, and it was the day of the ball. Everything was decorated to a T; the drinks fountains looked taller than you as they sat on the tables with filled champagne flutes roaming around as people started arriving. You and Yunho were in the study with your parents, receiving another lecture about acting like a couple. "Yunho, (y/n), please. Try acting more like a couple. Hold hands, maybe a kiss or something." His father sighed, watching the two of you practically glaring at one another from across the room. "I do not remember signing up for this." You groaned, seeing your parents glare at you before you stood up, trying to walk to the door. "(y/n) sit down. This marriage is for the best for the both of you." Your mother muttered, watching your every move. "The marriage is happening; the best thing you can do is try and make it as enjoyable as you can." Your father announced, ending the conversation as he put on his suit jacket, turning and nodding to Yunho before he began walking out. "I will do my part for tonight but do not expect me to act as if this was of my volition." You notified, pushing past him, the tail of your dress flowing behind you.

The party was in full swing when your parents had begun getting everyone's attention as they started announcing your betrothal. "Ladies and gentlemen. We have some exciting news. In a few months, my son will be getting married." Exclaimed Mr Jeong, receiving several cheers and claps from guests. With his hand out, Yunho walked towards where you and your parents were stood before taking your hand and placing a gorgeous diamond engagement ring on it. This caused an uproar of cheers, and he leant into you. "Keep this up, and one might think you actually like me." You whispered as you faked a smile, giving Yunho a quick side look before smiling back at the guests.

After you descended the stairs, your girlfriends began asking about 'the mysterious fiancee'. As if those words were his summoning, a hand snaked around your waist, causing you to force a smile as you looked up at him. "I heard I was being looked for." He smiled, planting a kiss on your temple. One would've actually believed you were a couple if they did not look too close. "Yes, girls, this is Yunho. Yunho, these are my best friends." Each of them not so subtly giving you approving looks as they shook his hand. "Pleasure. But I must steal away my beautiful fiancee." He charmed, to which they immediately sent you both off with a giggle and a wink. Yunho led you into a room in the back, immediately dropping his arm from your waist the second the door closed. "Why are we in here when the party and alcohol are out there?" You chided. Rolling his eyes, he unbuttoned his suit jacket. "We need to talk. You can't avoid me, so this the best place." He began, sitting in one of the chairs. "What do you know about your father's business?"

"He owns a few restaurants, some buildings and some shipping companies; I don't know. Why do you ask?" You quizzed, also sitting down. Yunho let out an incredulous laugh, leaning back. "Baby, that is far from the truth. Where we like it or not, we're going to be wed, so time to lay out a few truths. Our fathers are both the heads of two very powerful crime syndicates. Our marriage is an alliance to which we will both gain a lot. We may not see eye to eye, but you will be my wife, and I promise no harm will come your way." He said, staring at your face as it contorts to one of confusion and shock. Suddenly it was all making sense; the late-night work meetings, the cryptic conversations and the constant need to have guards. "I- This is crazy! It all kind of makes sense, but I can't be marrying a- a criminal." You rushed, standing up quickly. "Listen, I am telling you to warn you. We will never be 100% safe, and better you find out than during a situation that may involve me bringing my gun." He spoke as if this whole thing was normal. "Look, we can talk about this after the party. We disappear for too long, and people might think we're doing something, and we wouldn't want that now, would we love?" He smirked, straightening his suit before he sauntered out, leaving you stood in the room alone with your thoughts. Letting out a shocked laugh, you fixed your dress, faked a smile and walked back out to the enormous hall where Yunho was seemingly deep in conversation with your friends. You looked around, the news of your father's business partners not being as legit as they seem to change your perspective of each and every member in the room. Your father's head of management for his buildings and hotels you no longer regarded as your godfather; your driver no longer felt like he had just that one job.

Tag list: @helwegen @yunhobabygurl If anyone else wants to get tagged, please just message me or leave it below :)

[starsailorstories]

just some slightly Soft DT moments from the volume 3 draft

“What do you mean there’s no other way, of course there’s another way,” she says, in that neutral under-the-breath register she has for when her thoughts are on moving parts far from this room, this conversation. “The network points can operate underground, we can get them ships, we can start working with units from off-planet build crews maybe. There’s a thousand light years of blank space where nobody’s looking. We’ll split the Tropovoxia operations up, have them on a bunch of different sites so no one is ever a major vulnerability, we’ve learned our lessons there. Put Blue in something fast and quiet, she can get experts from one point to another on-demand, no need to wait for perfect timing like with a big rescue operation. I need to get on the phone--”

“DT,” Rugsy interrupts, forming the two letters of the nickname with the precision, the tenderness, of a child reciting an ancient abjad, meaning double-packed in every syllable. She puts her hand on her chest, suggests with her touch the sinking-back that follows, urgent motion crashing safely into the pillows. “You might still have to do all that, if this doesn’t work. But things like that take time. We don’t have time. You don’t have time.”

Dialtone looks up at her. With her eyes and with her hand--which curls around Rugsy’s like steam below her line of sight and makes her look down with her mouth half-open, as if it’s a lost button or an untied shoe--she makes her other argument, the one she can’t quite put in words. Rugsy hears it and rebuts: “DT, let us do this for them. Let us do this for you.”

-

Dialtone receives this answer with a skeptical lift of her chin. “Mm-hmm. Who did you lie to and how well? I don’t want anyone in trouble on my account.”

 Their only answer is to look up at her adoringly, hands clasped, in the most factory-standard unison and silence. “You’re all dangers to yourselves,” she says through an uncontainable spasm of affection. She contains what she can and turns to the window. “We have to win.”

-

She steps into the room and it is no longer just the room. Her old desk is set up, and her old lamp above it, the cables of the speakers and radio receiver looped just so, her pens and tea bottles arranged as she arranges them. At the side of the desk stand the ranks of junk-salvaged filing cabinets, waiting--empty, she guesses--for new records and receipts. Everything is just the way it was before the evacuations, with the exception of a note (folded and balanced in the curve of her headset) which reads WELCOME HOME, SENNETA.

“We were going to throw you an actual party,” Agenda remarks by way of a greeting, “but we thought that would just annoy you.”

“No, no,” Dialtone tries to say crisply, but somewhere between the first “no” and the second her voice wavers, just a little, with emotion. The two younger girls (though they look so grown up now, has it only been weeks?) each put an arm around her, and she lets it happen. “This is adequate.”

[deliquescentnightmare]

Easy Come, Easy Go- CH 4

~What's worse than nicotine? An annoyance.~

Delila braced her back against the wall to the left of the open door. She stood there for a small eternity before the silence was punctured with a tense exhale from inside. She took that as her cue to whip into view, eyes taking in the man stretched languidly on the couch, feet hanging off the end. The two made eye contact and Sherlock’s eyebrow raised.

“Oh. Hello I assumed you’d have a gun pointed at me sooner or later, but this must be a new record,” he stared at her, almost seeming amused, “We’ve only known each other for what? A half-day?”

“Where’s the danger?” She asked, narrowing her eyes as she looked about the messy apartment.

“I said it could be dangerous, not is,” Sherlock replied, “And I said that to John, not you.”

“There’s no danger, is there?” Delila asked, switching on the safety and reupholstering her gun with a sour look, “It’s all clear, John,” She called behind her and he limped into the doorway.

“What the hell are you doing?” He asked Sherlock

“Nicotine patch, helps me think,”

“Is that three patches?” Delila asked, or more so exclaimed.

“It’s a three patch problem,” came the reply and she simply rubbed her temples, as if fighting off a large migraine.

“John, do you mind if I get myself a glass of water? I feel like I’m going to have a headache at this rate,”

“Make yourself at home,” John said absentmindedly.

“Thank you,” Delila nodded and pulled off her coat, laying it on the back of a chair, vanishing into the kitchen.

“Why’d you bring her along?”

“We were supposed to be getting coffee,” John replied irately, “What did you need us for?”

“I only asked for you,” Sherlock remarked, nearly the textbook definition of melodrama, “Can I borrow your phone?”

“My...phone?” John stared at him as if he’d grown another head.

“Yes. I don't want to use mine; always a chance the number will be recognised, it’s on the website,”

“You called me here to borrow my phone?”

“Yes,”

“I was on the other side of London!” John explained, exasperation evident on his face. Sherlock merely rolled his eyes, as if John was the irrational one.

“There was no hurry,”

“So you need me to send a text,” John sighed, pulling his phone out of his pocket as Delila drifted back into the room, holding 3 glasses filled with water. She placed one each by the two other men in the room and sipped on hers thoughtfully as she loitered by the window, attempting to spy out the window inconspicuously. Of course, when one was with The Great Sherlock Holmes, nothing was ever inconspicuous.

“What’s wrong with you?” He asked almost immediately and she sent him a glance of something stuck between surprise and amusement.

“We happened to meet a...friend of yours,” She managed, hesitant through the statement, taking a long pull from her water. As if taking her cue, Sherlock swivelled to sit, startling at her remark.

“A friend?” he asked indignantly, reaching over to grab the glass and drink from it hesitantly.

“An enemy,” John added.

“Which one?”

“your arch-enemy, according to him,”

“...did he offer you money to spy on me?” Sherlock asked, voice hush and slightly rough as if it were some secret that the world couldn’t know. Delila turned to look at John in surprise.

“...yes,” John finally answered, visibly perturbed by the question and both sets of eyes on him.

“Did you take it?” Sherlock asked, and it was his turn to have two sets of shock-widened eyes set on him.

“What? No,”

“Pity, we could’ve split the fee,” Sherlock merely replied before casually chastising Delila, “Come on, Agent Lestrade, you really should’ve talked some sense into him,”

“She wasn’t there,” John supplied helpfully, drinking some of his water before realising how thirsty he was and downing the rest of it shortly thereafter.

“Ah, well if you do happen to meet him, I’d take the spying offer- it’s good money,” Sherlock said dismissively,

“Who is he?”

“The most dangerous man you’ve ever met, and not my problem right now. There’s a number on my desk. I need you to send a text,”

“A text?”

“Yes, to the number,” Sherlock directed, “Quickly,”

“Right,”

“So this is about her case?” Delila inquired, dropping the curtain after a beat, eyes raking over Sherlock curiously.

“Her case…” Sherlock mused absently, “Yes, her case. Of course, it’s about her case. The killer dropped her off, forgot she had it,”

“I assume you’ve figured out where it is?” She asked although they both knew she already had figured out the answer to that question. So, Sherlock simply disregarded her question and aimed his next statement at John.

“John, are you putting in the number?”

“Yes, hold on,” came the reply.

“Are you doing it? Have you done it?”

“Yeah- Just hold on!” John exclaimed and Sherlock looked like a miffed toddler, all wide eyes and melodramatic offence. Delila almost laughed at the man’s expression. Almost.

“Send this text exactly: What happened in Lauriston Gardens, I must’ve blacked out. 22 Northumberland Street. Please come,” Sherlock directed, finishing off his water.

“You blacked out?” John and Delila asked in unison, varying levels of concern written clearly upon their faces as if they were pages in a dictionary.

“What? No- No! Type the message and send it!” Sherlock leapt up, visibly agitated.

“What’s the address?”

“22 Northumberland Street!” Sherlock exclaimed as he snatched up the suitcase and Delila felt compelled to move to the couch. He dropped it into the seat of the desk chair and unzipped it while John simply stared at it in shock.

“That’s her case… that’s the pink lady’s case,”

“Yes, obviously,” Sherlock replied, voice practically dripping with self-satisfaction. His expression shifted, however at seeing the shock remaining on the man’s face as he quickly added, “I guess I should probably tell you: no, I didn’t kill her,”

“I never said you did,”

“Why not? Given the text I just had you send and the fact that I have her case, it’s a perfectly logical assumption,”

“Do people often assume you’re the murderer?” Delila asked, an amused sort of smile on her face.

“Now and then, yes,” Sherlock replied, hopping up onto the back of the chair, feet firmly planted in the seat. It was vaguely reminiscent of the way Delila contorted herself to curl her legs underneath her at odd angles on the couch.

“...okay,” John said, limping himself over to the other chair and sitting down, “And how did you get this?”

“By looking,” The answer was obvious, to Sherlock. To John, it was just another thing that was so very Sherlock that at first he was caught off guard. It didn’t take long for him to come to terms with the fact that this man; his likely flatmate, was simply bred this way. He was blunt, clever, and rather narcissistic.

“Where?” John asked, partially to indulge the curly-haired brunette, partially to satiate his own vaguely morbid curiosity.

“The killer must’ve driven her to Lauriston gardens, he could only keep this case by accident- forgot it was in the car- nobody could be seen with this case without drawing attention to themselves, especially not a man, which is statistically more likely. So obviously he would have felt compelled to get rid of it; it wouldn't have taken him more than five minutes to recognise his mistake. I checked every backstreet wide enough for a car five minutes from Lauriston gardens and anywhere someone could dispose of a bulky object without being observed. Took me less than an hour to find the right skip,”

“Right, what now?” Delila interjected and both John and Sherlock turned to look at her curiously.

“Skip? Large container for storing garbage?” John asked and Delila shook her head in vague displeasure.

“Dumpster? You British people and your weird lingo,” Delila scoffed, “Anyways, continue with your lecture, Professor Holmes,” she said pointedly, earning an unamused scoff from the man in question.

“You got all of that from the fact that the case would be pink?”

“Of course it had to be pink,” Delila answered, “What other colour would it be?”

“Of course, why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because you’re an idiot,” Sherlock replied. In response to the shocked expressions he gathered from the other two he sighed out, “Don’t be so offended, everyone is,” He pointed to the case, “Now look, do you see what’s missing?”

“From the case? How could I?” John remarked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Her phone?” Delila supplied pointing to the mesh zipper pouch on the inside lid of the case, “There’s a charging cable right there, and that sort of cable only goes to iPhones,”

“How do you know?” John asked, confused.

“I have one, obviously,” Delila replied.

“How do we know she had one?” John asked, looking like he wanted to rub his temples as Delila did upon their first entry to the flat.

“You just texted her number,” Sherlock remarked calmly.

“Maybe she left it at home?”

“She’s had a string of lovers and she’s careful about it; she’d never leave her phone at home if she could help it,”

“Wait, we’re- Wait, why did I just send that text?”

“Well, the real question is, where’s her phone now?”

“Did he just text a murderer?”

“Maybe she left it when she left her bag, maybe he took it from her for some reason, either way, the balance of probability is the murderer has her phone,”

“Sorry, did I just text a murderer?” John asked, looking mildly panicked, “What good will that do?” His question was punctuated with the ringing of a telephone- John’s telephone. Sherlock’s face barely contained his glee as he glanced at the phone, feigning calm.

“A few hours since his last victim -and now he’s got a text which can only be from her ... Now someone who'd just found the phone would ignore a text like that. But the murderer,” He stood, snapping the case closed and causing Delila to jump slightly, “Would panic,” He crossed the room and started to tug on his blazer.

“Have you talked to the police?” Delila asked, untangling herself from where she sat on the couch

“Four people are dead, there’s no time to talk to the police,” Sherlock dismissed her, not even sparing her a look.

“Can I just...call Dad? Just to let him know?” Delila pleaded and the tallest of the three let out a long, troubled sigh.

“Fine,” Sherlock allowed irately, huffing and pulling on his coat. Delila pulled hers from the back of the chair she’d rested it on and vanished. Sherlock turned back to what he was doing.

“If you can’t talk to the police, then why are you talking to us?”

“Mrs Hudson took my skull,” Sherlock mused sadly. John looked up to the mantle, and the skull was indeed missing.

“So we’re just filling in for your skull?”

“Relax, you’re doing fine,” Sherlock assured John, who simply looked at him with an expression of levelled shock and thinly veiled curiosity, “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Well, you could just sit here and watch telly” Sherlock twisted his scarf about his neck with a look that practically screamed holier-than-thou. John stood, uncertainty in his role written clearly across his face.

“You want me to come with you?”

“​​I prefer company when I go out - I think better aloud, and the skull just attracts attention,” Sherlock explained, pulling on his glove, “Problem?”

“Yes… it’s just that sergeant Donovan… she said you get off on this, you enjoy it,”

“And I said dangerous,” Sherlock stared down his nose at the shorter man, ghost of a smirk upon his face, “And here you are,” He chose then to vanish down the stairs, and John stared after him, openmouthed.

“Damnit,” John hissed, limping after him, face tightened into a grimace of pain and annoyance as he limped down the stairs.

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

[sxfterhearts]

39. [9:18 pm]

➳ pairing: jinyoung x reader

➳ genre/warnings: the usual dose of fluff, office romance!au, accountant!jinyoung & lawyer!reader

➳ word count: 1,078 words

➳ summary: 39. “I like your laugh.”

➳ author's note: this is purely self-indulgent cos jy is my emotional kpop support boy 🥰 plus the song is pretty and i miss writing fluff!! enjoy~

➳ listen to: new light by NIve ♬

A half-eaten piece of butter and sugar bread. An emptied mug decorated with lipstick marks and dried stains of coffee. An abandoned maroon scrunchie, Jinyoung’s favourite, especially when it was tangled within your curled locks. Papers, papers, and even more papers littered all over what was once the third-floor meeting room table. Bits and pieces of sticky notes and ‘Sign Here’ flags in every colour of the rainbow stood out amongst the monotonous documents, resembling flicks of watercolour on an artist’s canvas. A web of cables connecting your laptop to its second monitor and to the power outlet hung haphazardly on the very edge, threatening to fall off the table.

And there you lay, in the middle of what you would call an organised chaos, with your head resting on an outstretched forearm. Jinyoung could already picture how your face would scrunch up in discomfort when you woke up, triggered by the pins and needles in your limbs. With his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his slacks, he walked further inside for a closer inspection of you in your natural habitat – slumped over a desk, exhausted, and surrounded by the work you loved so dearly.

Ever since high school, Jinyoung preferred numbers and account balances and general ledgers over words and legislations and cases. That was your forte. He could never understand how you willingly stayed up to skim through mountains of case materials without developing a head-splitting migraine. His head would spin and his eyes would go out of focus at the mere sight of your work. Not understanding was not the same as not accepting, though. Sure, if an executive offered him a million dollars to switch places with you, he’d politely decline, but Jinyoung was nothing but supportive of your career from day one.

That’s love, isn’t it? Two people will undoubtedly have their differences, disagreements, and misunderstandings. What’s most important, however, is that these two lovers can come to accept and embrace each other with their entire being. Jinyoung sees it as him doing his thing and you doing your thing during the day, yet coming home to each other during the night. He sees it as him chopping the vegetables and slicing the meat, while you fire up the pan and stir-fry the ingredients. Sure, individually you could make something decent enough to satisfy your hunger, but together… Together, you could create a hearty meal, a labour of love.

Tempted, Jinyoung sat down beside you as quietly as possible and faced you, mirroring your posture. While the two of you worked in the same building, there was never much of a reason or excuse to visit the other during office hours other than the occasional lunch or office-wide gathering. The opportunity to just sit with you and watch you was too precious to pass up.

So he did. He watched, mesmerised by the way the wrinkles on your forehead and the frown on your lips that you wore so often were ironed out completely; entranced by how your smooth skin contrasted with the glistening diamond pendant of your necklace, the one he got you for your last anniversary because you didn’t like promise rings; amazed by your lengthy eyelashes, your soft tresses, your chapped yet pink and utterly kissable lips.

Jinyoung wanted to kiss you, then. He missed the kisses you shared, even though you most definitely locked lips for quite a while when he joined you in the bathroom first thing this morning, still dazed and sleepy. He missed them for a whole other reason. He missed how he could feel your lips involuntarily rise to form a smile, which, although he couldn’t bear witness to due to his incredibly close proximity to your face, he was certain could light up his entire day. He felt his heart squeezing within his chest.

“I miss your happier self.” Jinyoung muttered to no one in particular. A hand reached out to brush against the edge of your lips with a feather-light touch, swiping away a trace of drool. “I like it better when you’re happy. I don’t like it when you’re sad, or stressed. I wish I could take all of that away for you.” His fingers were acting on its own accord at this point, stroking over the apples of your cheeks, soft and tender. “I like your smile. And I like your laugh, even though you sound like a dying seal most of the time.”

You stirred slightly, repositioning yourself to get more comfortable. His fingers halted immediately, eyes wide with alarm, suddenly feeling self-conscious about his whispered confessions. It reminded him too much of the time he first confessed his feelings for you, and you left him hanging for a full fifteen minutes to answer an urgent phone call for your boss.

“At least I can easily identify my girlfriend from her laugh when we’re out with friends…” Jinyoung continued his monologue, withdrawing his hand while grinning to himself.

A soft, annoyed whine emitted from your lips. You buried your face into your arm, curling your body inwards in a desperate search for warmth.

Perhaps you were cold, Jinyoung hypothesised. Reminding you to bring a cardigan or an extra layer of clothing was an integral part of his morning routine. His eyes scanned around the room but failed to find your knitted grey cardigan.

“Cold…” You complained, eyelids batting as you slowly woke from your nap. “Hmm? Jinyoung?”

A shiver ran through your body, forcing you to fold your arms inwards to compensate for the chilly air blasting out of the air-conditioner. This didn’t go unnoticed by Jinyoung, who was rushing to remove his blazer. He carefully placed it on your curled-up body and gave your shoulders a light squeeze before starting to organise the scattered papers.

“Why… How come you’re here?” You paused, letting out a yawn. “What time is it? Are you done for the day?”

He reached for your lame excuse of a sandwich and threw it out without a second thought. “I am, I packed up and came to check on you.”

Jinyoung shot down your pained expression at the wasted food with a stern look of his own, the one that made interns cower in fear. You knew better than to get intimidated, of course, and made a silly face at him. He shook his head at your silliness, poking your side as revenge. You squealed. “Move your butt, babe. Let’s get you home.”

[miraculous-mare]

Brooklyn Brawl

Hi guys, long time no see! This fic is based on a request I got in January that I’ve been chipping away at for past month or so, which said: how about a dickinette salt fic? the class gets attacked while in Gotham and Marinette who is already dating dick helps fight back in civilian clothes and they end up flirting in front of the entire class and maybe Lila gets exposed because she told people she was dating Robin? Alya and Adrien salt

I changed up some key details, and it’s not so much a salt fic as it is a slightly salty fic. I also based Dick off of Young Justice!Robin from season one since I was rewatching that show when I started writing. I imagine this taking place in an AU where Guardian!Marinette and Bee!Chloe are part of the Team, but use different Miraculi when they fight with them in order to maintain the whole ‘covert ops team’ thing. Marinette uses the cat and Chloe combines the ladybug with the dragon. If you’re asking where Adrien is, I truly have no clue, but I quite like this AU so I might expand on that later. Happy Maribat March, and enjoy! Tagging @mochegato because your comments always push me to write, and I want to say thank you. 

Word Count: 3.7k slightly underedited words

Ever since Marinette walked out of the first year assembly that marked the start of her time in Lycée, she’d been dreaming about her class senior trip. After términale was officially over and she’d sat all her exams, Marinette, along with Mme. Bustier’s class, would be flying to New York City for an entire week. At the time, Marinette couldn’t wait to go shopping with Alya and the girls, to watch Kim and Alix race across the Brooklyn Bridge and maybe even to hold hands with Adrien as they explored Times Square. When Lila joined their class and Marinette’s friendships all shattered around her, she began dreaming of a different week, one she would mainly spend on a bench in Central Park, lost in her sketchbook. Then things changed again, and Marinette became much more acquainted with the US than she ever expected to be at seventeen, mainly due to her… extracurricular activities. As she got off the plane, she hoped she could spend her days keeping her head down, giggling quietly with Chloe as they wandered behind the rest of their class (who were all too preoccupied with Lila’s tall tales to pay any attention to them). If she were lucky (which, regardless of her powers, she new she rarely was), maybe Bast and Lightning Bug would even be able to sneak away for a rooftop run one night, perhaps along with some of their American… acquaintances. 

But, as usual, things didn’t go in Marinette’s favor at all. Rather, Chloe came down with a terrible stomach flu the first night of the trip, and couldn’t join the class on their trip to Brooklyn Bridge. Instead of joking around with her best friend, Marinette was forced to dawdle behind her classmates as they posed for pictures together and clamored to hear of Lila’s latest adventures. Today, she appeared to be recounting the forbidden friendship-turned-love affair between her and Robin, one of the world’s most well-known heroes.

“We met when I was fourteen, before we moved to Paris. My mom was stationed in Gotham.” Yeah, it’s not like all US embassies are in Washington DC, Marinette thought. “He landed on my balcony and it was love at first sight.” You mean back when he was dating Zatanna? Right… “Of course he told me his identity straight away, and taught me how to fight”  Marinette actually let out a scoff at that one— Like Bruce would ever let that slide. “But I’m supposed to keep it a secret. I only told you guys all this because I trust you so much!”

As if on cue, her cronies began to fawn over her the minute she stopped talking, Alya taking it upon herself to scream particularly loudly. Marinette regretted leaving Tikki at home to tend to Chloe, because she really needed a moral compass right now. Instead, all she had was Trixx snarling in her backpack, almost begging Mari to call Lila out. But Marinette Dupain Cheng would not succumb to the whims of a tiny mischievous goddess today, thank you very much. Not when her day had already gone so horribly and pushing Lila would do nothing but worsen it. Not when she had a rooftop date planned for the evening that she would not, under any circumstances, risk compromising. “Staying out of things won’t make anything better,” she muttered to Trixx, “But it might stop them from getting wo—“

Marinette hadn’t finished her sentence when she felt a familiar shiver run the length of her spine. “oh mon dieu…”

Looking up, she watched Killer Frost land on the archway on the far side of the bridge. The woman was staring off into the distance, too preoccupied with what she saw to pay mind to the tourists. Usually, Ladybug would take that as a sign of greater trouble, but Marinette saw it as an opportunity to get civilians to safety. She immediately turned to the nearest person, pulling them aside to explain the issue before instructing him to get as many people off the bridge and to safety as quietly and unobtrusively as possible. As he walked off, she moved to the next person, speaking quietly and moving slowly. The last thing anyone needed was for Frosty to be alerted to her actio— “AHHH! IT’S KILLER FROST!”

Of fucking course Alya had to notice. You’d think after a lifetime of being chased by Akuma, the girl would know not to draw the big bad’s attention. But common sense was not her strong suit, and now Bustier’s class was standing on an otherwise deserted, easily collapsible, bridge, Killer Frost smirking down at them.

“What are you all waiting for?” Mari yelled at her classmates. A couple of them swung around to look at her, but most of them continued to stare. Summoning the authoritative tone she usually preserved for her masked outings, she tried again. “Run!”

That seemed to do the trick. One by one, her classmates came out of their stupor and began following her across the bridge, Mme Bustier close behind. Marinette heard the crackling of ice forming and a soft swish of something sliding across it, but continued to lead her classmates in the other direction. The group was almost halfway back to land, approaching the second archway, when Marinette stopped in her tracks, feeling the ground shake beneath her. Looking up, she saw Mr. Freeze at the end of the bridge, boots clanking with every step towards them. She doesn’t have to look back to know Killer Frost has them trapped from behind.

Marinette looks around, her limited options racing through her mind. Jumping overboard would take too long and was too dangerous. Transforming, even with Trixx, would doubtless reveal her identity. She could alert the team, but Freeze was now staring her down as he levied his freeze ray at her, so she’d have to act fast.

Swinging her arm, Marinette let her bag fall to her side as she ducked. She ripped the zipper open and shoved her hand inside, smashing her thumb against the button as quickly as she could. As she did, she braced herself, certain that Freeze had already fired at her and waiting to be engulfed in ice. But the overwhelming rush of cold never came. Instead, Marinette felt a body land in front of her and heard the hushed gasps and cheers of her classmates. When she opened her eyes, they met Aqualad’s, suddenly stood in front of her and using his water bearers to block Freeze’s attacks.

The minute their eyes met, she felt a soft touch in her mind and memories flooded her senses. She saw Kaldur announce a lead on Killer Frost the ex-sidekicks would have to handle (lest the remainder of the Team get exposed in such a public fight), heard M’gann volunteer to come along as backup in the Bioship. She watched Wally split off to investigate a disturbance while Kaldur took to the river and Dick to the rooftops, hoping to corner the escapee before she started anything they couldn’t stop.

Mari! She heard Miss Martian cry the minute her telepathic bond was fully established, and knew that if she looked up she’d be able to make out the faint outline of the concealed Bioship fluttering above them. You okay?

Now that Kaldur was pushing Mr. Freeze back, she could take a second to regain her bearings. She found her class cowering in the middle of the bridge behind her, heads swiveling around in an attempt the keep track of the fight. Overhead, she found Robin had forced Killer Frost onto the archway again. He kept trying to knock her over with his Birdarangs, swinging from the bridge cables as he went, but she’d dodge them by jumping onto makeshift ice platforms. Whenever he stopped, she’d send flurries of snow at his head. So far, he’d been able to flip and jump out of her way, but Marinette wasn’t sure if he’d be able to last.

Hey! I heard that. Came his voice in her head.

Sorry baby bird. There’s only so many cables, you know?

Marinette could feel his glare on the mind link. Kaldur, she thought, what can I do to help?

Clear the civilians, he grunted, don’t do anything to expose yourself. She watched him block another attack before jumping into action.

“Hey, everyone,” she yelled, waving her hands above her head to gain the class’s attention. “The bridge archway collapse any minute. We need to take cover.” At her words, a majority of the students dispersed, crawling toward the sides of the bridge where they could easily jump into the river if need be. At least Akuma attacks made them sensible. Only Alya remained standing, her phone out as she frantically recorded the fight around her. Mari registered Kaldur mentally cursing at the reporter, then saw Freeze’s attention shift to her through his eyes. Reflexes kicking in, Marinette lunged at Alya, managing to throw them both behind a pillar. Half a second later, a ray of cryogenic liquid shot through the air where Alya had been standing, and Marinette breathed out a sigh of relief. Alya wasn’t as thrilled.

“Bitch! I was filming!” She screeched, frantically checking her phone. She was clutching Marinette’s wrist, nails digging into the other girl’s flesh. “You could have ruined my footage!” Marinette was about to bite back, but Dick’s sparking anger in the back of her head drew her back to the reality. 

“Just film from here,” she muttered. “So you’re not in danger. Besides,” she continued when she noticed Lila crouching a few feet away, “you need to be able to protect your bestie.” That seemed to placate Alya, and she released her grip on Marinette to scoot closer to her friend. Now free to get back on the field, the superhero turned her attention back to Robin, who was still evading Frost’s hits. That is, until Marinette noticed the villain’s aim shift, and she realized what was about to happen a split second before it did. She mentally called out to him, but it was too late: Robin was halfway across the bridge, aiming for a cable, when Killer Frost fired at the edge of the archway on which she stood, where the bridge cables connected. They froze through entirely, and Marinette could hear them reverberate for half a second before they all snapped. Robin, who’d been swinging across the bridge ready to snatch a cable, now came barreling towards the ground. 

As Marinette watched him fall, time seemed to slow down around her. Stretching her leg out, she slid across the half-frozen concrete, arms extended to catch him as he neared the ground. When he landed in her grip, she pulled him back under the archway, out of Frost’s range.

“Wow, I didn’t know such pretty birds fell from the sky!” Her voice, laced with humor, was enough to snap him out of his reverie. She knew Dick didn’t mind heights, but no one liked falling, and she didn’t want him getting to caught up in it. 

“what are you, my guardian angel?” He said wryly, but she didn’t miss the appreciative tone in his voice. 

Marinette scoffed. “Aren’t angels the ones that fall from heaven?” She flashed him a smile, and her toothy grin reminded him more of Bast’s snarl than of Marinette’s quick humor. He almost forgot they were in the middle of battle until Kaldur’s voice rang in their heads.

 I didn’t think I’d have to say this, but you can’t flirt with him in front of everyone! Marinette  rolled her eyes, but her attention flitted back to the fighting around her. Aqualad was pushing Freeze back, but was struggling now that Killer Frost, thinking Robin was down, had begun firing at him from above.

I just wish I could help.

Hold on, Dick thought back, eyes zeroing in on Alya’s camera. The reporter had trained it on the two, and he knew this interaction would be online. Maybe we can give the people a show…

She catches his train of thought easily, though she wont deny the mind link played a role. It’s no sooner she’s agreed than he’s swinging away, angling himself so the camera has a good view of their exchange.

“Thanks for the assist,” he grumbled at her, tone suddenly serious. “But you know I always land on my feet.”

“I thought only cats could do that,” she challenged, “and they eat little birds like you, remember?”

“you talk a big game. Can you fight to match?” He made sure to keep a playful lilt in his voice, if only for the onlookers, and saw Marinette tense convincingly at his words. 

“Of course I can. I just need the right weapon.” She held her hand out expectantly, and Robin, feigning shock, made a show of pulling his cape away, giving her access to his utility belt. Smirking at him, she grabbed the extendable bo staff, turning around to face the fight. “see if you can keep up, baby bird.” And just like that, she dashed away. Not bothering to hide the smile on his face, Robin followed.

As it happened, they’d made it just in time to join the fight. Aqualad, distracted by Killer Frost, had lost track of Freeze, who was now aiming his cold gun at the hero’s back. Robin’s Birdarang managed to knock the weapon out of his hand just in time. From there, the fight ended quickly.

“Hey birdie!” Marinette called, running towards him, “Make me fly.” In his head, she whispered maneuver seven, And he immediately got ready to lift her into the air.

As she launched herself towards Mr. Freeze, she pointed her staff straight down. As she landed, she rammed it straight through his helmet, pushing down until the glass cracked beneath her weight. Marinette pulled away, watching the villain pant for a moment before she realized he couldn’t simply freeze himself like he usually would in these situations. Robin was already on it, grabbing the freeze ray from where it landed and shooting it at the man’s head, saving his life and effectively putting him out of the fight.

Meanwhile, Aqualad had managed to take down Killer Frost, wrapping her in jets of water and sending a surge of electricity through them. The shock was enough to knock her unconscious, and he was in the process of dragging her towards the others. He made a show of looking Marinette over, appearing shocked at the bo staff in her hands.

“I see Robin made a friend,” he commented wryly. Marinette knew she would get a stern talking-to for pulling this stunt, but she figured her classmates were too dumb to make anything of it, and any incriminating evidence posted on the LadyBlog could easily be corrupted by WayneTech. 

“I like to help when I can,” she shot back, just as much sarcasm in her voice. “Though, I have to wonder, don’t these two usually have an accomplice?”

Before anyone could answer, a yellow blur shot past them, and Kid Flash appeared, holding a tied up Captain Cold for them to see. “Indeed they do. Caught this one trying to break into the Star Labs Facility in the City. The others were probably just a distraction.” 

Marinette’s classmates had started to trickle out of hiding once the fight ended. With the arrival of the new hero, they began to cheer, circling the group. Alya pushed past them all, shoving her camera in front of her. Lila, looking more nervous than usual, followed closely behind her. 

“oh mon dieu!” Alya screeched. “You’re all amazing fighters. You did such a good job, even with Marinette in the way.” As she finished speaking, she gave her old friend a disgusted look, and Marinette had to wonder if she truly believed what she was saying or if she was just playing it up for attention. “I’m sorry about her, she doesn’t know how to step out of the limelight.”

“It’s alright,” Robin said, tone harsh.

Calm down, Marinette thought, It’s not worth it. 

He made sure the camera caught his next words. “Marinette actually helped us a lot.” He swung an arm over her shoulder, smirk flashing across his face for all to see. “Besides, it’s not every day you get to fight alongside a gorgeous girl.”

Said ‘gorgeous girl’ blushed a deep shade of red in spite of herself, biting back the urge to kiss him then and there. 

Alya, on the other hand, did not seem to know when to stop. “What? How can you say that about her? Especially in front of your girlfriend!” With that declaration, the class began muttering amongst themselves. Lila tried ducking behind Alya, but the attention was already on her. 

“What are you doing?” Lila hissed. “I told you that was a secret!”

Alya’s eyes narrowed, and she fixed Robin with a determined stare. “Just because he—“ she spat out the word “— doesn’t want people to know about your relationship doesn’t mean he can flirt with other girls in front of you. Or at all, actually. Come on girl, don’t let him treat you like that!”

Robin’s face looked more and more shocked the more she spoke, but before he could respond a peel of laughter broke the air. Kid Flash was doubled over beside him, looking at Alya like she was a comedian. 

“H-her?” He pointed at Lila, still shaking from his laughing fit. “His girlfriend? No way!” Lila stood quietly, eyes downcast, though she had the gall to look insulted at that remark. “No offence, kid, but I’ve seen Robin’s girlfriends, and you’re not really his type. He prefers black-haired, blue-eyed girls, you know? Preferably those who can kick his ass and have some magic powers.” He turned to Marinette, a devious smile on his face.

If you say anything I don’t appreciate, she whispered across the mind link, I will kill you. And I won’t even bother to make it look like an accident.

His eyes widened at her thoughts, but in true Wally West fashion he disregarded all warning and pushed forward. “Kind of like you. You really helped take down Freeze over there?” She nodded harshly, and his grin only widened. “Figures he’s all over you. Robin’s like that with powerful women. If you ever want his number, let me know.” Hearing Wally’s laughter echoing across the mind link did not, surprisingly enough, weaken her resolve to commit murder. 

Perhaps sensing her bubbling anger, Kaldur took the opportunity to step in. “Now that we’ve established that Robin is indeed single, it’s time for us to leave.” His voice, commanding as it always was in battle, captured everyone’s attention. Even the class, though utterly confused at the heroes’ declarations, remained quiet. “The police will arrive soon to take your statements. If anyone is hurt, they’ll be able to direct you to medical help. We apologize for this disturbance, and hope the rest of your trip is less eventful. With that, the superheroes all hefted an ice villain across their shoulders and made to leave. Marinette, realizing she still clutched the bo staff, held it out to Robin. 

“nah, keep it,” he told her, “consider it a thank you.” With a final wink, he disappeared after his teammates. 

Uh, bye Mari, M’gann’s voice echoed in her head. And, good luck with this mess. I can sense a lot of anger here. Call me if you need anything okay?

Thanks, Mari thought back, just before the alien’s touch slipped away and she heard the faint woosh of the bioship flying out of range. When she focused back on the class she found them dead silent, staring at Lila. Marinette noted duly that Alya was still filming

“What?” Lila yelled, trying to keep the panic from her voice. “He had to do that. What would we do if my identity got out, huh?”

Marinette could, and likely should, let these lies slide like she usually would. She should try not to let it get to her, and focus on the evening ahead with her American (and extraterrestrial) friends. But the rush of battle was still flowing through her, and Trixx was very strongly urging her to react, and, really, Marinette Dupain-Cheng did not have half the self control she claimed to possess. So of course, she just had to respond: “Hide your identity from who? The class full of people who obviously already knew about it, given that one of them brought it up first, or his superhero friends who he would have definitely told already, especially if you’ve been dating him in and out of the mask for four years now? Sounds a little odd to me, and I’m still confused about why he would need to flirt with another girl just to hide your relationship. Though I’m sure you have an incredibly logical explanation for all of this, right Lila? Hey, maybe Alya can post it on her blog and people can debate on just how much bullshit you’re spewing” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, and as she finished speaking she quickly turned on her heel, swinging her newly-acquired bo staff over her shoulder and walking off the bridge toward the approaching convoy of NYPD cars. 

Behind her, she could hear her classmates’ angry voices beginning to rise, drowning out Lila’s sputtering excuses. Marinette was no fool, of course— she knew most of them would be back in the liar’s web by tonight. But that didn’t make calling her out any less fun, and now that her days with this class were extremely limited, she figured these small pleasures were worth the backlash. Besides, maybe the encounter would teach Lila to keep her mouth shut for the next few days—and if Marinette was going to think of a way to catch one of the fastest men alive by tonight, she needed the quiet.

Please let me know what you think! this is my first full piece I’m publishing for this fandom and I would love some feedback. I’m trying to write and post Maribat March prompts every weekend, so look out for that as well. PS. If you have a link to the discord or the list of prompts, I would greatly appreciate either. Thanks for reading!

[haunthouse]

allijay + switchboard

premise is that jaylen was on a one-on-one switchboard call with allie when she was alternated!! chat rp hell my beloveds saw the other half of this convo with new jaylen so. this is old jaylen.

"Results are up," Jaylen says, ignoring the warning signs: the pressure of a headache building behind her eyes, the sinking feeling in her stomach. "Gimme a minute to read 'em, I'll give you the highlights."

She scrolls down the league's election results page. Unwin the underbracket, and gray creeps into the corners of her vision. Something about debt — never a good omen — and a rumbling like distant thunder booms. The Monitor has given gifts to every team, and the sound grows louder, and louder, loud enough that she drops the switchboard's phone to the ground and covers her ears with her hands, eyes clenching shut as the room trembles.

When she opens her eyes, the phone is in her hand again. She doesn't remember picking it up.

"Jay? You still there?"

It's still Allie's voice on the other end of the phone. Jaylen takes a deep breath, then another — she is no longer in Tot's garage, no longer at hir switchboard. The set-up in front of her is sparser; a soundboard, a connecting phone with its curlicue cable, a couple of notebooks and her guitar leaning against the wall — her guitar, the acoustic one with the old Garages stickers on it they'd printed on label paper back in college, half-peeling off.

"Allie?" Her voice comes out smaller than she wants it to be. Shakes on the familiar syllables of his name, splitting them into pieces, cracked pottery glued haphazardly back together. Her ears are ringing. "What the fuck was that?"

"What was what?" She can picture, even at a distance, the furrow in Allie's brow. "You alright, honey? What's wrong?"

"I don't know, it — I got fucking teleported or some shit, I don't know. Sounded like a bomb going off or something. You didn't fucking hear that?"

And it is, in this new universe and in the old one, Allie who makes the connection first, who says "Okay," who says, slowly in that way that means he's trying not to panic, "Elections were today, right? Jay, I need you to check the results for me."

"I was about to, uh, give me a second —" and Jaylen scrambles to find her phone where she dropped it, face-up on the table next to the switchboard.

The Flowers chose Jaylen Hotdogfingers to receive an Alternate Trust.

She reads the blessing aloud, like it's a death sentence, like how Parker III had read out Star player Jaylen Hotdogfingers is incinerated those first elections.

"Fuck. Fuck, Allie, are you — are you still there?" She asks, though what she means is are you still my Allie?

"I'm here, I — did not want to be right, shit. I'm here, Jay, I'm — are you still —" and it could be are you still there or it could be are you still my Jay and Jaylen doesn't know, but she doesn't let him finish the sentence.

"I don't know how to fucking tell, I — I was in Tot's garage, I was telling you about the shit the coin was saying, I was gonna catch you up on the Moss Woman bullshit after the election." She's counting the facts off on her fingers like they mean anything.

"No, you were — you were telling me about the farmer's market," Allie says, something sinking in his voice. "Shit. Uh. Hi."

And Jaylen — who had gone out of her mind with worry when the shadows were at risk of alternating just in case Mike got swapped, who had taken the news of Agan alternating from within the trench with immense panic on Allie's behalf, but who hadn't done anything to prepare for it herself, because why would she, she's a good pitcher, a famous one at that, and maybe Patterson's alternation should have made her afraid but she had hardly noticed it because it isn't like she'd cared about the first Polkadot at all — begins to cry.

[justahopelessssromantic]

My Bad!

A/N: @mayans-girl I’m so sorry I lost your request as I stupidly deleted the post to resubmit it after I was having difficulties with the site. Regardless here it is for your request for another member hitting on you and Coco gets pissed. Thank you so much for the request I hope you enjoy and a big thank you to everyone for reading! ❤️

Also shout out to my twinnie @starrynite7114! Thank you so much for helping me brainstorm and work out the idea. You truly inspire and motivate me everyday! 💕

*gif not mine*

Warming: Angst and some fluff

The music was thumping around the clubhouse as one of the famous Mayans MC parties was in full swing. The place was packed with members from charters all over who came by to celebrate Santo Padre’s charter’s rise to the top.

You had just split off from your Old Man to find yourself a drink leaving him to chat with Oscar from the Stockton charter. Weaving through the people you smiled at the familiar faces when your phone buzzed from the back pocket of your tight jeans. Slipping it out you stopped and leaned against the railing of the steps that led into the clubhouse making sure that you were off to the side and out of the way.

Your phone lit up with a new message from your half brother Miles. You haven't seen him in forever and tried your best to find him throughout the years with no such luck. The two of you had been seperated after the death of your father, thrust into the system to fend for yourselves. Now after so many years later he had found you and reached out.

You practically raised him growing up. Your mother's were no shows throughout your lives leaving you with your drunk of a father. You didn't blame them for leaving him but you did always resent them for leaving their children alone with that man. You did everything in your power to protect him from your father's rage, help him in his schooling, to keep him alive. You were the mother he never had and the mother you never got.

You smiled reading the message from him saying he couldn’t wait to see you again tomorrow. You were so excited and had a day full of events planned out for your reunion. Coco knew how important this meeting was for you and was even helping you make all the arrangements. He was just as excited to meet the brother he had only heard childhood tales about but most importantly he was happy for you to have your family back. Just like him you had had it rough. If anyone deserved some sliver of real family to hold on to it was you.

You sent back a quick ‘me too’ before slipping the phone back into its resting place. Whipping around the railing you bounded up the stairs and into the building in search of that drink you were after in the first place. The room was filled with people, it seemed as if literally every Mayan was here as the whole place was just bursting at the seams with men in the leather cuts and then on top of it you had the friends and families of members all there as well. You made your way through the cloud of smoke, past the table where Bishop and Taza were involved in a round of poker blowing them a kiss and sending them a wink before sliding up to the bar. You landed on a simple beer smiling and thanking Chucky before heading towards the back hoping to sneak out where it would certainly be a little less packed and quiet to catch some air.

Slipping in and out of the crowds rather smoothly, this wasn’t your first rodeo, you were just about to your destination when an unknown man from the Spokane charter who was leaning against the wall caught your attention.

“If I knew the woman in Santo Padre were as sexy as you I would have stopped by a long time ago,” He grinned bringing his lit cigarette up to his lips inhaling deeply before blowing the smoke out towards you as his eyes raked up and down your figure.

You rolled your eyes internally giving him a tight lips smile. One of the problems with big events such as these was that not everyone knew who you were. At least at the smaller gatherings it was well known that you were Coco’s Old Lady and he, your Old Man. You were just about to correct the man opening your mouth when he practically shushed you. Now you were pissed.

“Nah baby,” he purred, “Save that pretty little voice for all the screaming I’ll be having you doing tonight.”

You scrunched up your eyebrows looking to the ground as you gathered your thoughts. Bringing your head back up you tilted it slightly crossing your arms with your beer up, “Does that line ever work? Like do some girls actually respond well to that, to you?”

“Careful what you say bitch,” he snarled, pushing off the wall as you crushed his ego with your few words. Most men were the same as him, insecure and trying to make up for their tiny packages with tough guy acts. “Do you even know who I am?”

You scuffed snickering as you kept your gaze dead on his eyes not backing down as he got in your face, “Do you even know who I am?” You asked with just as much arrogance as him, “I’m Johnny Coco Cruz’s fucking Old Lady. Yeah the man who could put a bullet through your brain even in this crowded room without you even knowing what’s coming.” You smirked as you saw the realization and fear flash in his eyes before he recovered quickly. “You’re lucky he can’t kill one of his own,” you continued with a threatening tone, “Now I suggest you call it a night before that pretty little voice of yours gets you in any more trouble.” You took a swig of your beer all while remaining uncomfortable eye contact with him before spinning around and heading out the back door as you were intending on in the first place when that jackass so disrespectfully interrupted you.

You were staring at the screen of your phone, your now empty bottle sat on a pile of cinder blocks beside you as you scrolled through your feed more annoyed than anything now. You hated when drunk assholes hit on you but it was even worse when it was one of Coco's brothers even one from another charter.

Miles saw you standing there with your back turned to him. He chuckled to himself as he snuck up behind you. He knew you'd be here as he knew you were dating a member from the Santo Padre charter but he wanted to surprise you with his new cut. You were his rock growing. Everything you sacrificed for him wasn’t lost on him. More than anything he wanted to make you proud.

Sneaking behind you, the jumper cabled your sides just like he had when you were young. You helped jumping away from the shock causing your phone to slip from your grasp and onto the hard rocks beneath you. Bending over you cursed under your breath picking it up and dusting off the screen. Straightening up you whipped around expecting to find Coco fully ready to tear him a new one. Your mouth dropped as you found your not so little anymore younger brother, not Coco, standing there before you. He had changed so much throughout the years but you still recognized those dark eyes of his and could picture those chubby cheeks he had.

"Oh my God," you gasped out, "Miles?" You instinctively pulled him into your arms hugging him tight, "What the hell are you doing here?" You asked, pulling back just enough to give yourself a better look at the man he had become, "And what's this?" You asked, pulling at his cut, "You're prospecting?" You grinned meeting his eyes once more. You were so incredibly proud of him.

“Yeah, Spokane charter,” he replied proudly, “You look really good.”

“And you look so…. big,” you laughed still shocked by the sudden surprise.

“Well I’m not that eleven year old kid anymore.” He chuckled, taking you in just as much as you did him. The moment seemed so unreal, almost as if it was a dream.

“Shit I have to pee,” you said feeling all your drinks hit your bladder seemingly at once, “Don’t go anywhere. I will be right back.” You scurried off in the direction you came from stealing one more glance back to check that he really was there before heading into the door to find the bathroom.

Coco was shooting the shit with Angel, Gilly, Creeper and various members from all over as they had a smoke. The sky above was dark, almost back with the stars sparkling like diamonds as a cool breeze blessed them with some relief from the usually unbearable heat.

One of the men from the Yuma charter approached the group directing his words straight to Coco, “Hey man some fucker from the Spokane charter was hitting on your girl hard. Being real disrespectful. She shut him down but I thought you should know. So you can set him right.”

Coco threw his cigarette to the ground stomping it under his boot. Patting the man on the shoulder as he stomped past he thanked him ready to find that asshole with Angel, Creeper, and Gilly on his tail.

He made his way into the clubhouse asking around when someone pointed him in the direction of the back. He knew that was your favorite place to go to get some solace during hectic events such as this. From what it sounded like the man was out there with you ruining your peace and Coco wasn’t having that.

Busting through the door he met eyes with the prospect from the Spokane charter. He was leaning against the fence beer in hand. Now Coco was fuming. A fucking prospect had disrespected his Old Lady. The kid had a lot of learning to do but he couldn’t do it here, he had to take him to the ring, do it right and use him as an example for any other fucker who thought they could talk to his woman like that.

“Yo prospect! I heard you were saying some real nasty shit to my Old Lady,” Coco snarled, stepping down the steps slowly Angel and Creeper close behind as Gilly stayed by the door.

Miles looked at him confused. He had talked to a lot of women during the night but couldn’t recall flirting with a single one of them. He was mostly too busy being ordered around and given chores. “Look man I don’t know what you’re talking about. I think you have the wrong-”

“I suggest you stop talking,” Creeper interrupted him standing next to Coco, “You ain’t getting yourself out of this now.”

“Come on prospect,” Coco spat out, “We settle this in the fucking ring.” Gilly came down the steps meeting up with Creeper and taking the prospect with them towards the ring giving him no room to protest.

Coco looked over at Angel, “Find my girl. Let her know what’s up,” he requested of his best friend, “She’s not gonna wanna miss this,” he smirked. Giving each other a nod Coco set off in the direction of the cage ready to kick some ass.

“Yo (Y/N),” Angel called out, swaggering up to you exhaling a puff of smoke as you excited the clubhouse to the back expecting to find your brother, “I’ve been looking all over for you. If we don’t hurry we’re gonna fuckin’ miss it.”

“Miss what?”

“Coco’s getting in the ring. Gonna show that asshole who was hitting on you his place.”

That must have been where your brother went, to watch the fight. You grinned at Angel, happy someone had noticed and that the guy hadn’t listened to you hanging around despite your warning. “Well what the hell are we standing around here for then?”

Following his lead the two of you headed towards the ring. You loved the cage, your favorite part of these parties was watching the fights, and you especially loved watching your Old Man get in the ring. Something about watching him take out another, bare chested with his tats on full display, covered in sweat and blood really turned you on. To top it off he’d be giving that asshole a good beating. Let’s just say Coco was going to be a very lucky man tonight.

The sound of the crowds cheering got louder and your adrenaline was pumping as you approached the ring. Angel shoved his way past the people gathered around making a perfect path to get you to the best spot. The fight was in full swing, you had missed the first portion of it and were a little disappointed but once you saw Coco and he made eye contact with you briefly a grin on his face you forgot all about it.

“Fuck him up!” You screamed eating up every moment, the smile never leaving your face. You turned your attention to the other guy and that’s when your smile fell as your eyes went wide. Coco wasn’t fighting the guy who was hitting on you earlier. He was fighting your fucking brother.

From what you could see Coco was in the lead, looking a little better than Miles. The two men were circling each other, arms up, waiting for the other to strike first. Leaning up against the cage you grabbed onto the metal calling out to Coco. Against his better judgment he turned to look at you expecting to find your gorgeous smiling face but instead was met with your terrifying scowl.

“That’s not the guy,” You screamed at him over the noise. He furrowed his brow looking at you.

“What the hell do you mean?”

“That’s my fucking brother!”

Turning back to face his opponent he could now see the resemblance although it was too little too late. While he was distracted your brother took the opportunity swinging a brutal right hook to Coco’s jaw the moment he turned back around.

The crowd erupted in cheers and jeers. The men who had bet on Coco clearly disappointed in the events that played out before them.

You gasped watching him fall to the ground wincing along with him from the hit. He looked up making eye contact with you glaring as he rolled his jaw spitting out blood.

You grimaced giving him your best apologetic look as you yelled out, “My bad!”

That night you ended up starting your family plans early with you patching up both men in your living room. Letty was so kind to assist you working on Coco while you took care of Miles. You all chatted getting to know one another bonding over the events of the night. Thankfully there were no hard feelings all around from the misunderstanding.

“You got quite the fuckin’ right hook, hermano,” Coco complimented Miles as he held an ice pack to his jaw.

“Yeah he really did a number on you Coco,” Letty teased as she pulled out an alcohol wipe from the first aid kit.

“Hey I had the fight up until (Y/N) distracted me,” he chuckled smiling at you, “I guess I learned where your real loyalty lies.”

You shook your head laughing lightly as you began stitching up your brother, “Blood is blood,” you teased back playing along.

Miles chuckled along hissing as you stitched up the cut on his cheek, “Thanks man, you throw a mean one yourself.” He flinched away hissing some more as you reached the middle of the cut, “Clearly.”

“Stay still,” you scolded leaning in closer to get a better view.

“What do you say next time we take down that fucker together,” Coco suggested as

Letty dabbed at his face causing him to wince.

“Deal.” Miles grinned. He liked Coco. He was a good match for you and had seen first hand just how far he was willing to go in your defence. All he ever wanted for you was someone to defend you and take care of you like you had for him all those years.

“Excuse me but I think I handled him just fine,” you said interjecting on their plans. It had already been tried once and this is where it ended, with your brother and man beating each other to a pulp.

“Of course you did mami,” Coco smirked over at you as he lit a joint taking a drag and passing it to Miles, “But just imagine the damage the two of us could cause.” He said exhaling.

Rolling your eyes you finished the last stitch to your brother’s face before perching down by Coco on the ground and settling between his legs. He wrapped his arms around you resting his head on your shoulder. Miles passed the joint to Letty as she sat next to him. Leaning forward she completed the round passing it to you and then lounging back on the sofa. You took a hit yourself giving Coco another one as well.

The four of you spent the rest of the night sharing stories and catching up. The conversation flowed easily as most of the time you all had smiles on your face. This was your happy place, just hanging out with your family, whole once more. You snuggled closer into Coco feeling his chest rise and fall with each breath that tickled your neck as you listened to your brother and Letty discussing their favorite shows. Closing your eyes you relaxed enjoying the feeling of home.

Everything Tag List: @jad3djay @fairygardenss @carlaangel86 @briannab1234 @starrynite7114 @agirllovespasta @howaboutash @gemini0410 @naytraydr @knowles-morgan

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!