#he's occupying a seat in a team that's meant for 'young' drivers

[lewishamiltonstuff]

Learn some wheel I beg and start talking about Yuki as his own person and stop involving ricciardo in every post about Yuki and in his tag constantly. Embarrassing from a LH. If a wdc and 2 race winners can come to this understanding who do this for a living then that’s that. Every driver past and present would have the same perspective and many have said this. Now get out of the Yuki tag and talk about how shambolic merc are being to Lewis rn.

https://www.tumblr.com/ef-1/747084122950942720/sergio-he-alex-was-just-in-the-blind-spot

Hi, my friends wanted to know what you're smoking so we can get it for all of us.

[illicitlimerence-writes]

the 1 | c. leclerc

pairing: charles leclerc x ex!reader word count: 4k words (how the hell did that happen?) request: yes, by anon: “hi, can i request a story with charles and reader based on driver’s license by olivia rodrigo? maybe high school sweethearts that broke up because they couldn’t handle long distance (for charles ascending career).  fluffy ending with them maybe getting back together years later and him being proud because reader is actually a really nice driver” prompt: character a and character b broke up, but now they meet at a christmas party. from this prompt list. not my prompts, credits to the person who created it!warnings: language, flashbacks, a ton of references to taylor swift and olivia rodrigo. THE AGES AND YEARS MIGHT NOT MAKE SENSE BUT I TRIED MY BEST lol a/n: day 6! i really didn’t plan this to be so long. what can i say… i have no self control. REMINDER THAT MY REQUESTS ARE CLOSED, EVEN IF IT’S FOR THE SPECIAL. pls, i don’t want to close my askbox but if i keep getting i’ll have to turn it off.

my masterlist / 25 days of christmas masterlist

there was a time when sneaking around was fun, exciting. when their worlds revolved only around each other and the only worry in their minds was keeping their relationship a secret. 

their friend group was a close knit one, they knew each other since they were kids and had grown up together, and when they’d reached the age of first boyfriends, girlfriends, and other partners, they’d all made a pact to never date someone from the group. 

the fact that it was forbidden only made things more interesting for them. 

what fools they’d been, hoping for a forever at such a young age, thinking their love would be eternal and nothing could ever come between them.

they thought they were in the clear, for so long their friends were unaware of the relationship between the two of them, they would reach an age where they would never care that they’d been hiding the truth for so many years. 

six years together was enough to know they’d never feel a love like theirs.

but he was a passionate person, and whilst she loved when that passion was directed to her, on other occasions it felt as if she were the second option. the other thing to occupy his mind when he got tired of racing.

teenage daydreams turned into nightmares. their young age meant they felt everything. and everything was intense and fiery and red. 

how ironic it was, that the color that had best described their secret relationship turned into a color that would chase him around wherever he went. that right when his career seemed to go the up, when his future looked gold, his personal life had hit an all time low, when the scarlet fire that burned between them had turned into ashes. 

she always knew he was destined for greatness. and he was so determined and focused and so in love with racing that it was only natural, only obvious that he’d climb his way to the top teams of his sport in a short time. his talent was one that she’d neverseen in anyone, and he loved showing it off, not in a braggy way, but he knew what he was capable of, and he wasn’t afraid to show it, he saw no reason to hide it. 

age 18.

“slow down!” she yelled as she laughed, holding onto the side of the car door. all the windows were down, as was the top, they were finally putting to good use charles’ convertible car.

“don’t listen to her, charles, speed up!” one of their friends, nate, added from the back of the car. the five of them were celebrating charles’ birthday, he was the first in their group to turn 18 and he’d just gotten his driver’s license, finally free to drive around wherever he wanted.

charles laughed, speeding a little before settling for a constant speed that wasn’t too fast or too slow. 

“it’s a great thing your parents gave you a car, now we have a personal chauffeur,” she said, throwing a teasing smile his way. they were seating in the front, with their three friends in the back, but somehow it felt as if they were the only ones there.

“no, none of that. you have to learn how to drive, too, otherwise what are you going to do when i’m gone?”

“go with you, duh,” she rolled her eyes.

“hey, that is true, because at least we all know how to drive, we’re ready. but you don’t… why don’t you?” another one of their friends, elise, asked.

“i don’t know,” she shrugged, “i’ve never had the need to. and to be honest, i don’t know how good of a driver i’ll be if i ever sit behind the wheel.” she admitted.

“yeah, we’ve all seen you play mario kart, you always seem to find the wall.” charles laughed, making her hit his shoulder with a fist.

“shut up. keep that up and i won’t learn how to drive just to spite you.” 

they laughed, enjoying the moment of freedom, just the five of them, five friends since birth, friends til death. five friends, two lovers.

-

it had been years since the five of them were all back home for the holidays, sometimes either only one of them was gone, or they were all away, but after three years, they were all back home at the same time. and that was something to be celebrated. they’d all seen each other throughout the years, but never the five of them at once.

charles arrived first, the christmas dinner was taking place at elise’s apartment, she’d just moved into her new place, so this worked both as a reunion and a housewarming. he’d decided to walk there, since it was on the same street as his building. he took the elevator and knocked on the door, he heard shuffling of feet approach and wrapped his fingers a little tighter around the neck of the wine bottle he’d bought.

“hey, charles, i wasn’t expecting anyone to be punctual,” elise laughed, moving aside to let him in.

“i’m the first one here?” he asked, raising the bottle, “this is for you, by the way. congrats on the new place,” he smiled.

“thank you! welcome, make yourself at home, but do take your shoes off because that white rug is new,” she smiled, walking to the kitchen, “and yeah, but nate called like two minutres ago, he and marie are on their way.”

“oh, and…” he didn’t finish, and it was finally hitting him that he’d be seeing her again.

“(y/n) is going to be a bit late, she had to go to the museum in nice so she’s probably going to be stuck in a little bit of traffic,”

“she’s- she didn’t take the train?” he asked.

“no, she drove there.”

“she drives?” he asked, sounding completely surprised by that. she was always so apprehensive whenever that topic arose in conversation.

“yeah! you didn’t know? she’s… you remember how we always used to joke around with her always crashing once she learned how to drive?” charles nodded, prompting her to continue,  “she actually aced her driving test, both the technical and the written tests.”

“oh, i… i didn’t know that,”

“what happened with you two? you used to be inseperable. like, yeah, all five of us were close, but it was always charles and (y/n), and then us.”

“i- i’m not sure. i guess… distance and responsibilities was just a lot for our friendship.”

“well maybe you can rekindle that friendship now. it’ll do you both good.”

“yeah,” charles said, and right then the doorbell rang.

he felt like he needed some peace and quiet to think, but with his two friends arriving just then, that seemed impossible to get. 

if he was honest, he hadn’t given himself much time to think about her. at first, of course, she was the only thing in his mind, they’d spent six years together, and he couldn’t believe how it was all slipping from his fingers so easily.

age 21.

she sighed as she heard the automatic voicemail message, she had been trying to call charles for the past five minutes and all she was met with was his pre-recorded message.

“charles, you better pick up this damn phone. i can’t believe you, how could you miss this? i asked you time and time again, even moved this three times for you. and where are you? not here. i- i don’t know if i can keep doing this. you always promise that i’m your priority, but that’s just not true. if you don’t want to be with me then just say it, i’m a big girl and i can handle it. but i don’t deserve this. i don’t deserve to be someone’s second choice. and i know that your career is important, trust me i know that better than anyone. all i asked of you was one night, one night for you to actually be there for me. you know what? forget it, don’t even bother coming. not to the museum, or to my apartment. and don’t worry about me, i’ll find my way home. i don’t need you to drive me around anymore.”

she hung up, staring out to the city of nice. it was the opening of a new exhibit in the museum of modern and contemporary art, an exhibit that she’d been a big part of, probably her proudest achievement, considering she was still a student in university. everyone was there for her. her parents, friends, classmates and workers from the museum. well, almost everyone. 

charles hadn’t replied since earlier that morning. he didn’t wish her good luck, or even acknowledged the opening of the exhibit. he just said ‘see you tonight’. and that was it. he was in italy, had been for the past week. ever since the announcement that he was making the switch from sauber to ferrari she’d been seeing him even less than when he started racing in f1. she understood, of course, that there were certain responsibilities that came when being a ferrari driver. she knew that, she was his biggest supporter, but she wished that he was as passionate about her achievements as she was of his. or even acknowledge them and congratulate her. 

many times she’d told herself that she was being selfish, of course things were going to change once charles made it to the big leagues, but things were changing too fast. he spent more time away from home than with her, and when he was home he was practicing on his simulator, or preparing for an interview, a ferrari event. 

this was the last straw. it was a long time coming, and him not showing up, not even bothering to text back, this was enough.

she walked back inside, but stumbled into a waiter passing by, causing him to drop his tray on top of her. her dress now sported a wine-colored stain right in the middle. it was a dress charles had gifted her on one of their anniversaries. it was poetic, how the dress was now ruined, as was their relationship. she ran to the coat room, wrapping her black coat around her. she wasn’t going to let anything else ruin this night.

the next morning, she signed up for driving lessons.

two weeks later, she was getting perfect marks on both tests.

she once said she wouldn’t learn to drive just to spite him, but this was better. to show him that she didn’t need him anymore. 

-

the four friends were having a nice time, drinking wine and eating chips and other snacks as dinner was cooking. 

“elise, i swear, next time we’re hanging out at my place because finding a parking spot is impossible around here,” a new voice said, walking in through the front door. 

there she was.

wearing a tan, long coat, a briefcase-style bag hanging from her shoulder, all black turtleneck sweater, leggings and boots on. makeup done to perfection, a deep shade of red on her lips. 

“hello everyone,” she smiled, tossing her bag on the floor and walking to the dining area. “what did i miss?” she asked, and everyone started filling her in on their previous conversation topics.

she hadn’t even glanced at him. not once.

charles didn’t even know if she knew he was coming, if he was there at all. 

-

it wasn’t until later, when everyone’s cheeks were flushed from the wine, when the leftover food was growing cold in the forgotten plates, and they were all sitting around the living room, sharing stories and memories of years’ past, that they talked to each other.

“... and the museum is doing a really cool charity event in late january, so that’s where all of our focus is right now,” she finished catching everyone up to speed about her job in the museum. ever since college that place had become her home. “you’re all invited, of course, we need all the help we can get.”

“when is it?” charles asked, he couldn’t deny the fact that he was impressed by everything she was handling in the museum, she did a little bit of everything, but those little bits eventually turned into big, great things. he was impressed, however, not surprised. he always knew she could do it, she’d fallen in love with art in her teenage years, the first time they visited a contemporary museum. they’d gone together, of course, and charles couldn’t forget the way her eyes widened, the way she clearly understood what the artist wanted to say, it was love at first sight. 

“the 21st,” she turned to him. charles had expected a reaction from her, but she looked at him like he was just her friend. 

“we’ll be there,” nate said. 

“you’re not busy, superstar?” marie joked, looking at charles.

“i don’t think so. and if i am i’ll just move whatever to a different day.”

“you don’t have to do that,” she said, and this time charles caught something. her voice sounded a little harsher.

“i want to, we haven’t seen each other in so long, and you’ve done a lot for me, it’s only fair that i return the favor,” he smiled, wanting to get something more out of her, he got nothing, only a nod.

-

age 19.

“come on, you’ve been, quite possibly, the best person i ever could’ve asked for. it’s only fair i return the favor.” charles said, keeping his hand over her eyes as he led her to the surprise he’d prepared for her.

“you know i don’t need anything,” she chuckled, and he could feel her smile, the apples of her cheeks rising.

“well, this is more something for me, but it’s going to be good for you, eventually,”

“what do you mean?” she asked, still up for whatever he was planning. he removed his hand from her eyes. “what-”

“it’s your very own private driving lesson,” charles explained, making her laugh.

“charles, i don’t need to learn how to drive,”

“of course you do! you have to at least know the basics,”

“gas, brake, turn to the right, turn to the left, lights… i think i got it.”

“come on,” he chuckled, wrapping his arms around her, “why don’t you want to learn?”

“i don’t know. i guess… i enjoy having you to drive me around, i like singing in the car with you, with the wind blowing in my hair, or just sitting in silence and watching the landscapes outside. i like doing that with you. plus… i’m afraid of having control of a car, because what if i lose control? what if the brakes fail, or someone crashes into me… it’s a lot to think about all the time. i think i’m just not made for driving.”

“well, lucky for you i was made for driving, and i like having you as my co-pilot, there’s no one else i’d rather have by my side.”

-

“it’s gifts time!” nate said loudly. “i’ll start,” he declared, standing up and picking a bag off the floor. “for you,” he started, handing a white envelope to (y/n), “and you,” he said, giving charles a small box, “and you,” he gave elise a wrapped gift that resembled a mug in shape, “and finally, you,” he said, giving marie a thin, long box.

they all opened theirs, marie got a hand-made friendship bracelet. elise got a new mug, charles got a pair of boxers with lightning mcqueen all over them, and (y/n) got a ticket to an exhibit in a parisian museum.

elise was next, then marie. as marie sat down, after handing everyone their gifts, charles pulled out his phone, sending a few pdf files to their groupchat.

“merry christmas, guys.” he said as all their phones rang. they all opened the files, each named after one of them, they were confirmations to a hotel booking, as well as a scanned picture of what would be their vip passes for the italian grand prix in monza.

“charles!”

“no way!”

“italia, mio home, here i come,” nate said, pinching his fingers together.

she gave him a small smile, muttering a ‘thanks’ as she stood up.

“well, now i wish i hadn’t been last, nothing can top that off,” she said, “but i hope you all like these. merry christmas, i hope we get to spend many more years as friends, and more evenings like this.” she said, handing them all their gifts and sitting down to watch their expressions. she loved giving gifts. 

nate received a new gaming headset, eloise got a tea set, marie got a sweater, and charles got a replica of an f1 car, he inspected it closely.

“it’s made out of carrara marble,” she explained. 

“wow, it’s… beautiful, thank you.”

“you’re welcome, i’ve… nevermind,” she said, charles was about to ask her what she wanted to say but was interrupted with nate announcing he was leaving. marie left with him, and not long after she was saying her goodbyes too.

“i guess that’s my cue to leave, too.”

“i didn’t see your car,” she said, she would’ve remembered seeing his car parked somewhere.

“i walked here, i didn’t see the point in driving,”

“huh,” she said, grabbing her bag and hanging it from her shoulder. charles frowned as she walked to elise, hugging her. “well, i’ll give you a lift if you want.”

yes, yes, yes, please. yes. go with her.

everything inside of him lit up at her offer, part of him couldn’t believe she was even offering in the first place. he said goodbye to elise quickly, rushing after her.

“wait up,” he said, jogging to catch up. 

they didn’t speak as the elevator went down, she could feel his eyes on her, shifting away to try and be subtle. as they exited the building he had to follow her, he didn’t even know what car she drove. 

“you’re shitting me,” he said, looking at the silver logo in front of the car.

“what? not all of us can afford a ferrari,” she said, “what? you can’t be seen inside a mercedes?” she smirked. out of instinct, charles walked to the driver’s side, but stopped in his tracks as she unlocked the door and watched him standing there. “i know this is usually your side, but you’re a passenger for these next minutes,” 

charles was left speechless as he walked to the passenger side, it felt so foreign. especially when she was the one behind the wheel. he closed the door as he got in, and waited for her to turn on the car. he turned to her when she didn’t.

“seatbelt,” she reminded him.

charles couldn’t stop the small chuckle that left his lips.

“you’re a really responsible driver,” he said.

“of course i am. no one knows what might happen.”

“i- i have to say, it’s really weird seeing you like this,”

“i know. but… turns out i’m a damn great driver. it helps me relax, and it’s… thrilling, to work in sync with the right machine to get from point a to point b…”

“now you get what i feel with my cars.”

“i always got that,” she clarified. “i always knew how important driving is to you. it just hurt to know that it was more important than me.”

“it wasn’t- it-”

“oh, please,” she chuckled humorlessly, turning on the car, she checked the mirrors before leaving the parked space. “i’ve made my peace with that a long time ago, it’s okay to admit it. i’m but hurt. not anymore.”

“but it wasn’t i-”

“listen, i don’t… i don’t want to discuss this, racing was your number one priority and that’s completely fine, i get it. it’s normal to get so caught up in it that you forget about everything else. i’m sure i used to do that too, with the museum and all,”

“you did, but not like i did. and i… i’m sorry, for… making you feel like that.”

“like i said, i made my peace with that long ago, i don’t need an apology.”

“well, i still feel like i owe you one.”

“it’s fine, you don’t have to feel guilty. we were young, dumb, still feeling like we were teenagers, pretending to even know what future was like. we were each other’s first love, it’s normal to still have feelings.”

“do you?”

“what?”

“have feelings? for me?”

“i feel a lot of things, charles, and six years, plus so many more as friends, are not easy to forget. it would’ve been nice, you know.”

“what?”

“if you would’ve been the one. it’s a story just straight from a movie. do you think-” she cut herself off.

“what?” charles asked, and he remembered the other thought she’d stopped herself from saying out loud back at elise’s.

“do you think that… if one thing had been different… everything would be different? today? now?”

charles stayed quiet, thinking about every little thing he would’ve done differently. 

“maybe. yeah.”

“yeah,” she repeated.

she’d been driving around in circles, they’d reached charles’ building about five minutes ago, but she hadn’t stopped driving. she kept doing the same four turns over and over again. 

“what were you going to say… when you gave me the car?” he asked.

“oh, that. it’s… nothing, really. just… that i’ve had that for a long time.”

“since we…”

“it was going to be your birthday present.”

“and you never threw that away.”

“it’s made from the same material as ‘david’, i wasn’t just going to throw that away. or give it to someone who wouldn’t cherish it.”

“well… thank you. and congratulations on being a great driver, though… i don’t think the cameras will agree after seeing you pass here for the seventh time,” he said as she was making a right turn. 

“thanks. and i guess… i have to thank you, too. if we… if we’d never broken up i… i never would’ve become me.”

“that… hurt,” he admitted. “but i get it. i should also thank you. you… did so much for me, gave up so much that i… i guess i took you for granted. and it only took having you away from me to really know how much you did for me without me even noticing. so… thank you. and i like this new you. you seem… happy.”

“i am. but still… i can’t shake the feeling that i’m missing something.”

“what?”

“you. even though you made me grow up, i still feel like i need to have my teenage side, and… there’s so much i want to do, but new me is responsible, she’s proper, she’s professional. and sometimes, i get tired of all of it. you always made me feel like a kid, in the best way possible, you made me feel like everything was possible, that it’s okay to let loose and have an adventurous side. i need that, i miss that.”

“well, i’m staying here all month. and i’m more than happy to help you rediscover your wild side.”

“don’t say it like that,” she laughed.

“no, no, i didn’t mean it like that, but-” he chuckled, “i guess that offer stands, too.”

“not happening. not now, at least.”

“so there’s a chance?”

“i don’t know. we’ll have to see.”

“i know. here’s adventure number one: drive to the harbor.”

“the- why?” she asked, driving there, anyway.

“we’re about to take a midnight stroll,” he explained.

“okay, but…  why the harbor?”

“it’s not your typical stroll, we’re not the ones doing the walking.”

“then?”

“have you ever seen ‘sedici’?” he asked.

“what’s that?”

“my yacht.”

“a midnight boat ride?” she asked, a smile on her face.

“what do you say?”

“you better be a damn good captain as i am a driver,”

“you’d be surprised.”

“i’m ready to be surprised.”

[reyesstrand]

#9 for Tarlos please 🥰

thank you for the prompt! i hope you enjoy!! 💗

feel free to send me a number from this list. also available on ao3!

((tw: minor description of blood/injuries caused by a car accident)) 

Ever since he was a kid, he knew that it was hard to leave some calls at the scene.

Sometimes they lingered on the trip back to the firehouse, where a silence fell over the whole crew as nothing but dead air passed between their headsets. Other times, they dug in deeper, as if they were physical things with claws and teeth, refusing to be shaken off until something worse occupied their minds. He saw it enough with his dad when he was still a little too young to understand why he had to work such long hours; he saw it when the towers fell, and it was like he had to grow up overnight, practically set aflame at the thought that he could’ve lost his dad, like other kids lost their parents in a single moment.

TK doesn’t let that stop him from giving his all, though, even if that means he becomes too personally wedged into rescues.

It seems like it’s going to be a standard day, when they get the call from dispatch about a motor vehicle accident. The rest of the team seems to think the same thing—given the fact that they seemingly have no qualms about pushing him for the juicy details on his date night last night, only spurred on by the fact that Carlos had picked him up at the station yesterday afternoon and dropped him back off this morning.

“Come on, aren’t we supposed to be professionals here?” TK says, though he can barely get it out without smiling.

Immediately, voices erupt around him through his headset, all of them essentially calling his bullshit. Marjan smacks him in the shoulder. 

“Hey!” TK laughs, nudging her in the side with his elbow in retaliation. 

“If you spilled the details, maybe I’ll go easy on you,” Marjan says, cocking a brow, and TK rolls his eyes and barely suppresses a groan. 

“There’s nothing to tell?” TK tries, though he knows his lie is evident to all of them. 

“That hickey says otherwise,” Judd pipes up, and TK shoots him a glare. 

“Come on now, children,” his dad says, and TK huffs a little laugh. 

And then he looks out the window as the rig slows. 

“Shit,” Paul says, following TK’s line of vision. And, well, yeah. Because the road is a mess, various vehicles piled up. But it’s what’s at the heart of the accident that catches all of their attention: a semi-truck, tipped onto its side, with a dull grey car trapped underneath. 

“Okay, everyone, all hands on deck,” Owen says, all of them out of the truck the moment it comes to a full stop. They’re the first to the scene, only a few police cruisers trying to set up a barrier, and so he hears his dad yell to him that he’s on point for checking on the car driver. It’s all he needs to hear to immediately jump into action, even as his dad keeps shouting orders for Paul and Judd to grab the jaws and deal with the truck driver. 

He and Marjan move into a jog, hiking their gear up high on their shoulders. 

Once they get to the driver’s side of the car, TK knows it’s going to be a tough day. 

The driver is completely crushed under the weight of the steering column, the whole front of her car folded in like an accordion. There’s blood dripping from a gash on her forehead, and what looks to be a broken arm, and TK has only barely set eyes on her and he already doesn’t like the way she’s trying so hard to breathe. 

“Ma’am? My name’s TK, and this is Marjan, we’re AFD,” TK starts, the spiel coming out of his mouth without a second thought. Marjan clears the window of the sharp shards of broken glass, giving them more room to work; he meets her eyes and she nods, reaching down for her radio to call for the jaws and some extra hands. “Can you tell me your name?” 

“Rachel,” she gasps, and TK nods, pressing his fingers to her wrist that looks mostly uninjured for a pulse. It’s weak, but he tries to school his features so she can’t see his worry. 

“Marjan, we’re going to need to secure her neck, and once medical gets here we’re going to need to get her on oxygen,” he says, before meeting Rachel’s eyes. “Okay, Rachel, we’re getting you out of here. We just need a minute to secure you.” 

“Hurts to—breathe,” she stutters, and TK clenches his jaw. Marjan opens the backdoor of the car with a few good tugs, and slips into the seat, reaching around to place a neck brace on Rachel. 

“TK, tell me what’s going on.” 

His dad’s voice pulls him from listening to Rachel’s shallow breathing, and he responds: “Female driver, she’s completely pinned, Cap. Weak pulse, low BP—I need medical here now.” 

“They’re coming, maybe a minute out,” his dad says, sidling up to him. He looks through the car and meets TK’s eyes, both of them knowing how time sensitive this rescue is going to be. 

TK feels a little relieved when he sees Mateo arrive with a backboard, and Nancy and Tim trailing just steps behind him. Judd’s voice crackles through the radio, informing them that the truck driver’s only a little banged up. 

“Hey, Rachel, the paramedics are here now, okay?” TK says, though when she latches onto his arm, he squeezes her hand. “I won’t leave you.” 

She nods, looking at him with wide, scared eyes.

When Nancy gets the other side of the car open, pulling a nasal cannula from her bag and talking with Tim about her ABCs, TK keeps her looking at him. She looks like she’s going to drop any second, tears sliding through the grime on her cheeks, her breaths still too weak. 

“Hey, just talk to me,” TK says, his only thought to keep her awake. 

Rachel just starts crying harder. 

TK meets Nancy’s eyes from across the car, and feels Marjan at his side. “Hey, hey, Rachel. Listen to me. Do you have someone? Someone waiting for you at home?” 

“Lena,” she sniffles, her voice growing weaker. “We’re—we’re getting married in April.” 

“Tell me about her,” TK says, eyes pleading, barely registering the murmured conversation around them as a plan forms. 

“She’s always worrying about me, calls me a danger magnet,” she laughs wetly, and neither of them mention the blood that stains her lips. 

“Sounds like my boyfriend,” he tells her, and she meets his eyes, something hopeful presented in her gaze. “I got shot last year and burst my stitches a week later. He tells me all the time that I’m not allowed to go to the hospital again unless I want to send him to an early grave.”

Rachel smiles at him, faintly, and squeezes his hand. “She—she’s my best friend. I just want to see her again.” 

“You will,” TK says, before he can even think about what he’s promising. 

He steps back for a moment, being pulled into the plan from his dad. He’s left with the job of talking to Rachel, considering he’s made the most significant contact with her. 

TK takes a deep breath, and returns, frowning at her pained expression. “Okay, Rachel. We’re going to have to use some equipment to get you out, and I won’t lie to you, it’s going to hurt. But think of Lena, okay? I promise you that we’ll get you back to her.” 

“But my chest,” she groans, trying weakly to move against the weight pushing her down again. Both he and Nancy immediately reach out to settle her, hands on her shoulders. “I think I have a concussion, and—and it hurts. Everything hurts.”

“You’re going to see her, so soon,” TK promises, imagining what he’d want to hear if he were in her place. He thinks of Carlos, and knows he’d do anything if it meant getting home to him. “I swear to you. I will make sure you get home to her.” 

“TK,” Marjan whispers, and he meets her gaze before his eyes flit away. He knows what it means, to make impossible promises. But he fully intends on keeping this one. 

“Now, I’m going to count down from three, and me and my team are cutting you out of here, okay?” TK says, and she nods, eyes closing tight. “Think of Lena.” 

It’s a bit of a mess, once Owen starts them on the routine procedure, using the jaws and every tool they have to remove the driver’s door; to wedge her out from the steering column. Once she’s on the backboard and lifted onto the stretcher, they start losing her, and Tim immediately starts on compressions. 

TK holds his breath, staggering back against the car. Marjan squeezes his shoulder until they hear Nancy declare that she’s got a pulse. They rush her to the ambulance, and that’s supposed to be it. TK knows it. 

“Take a breather,” his dad says, cupping the back of his neck. TK nods, feeling exhaustion ache deep in his bones. “You did good, kid.” 

TK just nods again. Marjan knocks her shoulder into his before giving him some space, heading off to check the few witnesses still standing around for any superficial injuries. He ends up walking to somewhere private, which ends up being the back of the ladder truck, where he can lean against the paneling and keep himself upright. 

He doesn’t realize how out of it he feels until there’s hands gently cupping either side of his face, carefully tipping his head up. 

“Carlos?” TK’s voice sounds weak even to his own ears, and his boyfriend nods, looking concerned. 

“TK, are you okay?” Carlos asks, and it’s only when he drags his thumbs across TK’s cheeks and wipes away the tears there that TK realizes he’d even been crying. “Sweetheart...”

“I’m okay,” TK says, sniffing hard. “I swear. I’m just exhausted.”

He leans into Carlos’ touch, though, because he’s got his boyfriend here and doesn’t want to have to let him go just yet. 

He voices his desire, barely audible to anyone but his boyfriend. “Stay with me for a minute? I just need to—to get my head on straight.” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Carlos whispers, and TK sighs and drops his head to rest against Carlos’ chest. 

“Just—just a rough call,” he murmurs, mostly into Carlos’ uniform. He feels a hand carding through his hair, and settles under the touch. “I’m glad you’re here.” 

“I’ll be wherever you need me, Ty,” Carlos says, ducking down to press a kiss to the crown of TK’s head. “Always.” 

[imaginesandinserts]

Irreverent Pt. 19 - Interrogation

Title: Irreverent Pt. 19 - Interrogation Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: R Words: 4732

Irreverent Series Masterlist

While you all waited to figure out a plan to apprehend Doyle and bring down whatever nefarious plot your father was concocting, the team still had regular cases to attend to.

This time you'd found yourself getting called out to San Diego where there had been a rash of missing men in their late thirties to early forties and so far only one body had turned up.

"So, we're thinking female Unsub, right?" Derek asked, as the team was settling into the jet.

"Given the sexual assault evidence on the body found and the age of the victims, along with the fact that the eyes were gouged out, it would appear so, yes," Rossi affirmed, sitting down across from Hotch, leaving the seat across from you blissfully empty. You quickly shot him a grateful smile and stretched your legs to reach the other seat.

"Eye gouging is preferential to female Unsubs, with odds of a female Unsub being involved in the event of eye gouging to be 5:1," Reid piped in as he took a seat across from Morgan at the other end of the aisle.

Emily had rushed to occupy the large couch and you knew she was about to pass out as soon as the plane took off. The two of you had had a night of drinking wine at your place and had not been expecting the call to come in at 7am. You'd thanked your lucky stars that you'd thought to drink enough water and that you were still young enough to avoid the worst of hangovers as long as you took that precaution.

JJ was rummaging through the snack cabinets for Cheetos and you asked her to toss you a bag of chips to help settle your stomach.

"Here you go," JJ said, lobbing the bag of Lays at you while you were distracted with your seatbelt. You looked up to see the bag hurling towards your face and it would've reached its destination had Hotch's reflexes not helped his hand to leap out right in front of your face, preventing you from taking a hit. He gently placed it in your lap.

"Thanks, Hotch. Just for that, you can have some," you joked, opening the bag and offering him the first chip. He smiled at you and took two, causing you to giggle and roll your eyes. He'd been more lighthearted lately, something that was unexpected for you all. You'd think with Doyle hanging over your heads that Hotch would be even more grim than usual, but he had maintained a somewhat positive attitude - for him at least.  Even Emily had brought it up the night prior as the two of you sipped flutes of expensive champagne that Cedric had sent you in hopes to reconcile. It hadn't worked but it would be a crime not to drink it. "I wonder if Hotch is dating someone?" Emily had mused, suggestively raising her brows. You'd shot that down - you couldn't quite see him dating anyone yet.

The plane ride continued on with the team talking about the case and then everyone splitting off to do their own thing. You looked over to see Emily passed out on the couch as predicted. Seeing as you would be landing in a couple of hours and would be expected to push on full steam ahead, getting some sleep didn't seem like the worst idea. You turned towards the window and closed your eyes with Hotch still looking over the case files beside you.

As you slowly woke up while the plane was making its descent, you felt the warmth of a body next to you, before realizing you were holding onto someone's arm and burrowed into the side of the body that arm was attached to. Rossi noticed your eyes opening first and he shot you a smirk as the realization that you basically held Hotch hostage in your slumber caught up to you. The blood immediately rushed to your face as you moved away from Hotch and released your grip on his arm. How long had you been asleep like that? Why hadn't he just pushed you away back towards the window?

"Sorry," you mumbled to Hotch as he was now aware that you were awake.

He looked amused by your embarrassment. "Oh it's okay. Anytime." You could tell he hadn't meant to say the last bit because he quickly looked away, busying himself with gathering his stuff. Rossi looked suspiciously smug. You made a mental note to ask Hotch about that later.

Hotch had been the bearer of Rossi's smugness while you slept. The Italian man hadn't stopped throwing him looks the second you'd moved away from the window and grabbed his arm like it was a pillow.

"Stop that," he'd muttered, not meeting Rossi's eyes, instead choosing to look at you as you slept, tucked into him, looking smaller and more innocent than ever before.

"I didn't say anything." The mirth in his voice was infuriating.

"You didn't have to."

Hotch just shook his head in disapproval. Rossi had asked him about you before. Out of everyone on the team, he was perhaps the only one who had caught on to Hotch's true feelings towards you, which he stifled on a daily basis. Hotch had denied it of course. It wasn't appropriate - your positions, your age difference - no matter how cute you looked as you clutched his arm tight to your body.

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

It had been a rough case as you worked against the clock to identify the Unsub. The latest victim, Justin Chambers, a single father to a little girl, had been taken from his home. Based on what you knew of the disappearance of the only victim whose body you had found, the Unsub kept the victims for 48 hours before disposing of them. You were already into hour 24.

You knew the Unsub was female, in her thirties, and based on the evidence of assault, you had a working profile that she was single or recently divorced. Reid had built a geographic profile based on the location of where the one body had been found and where the other men had gone missing from.

You looked over the details of all the missing victims again and you were all getting frustrated. Morgan and Prentiss were canvassing the neighborhood where the last man had gone missing while the rest of the team was trying to figure out anything else about the Unsub that could narrow down the search.

You stood up to grab another cup of coffee - you had to be stealthy because JJ was ready to cut you off after your last one. As you walked to the break room, you saw Hotch there, getting a refill as well.

"Any luck?" he asked, as he saw you walk in purposefully to the coffee pot.

"Nope"

But, as you reached for the pot, he suddenly moved it out of reach.

"What're you doing?" you asked, annoyed at being denied your caffeine fix despite the little twitch you'd started to develop in your left eyelid.

"JJ said you're cut off," he smirked at you, relishing the game of deprive-Y/N-of-coffee.

"JJ isn't the boss of me!" you said, narrowing your eyes, trying to swipe the pot from him but he moved it further than you could reach without tackling him. And that would be taking it too far. Right? Tackling your boss for coffee was frowned upon in most professional settings, you were sure. Then again, most professional bosses wouldn't deprive a good worker of their caffeine fix.

"Ugh, whatever. Be that way."

He merely raised his eyebrows looking amused at you giving up so quickly.

But as you looked at Hotch, you had a thought. Hotch could tell you had had a realization as you wordlessly walked back to the conference room where the team had been set up.

"Hey Garcia, all the victims, they had girlfriends or wives right?" you asked, directed at the screen Garcia had occupied since you all had setup.

"Yes, they did."

"Can you pull them up?"

"One second." The screen was quickly populated by driver's license pictures of women in their mid twenties. You knew what the trigger was.

"They're all young, y/h/c, and petite. Garcia, that list of suspects, narrow it down to just the ones who've been divorced before, what does that give you?"

"We go down from 250 to 100. Still not narrow enough."

"Narrow it further by women whose previous partners are now remarried."

"40"

"Remove any of the ones whose exes married a woman above the age of thirty."

"Leaves 5."

"Dammit, okay. Can you pull up pictures of all the new wives?"

"Yeah, here you go."

As you looked at the five new pictures, your eye was caught by the third woman, whose face most closely matched the victims' girlfriends.

"The third one, is she pregnant?"

"Yes! Omg how did you know?"

"Who's the ex-wife of that girl's husband?"

"Carol Conway."

"That's her, that's the Unsub."

Hotch and Reid had followed your train of thought, agreeing that the marriage of the ex to a new, younger wife, with whom he was now expecting the child the Unsub never got, was the secondary trigger.

Hotch called in the address to the others as you all quickly put on vests and headed towards the Unsub's rental property, which was the most likely location. "That was quick thinking in there," Hotch praised as you adjusted the radio to dial into the police frequency. "Thanks." You wanted to avoid telling him what made you think of it. You didn't want to tell him that it had been inspired by the thought of him - an older man - with you - and the reactions that would garner from people. Something told you Hotch wouldn't like hearing that you'd thought of the two of you in that light.

Due to traffic, by the time you guys made it there, Morgan and Prentiss had already gone in and subdued the Unsub. As you and Hotch walked towards the house, Morgan was walking a handcuffed Carol Conway to a squad car. You happened to make eye contact with her, and then watched as her gaze moved to Hotch. The look in her eyes made you felt a roll of disgust go through you, and you were happy to see her being put into the back of the cop car.

After the team was back at the police station, Reid and Rossi were going to take the interrogation, with the aim of discovering the location of the other bodies.

You, Hotch, Morgan, and Prentiss stood on the other side of the mirror as Rossi and Reid tried to get her to spill by taunting her with her jealousy, but it didn't appear to be working. She kept looking straight ahead, entirely disengaged.

As Reid and Rossi exited unsuccessfully, you all turned back to the drawing board, knowing that finding the bodies of the victims was crucial. You began to think of a way to break her.

While everyone else was talking, your thoughts went back to how you'd initially identified her.

"Uh oh, you got thinky face on." Derek's voice drew you out of your thoughts, and you saw the others still arguing over the best course of action. Derek must've sensed your hesitation in voicing your idea, so he quickly got everyone to quiet down. All eyes were on you.

You cleared your throat, "When Morgan was walking Carol to the squad car, I noticed that she looked at Hotch." You turned to look directly at him - apology painted on your face. "I think we stand a chance by using you. Dangling what she can't have in front of her face again - showing it be stolen by someone else."

Hotch looked a little embarrassed but nodded along in understanding. "You'll have to come in with me. You look the most like the girlfriends and you're the right age."

"Yeah, okay. Let's do this."

As you got to the door to the interrogation room, you took a deep breath. "Hey, Hotch, when we get in there, pull out my chair, okay?"

"You have a plan, I'm guessing?"

"Oh yeah, I definitely have a plan."

"Alright, then I'll follow your lead."

As he opened the door and allowed you in first, you got to see Carol's eyes widen as she got a glimpse of Hotch entering the room. You could've sworn her pupils dilated.

Hotch got to the chair to the left and pulled it out for you. You were about to put on a show. You did your best to flounce into the chair, and smiled sweetly at Hotch. "Thanks honey."

You immediately caught Carol's face turning towards you. Gotcha

Hotch began to interrogate her again, trying to plead to her humanity. He reminded her of the children and families left behind of the victims - those who deserved closure.

You made sure to channel your inner mean girl and kept a permanent smirk on your face, staring down Carol.

After much talking from Hotch, you decided enough was enough. Lights, camera, action.

"You've never had a man that was yours before, have you Carol?" That earned you an angry glare from the Unsub.

You stood up and walked past Hotch, trailing a hand across his shoulders as you came to stand behind Carol. You leaned in close to her ear, knowing that would be your best option at getting a reaction, and then made direct eye contact with Hotch. She noticed.

"Carol, have you ever had a man look at you like he wants you? Like you're the only thing he wants?" Your voice was low and soft. "I don't think you have. If you had you wouldn't be able to settle for a man you have to coerce."

"I didn't -" she began to deny again, but you weren't about to let her.

"But you did Carol. And I get it. It must be hard, it must've been hard when you were discarded by Ted because he thought the sex wasn't good. You felt old, used up, especially when he traded you in for a younger model."

You noted the tension in her shoulders and her controlled shallow breathing. She was hanging onto your every word. You made eye contact with Hotch again, knowing you were reflected in the mirror for Carol to see.

"Have you ever had a man press you up against a wall because he had to have you right then and there, Carol?" You adjusted your hair, careful to wet your lips casually, before continuing, "You see, I don't think you have, because if you'd seen the way he looks right before he enters you - if you'd ever seen the way his face looks when he's lost in you, like you're the only thing that matters - if you'd ever seen the way his voice gets deeper and harsher as he fucks into you and the face he makes when he comes inside you knowing that's the only thing he ever wants to do - if you'd seen all that from a man, there's no way you'd have forced them Carol." You slowly moved to stand upright and walk back to the other side, coming to stand right behind Hotch. Placing a hand on his shoulder, you look right at Carol before finishing, "Because nothing else compares."

She broke then and began to cry.

"Where are the other bodies Carol? Tell us," you asked, ignoring her tears. Hotch was tense beneath your touch, waiting for an answer.

Her voice came out choked and breathy. "By the riverbed, in front of the old warehouse."

You knew the team heard and would now be organizing a search for the bodies. Your hand was still on Hotch's shoulder, so you quickly removed it, and walked out of the room, eager to put as much distance as possible between the two of you. That had been crossing a line, of some sort, you just weren't sure which one.

Hotch couldn't believe that had just happened. When you'd gotten up and started talking to Carol, he hadn't been sure of the approach. But then she hung on to every word. Hotch found himself hanging onto every word too. When you made eye contact with him, he felt a jolt of need shoot through him. As you described sex - really good sex - to Carol, all his mind did was picture pushing you against a wall, fucking you, coming inside you. And then you'd come back around and touched him and it was a miracle he hadn't groaned out loud. In an interrogation room. With an Unsub as witness.

Hotch slowly got up and walked out of the room just to see you walking away. He made the unfortunate mistake of making eye contact with Rossi, who was just outright laughing at him now.

He was screwed.

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

You hadn't talked to Hotch directly since the interrogation of Carol Conway. You'd walked away feeling incredibly embarrassed at how you'd coerced a confession. While it had been a good idea and had worked, you feared you'd gone too far in the heat of the moment. You hadn't been able to resist looking right at him and describing scenes you'd only dreamt of. You were a bit of a hypocrite for having taunted Carol that way. Sex like that - it only existed when you were by yourself and imagining it.

Unfortunately, your interesting technique had opened the floodgates for Derek and Emily to start playing Dirty Truth or Truth on the plane ride back. The two of them together were a lethal combination of impulsivity and lack of boundaries. Derek had dialed in Penelope so she could also join in, knowing she'd be upset at having missed this.

You listened to Emily describe her sexual encounter with a couple back in her college days, in response to JJ's question on threesomes. You could feel yourself getting embarrassed but knew that you were the reason this was even the topic at hand. Hotch had quickly and smartly excused himself from the conversation, citing the need to make a dent in his unending pile of paperwork. As you had no such excuse, you were not able to make as easy of an escape.

You were dreading a question landing on you that you couldn't just give a quick no to. While you were okay flirting and teasing and talking about sex in a general sense, talking about your own sexual exploits was a whole different thing. You knew that the team expected you to be the wild child when it came to all this, and so far your response to the questions around threesomes and public sex had been received with some amount of disappointment.

Hotch was trying to focus on the casework but he couldn't help himself from tuning in to the raucous conversation the rest of you were engaged in, especially anytime you answered a question. Rossi had sat down across from him, a shit-eating grin permanently stuck on his face.

As everyone settled down after Emily's story, it was Penelope's turn to ask. "Hmmm," she twirled a lock of her hair and gave Derek bedroom eyes. "How many knotches has everyone got on their bedpost?" That question was definitely geared at Derek as she'd voiced being curious about it a while back, but you'd all be answering it.

Spencer elected to get it out of the way and quickly said, "Three, and no Morgan, I'm not telling you who they were."

Derek laughed, before motioning towards JJ and Emily to go next.

"Honestly, I have no idea. My lost year was more of a lost decade," she said, laughing and shooting you a quick teasing wink.

"Seven," JJ said while popping a cheeto into her mouth. You looked to gauge Spencer's reaction and you could see his face fall just a bit.

All eyes were turned to you, as whatever Derek's answer would be was the one Penelope would focus on and drag out.

You sighed, but knew you didn't want to lie. "Two," you quickly mumbled, hoping if you said it fast enough you'd all just move on to Derek and it would be over.

But of course you don't have that kind of luck.

"Wait, what? No no, that doesn't make sense. You were New York's top party girl," Emily asked, looking shocked and disbelieving.

"Yeah, well," you trailed off shrugging.

"You're telling me Reid's banged more people than you, Y/N? Come on!" Derek groaned, knowing that Spencer would be ecstatic at not being the lowest anymore.

"Wait, who were they? Please tell me you didn't pass up the chance to sleep with that Cedric boy - he was fine!" Garcia's voice crackled loudly through the tablet speakers.

"My ex-fiancé, Matthew, and then just one other guy - a friend - during my time in New York who I see on occasion," you explained, your cheeks aflame.

"Wait, New York was over four years ago, so you're telling me you haven't met anyone new since…," Emily's voice trailed off as they all looked at you.

You decided to try and laugh it off. "What can I say Em, I'm a bit of a prude when it comes to actually sleeping with someone."

"Huh." You could feel her judging you. You knew Emily had felt closer to you when you'd both been grouped under the Wild Child Exploits label.

"Alright, well my turn then," Derek began, sensing your discomfort and drawing everyone's attention towards him. He was good like that.

You decided to get up and grab a drink instead of listen to Derek regale everyone with tales of the multiple women he'd taken home with him. As you rummaged through the mini fridge at the back, you felt someone's presence behind you. Turning, you saw Hotch standing in the aisle, looking a bit concerned.

"You okay?" He moved to grab something from the snack cabinets to disguise your conversation from the others.

"You heard that, did you? I thought you were too mature for such games with colleagues," you teased. He just looked at you expectantly, still waiting for an answer.

"Yeah, I just, yeah, it's fine, don't worry about it." You fidgeted with the sparkling water bottle you'd grabbed. You just wanted to get back to your seat and sleep the rest of the plane ride home.

"You can ask, you know. I don't mind playing if its just us" He smiled at you gently, giving you permission. The double entendre of his words also wasn't lost on you. It sent butterflies through your stomach.

"I don't have to," you replied, a sad smile making its way onto your face. You knew it was just Haley for him.

"It's okay to be picky about that kind of stuff. Save it for people who are special."

You looked up into his eyes and there was something there. Something deeper. Something darker, secret. Maybe Emily was right and he was dating someone.

You swallowed, before simply nodding and making your way back to your seat, feeling his eyes on you. His look didn't make you feel uncomfortable though. As you settled down back into your seat and met his eyes again across the way, you realized that you didn't mind his gaze at all - on the contrary, it made you feel achingly desired.

You found yourself really hoping Emily was wrong.

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

Hotch was burning the midnight oil once again as Jack was with Jess and he hadn't wanted to wake either of them late. With JJ poached by the CIA, his paperwork had doubled easily. It was nearly 11pm by the time he noticed how quiet the building had gotten. The bullpen was empty and his eyes wandered to your desk - neat and tidy with your chair pushed in. Compared to yours, Prentiss's looked like a paper bomb had exploded over it.

"You got time for a drink?" Rossi had popped in with a bottle of scotch and two glasses.

Hotch smiled and beckoned him in, meeting him at the couch. "What're you still doing here?"

"I thought I'd see how long you like to stay, but I think I've hit my limit for waiting," he said, handing Hotch a glass.

They clinked their glasses and then sat down on Hotch's couch. The quiet in the office at night was something Hotch always relished and it was nice to share that with someone. But he had a feeling that Dave wasn't there just to have a drink together, so he waited, allowing him to speak.

"Aaron, have you dated since Haley?"

Hotch's eyes focused on the same point on the opposite end that you usually looked at when he asked you difficult questions. "You know I haven't."

"Do you feel ready to?" Dave observed him over the rim of his glass, the amber liquid casting a glow around his hand.

Hotch contemplated that. It had been a while since Haley's death and even longer since their divorce. In the final days of their marriage, he'd known Haley was seeing another man. Out of guilt at having forced her into an affair, he'd never asked her the nature of the relationship. Truth be told, he'd been ready not too long after the divorce, but dating required time - something Hotch never seemed to have enough of to give. Haley's death hadn't felt like the death of his ex-wife. It had felt like the death of his life partner - he'd always thought that no matter what they were, at least he'd always have her because of Jack. Jack was doing better though and had been for a while. Hotch himself had grieved and taken time and he didn't dream about her every night anymore.

He looked up to see Dave observing him carefully. Hotch knew he was being profiled right now, but it was Dave so he chose not to mind so much. He matched Dave's gaze then and with a slight uplift of his mouth, he revealed, "Yes, I think I am."

"That's good Aaron." Rossi seemed pleased by the admission. "So why aren't you asking Y/N out?"

And there it was. Hotch shook his head at Rossi's question. "Dave, come on, you know why."

"No, can't say I do. She's smart, attractive, accomplished. She has fire - I know you know that. Jack loves her and she's great with him. She has the same job as you, so she'd understand the time constraints and the emotional toll the job can have. I can't think of a single reason why you shouldn't ask her. Especially since you've been in love with her for quite some time now."

"I'm not in -" Hotch started to say but stopped as Dave rose his eyebrows.

"Don't do that Aaron. Don't lie to me even if you're lying to yourself and everyone else."

Hotch's voice took on a tortured quality as he spoke next, the glass of scotch in his hand long forgotten. "She's so young, Dave. She's got her whole life ahead of her - she would have no problem getting a guy her own age - a guy that's better. She deserves that."

"But what if she doesn't want them?"

"You heard her father, Dave - men who go after women that young - lecherous old men - that's what he called them. That's what he called me."

Dave sighed, feeling sorry for the man in front of him. "And how would she feel knowing that those words - words that she spoke up against immediately, words that forced her to finally cut her father out of her life - what if she knew that those were the words holding you back from her. How would she feel knowing her father was able to have that control over you - over her?"

Hotch felt the burden of shame that Dave's words had bestowed upon him. He was right. You would be furious that he had let your father get to him.

"Think about it Aaron. Don't deny yourself happiness because you're worried what other people might think. Pretty sure its up to her to decide what she deserves."

[twistedblud]

FINE LINE SERIES

Part 1: Adore You

pairing: dom x female!reader

description: a couple who fell in love and got married — very young and now with a kid. always told they were young and naïve. where did they go wrong?

warning(s): a hint of fluff, the tiniest bit of angst? just a moment of vulnerability is all. nothing too big coming up until the third part! 

a/n: my first series and i’m kindaaa nervous haha. but if you like it i’d appreciate if you left a comment, like, or reblog. it helps a lot. also, lyrics won’t be in exact order, just whenever they relate to the descriptions.

series masterlist & series playlist

“Y/N! He’s here! Up, let’s go!” Antonio called out. You huffed, only audible to yourself, at the words coming from your boss’ mouth and quickly got up from the seat at the vanity. You got your station prepped, making sure everything from the powder to the eyeliner were present. You couldn’t afford to be back and forth between the stock room looking for anything you may have missed. 

A few more hours. 

A few more hours.

After this shoot you leave, Y/N.

It had been a busy Thursday afternoon with Antonio and the first shift staff at your work, throwing out demands on top of demands. Now it was just after one in the afternoon and you were over the day. Antonio’s assistant, Tia, somehow spilled a coffee all over your precious denim jacket, which resulted in you taking an early break, frantically trying to find something else to cover up with. 

Thankfully, a new girl on the job happened to have a spare bomber jacket, not hesitating to lend it to you.

The day had went on and the team rushed around, making sure to prep the snacks for whichever artist they had coming in soon. Honestly, you hadn’t paid much attention at the meeting which discussed the artist and their vision for the project. You remember briefly hearing something about a Dominic, and him being from somewhere the UK.

You spent the minutes before the talent arrived on a conversation with your fellow co-workers, not being able to see your best friend at the job, as she always worked the shift after you.

Tia rushed over to your work space, closed off from the actual set, where photos were taken. “He’s here Y/N. Antonio says to make sure everything is ready please.” you nod, forming a fraudulent smile at the young girl before she walked away, but not before almost running into a group of men. You met the eyes of the guy in the middle of the group, being greeted with a warm smile. You returned it, not wanting to be completely rude but also wondering who he was.

I get so lost inside your eyes.

The mystery man stopped one of the staff members speeding past and whispered something. The staff member pointed directly at you before the man thanked her, and walked away. He made his way over to your station and paused directly in front of your figure. You took note of his dyed hair, the blue and pink streaks roaming freely throughout his head. 

“I was directed over here...Y/N right? You’re doin’ my makeup?” the man spoke, a heavy accent rolling off of his tongue. You nod slowly, not breaking eye contact with the man. He shot you a comforting smile, stripping out of his leather jacket, dropping it in the arms of a person in the group he walked in with. “Hold this for me, yeah? N’don’t spill anything on it like last time. M’begging you Adam,” Dom asked the guy before him-now identified as Gavin.

“I’m Dominic but feel free to call me Dom. Actually, I’d prefer if you called me Dom,” He rambled out. You try not to laugh at his introduction as you watched his, only what you could presume team, walk away and find seats near the snack area.

You motion to the seat in front of the mirror, allowing Dom to take a seat, watching him get settled. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it before beginning to type away on it. Already having the essentials laid out before you two your eyes land on the eyeliner, along with the eyeshadow palette. You took note of the earthy tones and tried to brainstorm. It was your job to envision a look. It was your job to execute the look.

And it was your job to satisfy not only your boss Antonio, but Dom and his team as well. You couldn’t afford to have any complaints against you, especially given this was your only source of income.

You grab the top and side of the chair Dom was sitting in, drumming your fingers along the chipped wood as you stared at him through the mirror. You studied his stoic eyes, his basically-average nose, and even down to his lips. His lips were his most prominent feature, his hair coming in a close second. You hear the sound of his phone locking and he set his phone down into his lap. Dom looks up into the mirror and made immediate eye contact with you. You blinked frantically, breathing out and breaking the eye contact.

“Can I ask what the staring match was for?,” Dom questioned you, and you look back at him in the mirror. “I like to visualize. Just mix and match the possible looks.” Dom nodded in understanding. You continued, “It may seem weird but it helps. I swear,” Dom reached forward to grab a stray piece of plastic off the surface in front of him and began fiddling with it. 

“I understand Y/N. Forgot I work in the music industry myself?” Dom questioned you and you laughed. “Hey, I didn’t completely forget Dom. I just...suck at remembering things, especially here” you vent out to him. 

“S’okay. We all forget things sometimes, yeah?”

You hum out a quick “mhm” and tilt your head to the side as the perfect concept for Dom’s look comes to mind. Realizing that you subconsciously leaned part of your weight on the chair where he sat during your conversation, you push yourself back up and move to the front of the station, moving to get everything opened.

Dom watched you intently as you opened the eyeliner, making sure it was good. “You don’t mind?,” Dom randomly asked, you looking up to meet his eyes in the mirror once again. “Sorry, meant the eyeliner. The eyeshadow. You don’t mind putting it on me?”

You turn to face Dom with the eyeliner in hand and used your left hand to slightly tilt his head back. You move that same hand to the side of his left cheek, holding it there, as you began to bring the eyeliner toward his waterline. “I don’t mind it all, actually,” you slightly frown, “Why do you ask?”

“It’s just...people? The close-minded ones. Always judging me for wearing certain products or clothes.” You watched his eyes move to look down at his lap, Dom beginning to pick at his jeans. “Mostly get weird looks from other stylists in the industry for my interest in this kinda stuff. Not to mention the trolls online. It makes me...”

“Well it’s sexy to me. Any guy who can rock eyeliner and eyeshadow? A win to me.” Dom’s eyes went slightly wide, a goofy smile forming on his face. You simply stroked your thumb along his cheek, in a friendly manner, before beginning to apply the eyeliner.

---

Dom noticed you packing the last of your stuff into your purse, pleading with his team for a few more minutes. His convincing finally worked, but when he turned to your station, you were gone. The next shift of staff members piled in, taking your place at the station you once occupied. Dom let out a huff, running a hand through his wild hair. He wondered how you left so quick. But more importantly where you were.

Your lipstick had managed to slip out your purse in the process of you shoving everything in there, your coffee-stained jacked peaking out from the top. Dom noticed it on the floor and immediately picked it up. He briefly read the label: NYX Matte Lipstick in the shade Strawberry Daiquiri. Dom connected the dots, it now making sense that when you two were interacting, he smelled a frequent aroma of strawberry overpowering vanilla.

Strawberry lipstick state of mind.

“You can try the sidewalk. Y/N usually waits for her Uber there.” A voice snuck up behind Dom. He turned around to see a girl before him. She was only a tad bit shorter than him and slim, her skin a reddish-brown. A septum piercing stood out through her fuller nose, along with a simple nose piercing on her left side of her nose.

Dom realized he hadn’t replied back to the girl and shook his head, hoping she hadn’t noticed. Instead he cleared his throat, resting his hand on his hip, pushing back the jacket he had on. “How rude of me. Thank you!” Dom exclaimed, eyebrows furrowing as he looked around at the various exits, wondering which was quick to find you. The girl pointed to a door across from them. Dom thanked her again and headed toward the door but stopped in his tracks, turning around to the same girl who had been a help just moments before.

“Sick piercings by the way.”

----

Three more minutes. 

You looked down at your phone screen, tracking your Uber driver and his navigation as he reached closer to you. You waited in anticipation, finally relieved that your workday had come to an end and soon, you’d finally be in the comfort of your own home. You smiled at the thought of curling up on your sofa with a glass of wine, watching the newest episode of Grey’s Anatomy, with your puppy curled up by your feet.

Until then you waited on the sidewalk, swaying back and forth on the heels of your feet. You contemplated opening up the app Candy Crush to kill time, but the thoughts were interrupted, when you heard footsteps approaching you rather quickly. You squinted, barely made out who the figure was.

Dom halted in front of you, nearly crashing into you. You grabbed the side of his arms to help prevent him from plowing you over. He was audibly out of breath, huffs coming from his mouth. “Y/N...you left your, uh, lip stuff on the floor?” He handed you your beloved NYX lipstick. 

I'd walk through fire for you

You graciously thank him, “Holy shit, thank you Dom! Didn’t even realize I dropped it.” Your smile was small, yet still contagious, Dom fidgeting as you both hear the chime on your phone which signaled that your Uber was just around the corner.

You make out a quick goodbye, not realizing he had more to say. “Wait! If you’re not too busy, I was wondering if you maybe wanted to go out? Maybe this weekend? I know, shit, this is very weird and sudden but, I just wanted to ask-”

Just let me adore you

You giggled at his rambling and grabbed his hand, guiding him off of the sidewalk and near a random building, and away from you referred to it as, sidewalk rush hour.

Dom groaned in what you could only assume was embarrassment, slowly letting go of your hand, when you had finally worked up an answer to give him.

“I think I know what you’re trying to ask, and I’d love to, actually.”

Like it's the only thing I'll ever do.

Taglist: @wallows-spring

Part 2 will be linked here when it is published! And comment to be added to the taglist!

[caffeinatedtimdrake]

Just saw your latest prompt list :) how about no 11 “Hold on, you died.” “Yeah, well it didn’t stick” for Jason? Maybe he and the reader used to be a vigilante team when he was still Robin and now they’re reunited when he’s back as Red Hood? :)

ahhh ilysm I hope you like it!! about 1.5k of Jason x Reader fluff. sorry for the wait! (p.s. the reader’s vigilante name is going to be Claw and i’m sorry if that sounds silly and i agonized over it for a while but i only had so many  options for a former Catwoman trainee)

11. “Hold on, you died.” “Yeah, well it didn’t stick.” 

“Red Hood is Jason?! What?! That’s who I’m working with tonight?” You nearly shriek, tumbling into the alley in the same way that you’re tumbling into disbelief. 

A sharp stab of pain grazes your bicep, a blade whipping past your face and landing firmly on the wall across from you. 

“Claw, move!” Oracle’s voice crackles forcefully in your ear and you’re jolted back into reality. 

A rush of adrenaline cascades down your spine, propelling you down the alley and over a chain-link fence. 

“W-where do you want me?” You warble breathlessly, hoisting yourself onto the fire escape and charging up the stairs to the rooftop of the dilapidated apartment building. 

“Perpendicular, on the grocery store. Red Hood is getting there.” 

You hear his voice and it makes you a little dizzy as you wind up a grappling hook. “Headed over now.” 

The name is burned into your mind as you stealthily launch yourself over the edge of the building because it echoes with the ghost of a boy who was a young hero, a bright flame, and a victim to a cruel fate. You can maneuver past the bewilderment enough to feel the first inkling of agitation because everyone on your team failed to mention that you’d be dismantling a drug ring with a young man you’d formerly believed to be dead. You didn’t need all the grisly details of his reincarnation, but a warning might have been nice.

You land on the roof of the grocery store with a thud – who would have thought diapers could hide copious quantities of illegal drugs? – and you roll to soften the impact, gravel piercing the gash across your arm. 

Red Hood pops up near the edge, agile yet rugged in the way he flips onto the rough and approaches you. He’s stepping lightly on the roof, but you feel as though he’s applying pressure to your chest, sharp and aching. He stops in front of you and you dig your nails into your palm, eyes wide beneath your mask. 

Rather than a warm welcome to the living world, like melting ice, you whisper-yell, “Hold on, you died.”

His face is hidden beneath a heavily armored red, but you can hear the bitter smile in his voice. “Yeah, well, it didn’t stick.”  

“Focus, kids.” Nightwing lands on the roof gracefully. 

You swallow hard and turn away from Red Hood. “What’s the plan?” 

“Claw, enter through the vent on the east side. Artemis is waiting for you in there. Red, you and I are taking a stroll down the stairs.” 

“Where’s Robin?” The title is strange on your tongue. Now it means Tim, but for a long time, it translated to Jason Todd. 

Dick flashes a charming smile. “Keeping our friends who tailed you occupied.” 

You squint, ambling towards the edge of the building. “Is that supposed to be a pun?” 

“You used to be Catgirl. I don’t think it’s unreasonable.” 

Your tone is flat. “I think we should focus on the present moment, not the past.”  

“Agreed.” Red Hood.

You almost want to tell Red Hood, except for you, but prodding into his recent past would have to wait. There were lives at stake then and there are lives at stake now.

The mission goes off without a hitch. The team receives bountiful intel on the gang’s connections, you help them kick butt, and Tim safely destroys the drugs. Nightwing congratulates the team with a beam as you stand around the Batcave, thrilled with the success of the mission. 

“Same time next week?” 

“You’re funny, Grayson.” Artemis grumbles.

“I’m just kidding. Crime doesn’t have a schedule.” 

She groans and shifts the bow on her shoulder, bidding everyone a good night. 

“I should head out too.” You say quietly. You haven’t taken your mask off yet and you can feel the Kevlar chaffing the skin on your cheek a little. 

“Thanks for all your help, Y/N.” Barbara tells you earnestly. 

“Yeah, Y/N.” Nightwing pipes up, shuffling some papers. “You’re the best,”

“Anytime.” You shrug, bashful because Jason is looking over at you and you’re still unaccustomed to all the handsome, rugged angles of his face across the five-o-clock shadow and calculating, celestial eyes.

You’re halfway outside when you hear his voice, like a warm, gentle hand against your cheek. “Let me give you a ride.”

You freeze. “Do you even have a driver’s license?” 

He laughs low in his throat, a sound that makes your skin flush. You turn around slowly and pinch the inside of your wrist because he’s arching an eyebrow and smiling at you crookedly, startlingly alluring in a way you hadn’t know before. 

“Do you always follow the rules?” 

You think about the toaster and the coffeemaker you had in your dorm room and how you used to steal bananas from the cafeteria and all the evenings you spent with Jason after curfew, out on patrol or eating sandwiches on rooftops. 

You purse your lips. “I will not get on that motorcycle.”

“I WILL NOT GET ON THIS MOTORCYCLE EVER AGAIN.” You shriek as Jason pivots left, night air heavy and adrenaline heavy in your bones. 

Jason laughs, simply accelerating.

You cling tighter to his waist and bury your face in that weathered jacket, mint and Cherrywood. 

It doesn’t make much sense that you’re scared by a motorcycle ride considering your expertise in jumping off of buildings and into life-threatening ordeals, but you’re hurtling towards your apartment complex – towards home with a boy turned man who once felt like home and that leaves you feeling unsettled. 

It might be three years or three minutes until the motorcycle crawls to a stop in front of the bricked building. Regardless, your eyes are still squeezed shut and your limbs are still squeezed tightly around his body several moments after the roaring motor quiets to steady rumble. 

“Next time, I’m driving.” You say breathily, cracking open your eyes and slowly relaxing your limbs. 

“Oh? There’s going to be a next time? In that case, let me tote you around in a kiddie wagon.” 

Your giggle is a wheezy sound and Jason has to help you off the seat because your body feels like one giant, overcooked noodle. You kind of despise the way your skin tingles when he places a hand on the small of your back, but you can’t help the sentiment of serenity his steady touch brings you. 

A lump forms in your throat when he drops his hand, trailing for maybe a second too long against your waist. 

“May I?” He then raises his fingers to the same level as your cheekbones and you nod slowly, flushing deeply as he hooks his thumb beneath the edge of your mask. His rough fingers drag against the soft curve of your face and you can’t quite breathe as he lifts the taut Kevlar above your forehead because he touches you with an intimacy you’ve never known, like earth and ocean and stardust. 

You can’t stop gazing at him and Jason can’t seem to tear his eyes from the haunted look in yours. Swimming in sharp cognizance, he sees a world of unanswered questions and unrelieved longing. His hands cup your face now, holding you like you’re the most delicate of flowers, and he looks at you so intensely, he doesn’t think he could ever forget the slope of your nose or the curl of your mouth, lifetime after lifetime. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner. I was…looking for myself. I still kind of am.” Jason tells you, mouth pulling into a tiny frown. 

You shrug. “It’s okay, Jason. Coming back from the dead is probably a little overwhelming.”

He snorts. “You have no idea.” He pauses for a moment, glancing at you hesitantly through his lashes. 

“What is it?” 

“Is it silly if I ask for a hug?” 

This wrenches a peal of borderline hysterical laughter from your chest and he blushes. 

“I’ve heard sillier things.” You open your arms and he nearly falls into your embrace, engulfing you in the scent of a spring morning and an autumn evening. He feels like home.

It’s funny that you two still fit together so well, after all these years of life and death, but it makes Jason wonder if you and he were always meant to be like this. 

“Whelmed?” You chirp. 

“Dick isn’t even here, don’t let him mess up this moment.”  

“It’s a fair question.”

“The answer is no. I will always be overwhelmed unless I can get at least one Y/N hug per day.” 

You tighten your arms around him and sigh happily. “That can be arranged.”

(What neither you nor Jason know is that Dick slapped a bug to Jason’s jacket to keep tabs on you two. He and Barbara were currently cheering from the Batcave, already planning double dates.)

[chalabrun]

What if Charlie and Bee went on a roadtrip together?? No worries for a good few days, just the two of them and (maybe) a map as Charlie shows Bee some of the most beautiful places in the USA. (Also, I love your blog and the fact you ship Charbee!!)

Sorry for the wait, friend, but I hope you like this! (And don’t mind the Charliebee family inclusion heh)

Warning(s): G, none

“Ithink I’m gonna ask him, Red. To be Conjunx Enderae with me.”

Forthe last several hours, it’d been just her and Stingray on the openroad. There wasn’t anything unusual about it, because it meant hedidn’t require a holoform driver to give the appearance ofnormalcy. And…he was her son. They were family. Of course theycould keep themselves together while Bee went on his mission,promising to meet them in the Motel 56 they were staying at in SilverSprings, Arizona—right on the cusp of the Grand Canyon she sworeshe could see glimpses of in the right amount of sunlight.

Thatnight, late at midnight, she and Stingray sat restively in a copse oftrees in a pinewood forest skirting the borders of the small town.What seemed to be more buildings clustered in a dense forest split bya single, main road was enough for them to be able to slip awayunseen. Through the nexus of needled branches could Charlie seespinning nebulae and a sky spangled in an endless tapestry of stars.With the air dry but pleasantly warm, it was a nice night for them tobe out.

“ConjunxEndurae? You mean, like married?” the young transformer broached,Charlie perched on his plated scarlet calf.

Charliefelt a hot flush creep up her neck, barely able to avoid Stingray’sinnocuous, curious blue optics. “I— I mean, when you put it likethat, as a person, it—yeah,” she deflated in a brief concession,knowing it was better to tell her son outright.

Herson. And here she thought she’d never settle down as fast assome of her classmates were out the gate already. But here she was,on a summer road trip with what was her son in the eyes ofCybertronian culture, no labor pains necessary. A being that haddoubly attributed the creation to via Bumblebee.

That’dbe something to say at a high school reunion. How she was married toan alien robot from Cybertron.

“Hey,mom?”

Thatgot Charlie’s attention, mustering a smile for his sake. “Yeah?”

“Doyou love dad?”

Thattook Charlie off guard. That’s right—Stingray hadn’t been therewhen Bumblebee and she had that heart-to-heart, spilling their gutsand bolts all over each other, which…sounded gross to imagine, butit wasn’t entirely off the mark.

“Ido,” Charlie said plainly, affection lacing her voice.

Stingraycouldn’t help but light up at that. Large arms gently encircled herand she laughed giddily, leaning into the gentle show of their bond,that soft thing that fluttered like a bird in her chest.

“Dibson being best man,” Stingray quipped with what sounded like asmile, Charlie giggling into the embrace.

“Gotcha.But only if you wear the goofiest, dorkiest and biggest bow tie wecan find.”

“Aw,but mooooooooooom!”

Atthat, she couldn’t help but burst into a fit of giggling.

*

“Ithought he’d be here by now.”

Seatedin the driver’s seat outside of a mom and pop bar, Charliecontemplatively chewed the breakfast sandwich she’d ordered,sipping some of the soda. Though she didn’t want to voice it, heranxieties were largely mirrored. “He’ll be here. Maybe the doofusjust took a wrong turn,” Charlie said hopefully, even though shefelt a twist of worry in her gut. With everything that had happened,the threat of Decepticons was a perpetual concern none of them couldshake.

Stingraystill vibrated with apprehension, turning the radio dial on his ownwhile Charlie indulged him and listened, having wanted to do the sameexact thing.

“Anexplosion was heard at the Southern Rim just minutes ago, parkrangers looking into the possibility of an avalanche caused by lastweek’s torrential downpour—“

“Anexplosion?” Charlie repeated aloud, feeling her blood curdle icilyin her very veins.

“Dad,”Stingray whimpered through the radio, Charlie moving on autopilot. Ithad to be Bee—what else could explain him being so late without atleast radioing in or something?

“Canyou hone in on him, Red? We’ve gotta find him!”

Stingray’stransponder buzzed and crackled hurriedly as he attempted to do justthat before it stopped, the young Autobot declaring, “Found dad!”Without another word did Stingray speed away from the parking lothe’d occupied, soaring down the turnpike and towards the GrandCanyon.

Thescenery blurred unremarkably past as the pair sped towards thenational park, forest soon giving way to open vistas and flat veldtpocked by tough grasses and cacti, thankful that it was still morningand that the crush of tourists scrambling to get into the parks werelargely clear. Because even if they weren’t, Charlie knew they’dmove heaven and hell to get to Bee and make sure he was safe.

Itwasn’t long before they came to one of the touristy vantage points,giving them an ample and spectacular view of of the canyon Charliewould’ve wanted to linger and relish in, but knew that theycouldn’t.

Withouteven a moment’s hesitation did Stingray transform into his Autobotform, heedless of who might see. And the moment that he did did thetwo of them hear a cacophonous explosion that rocked with thedissonance of mortar fire, feeling it through to her bones. Fromafar, Charlie followed the sound and watched as Bumblebee was waginga war of wills in the river valley, the Colorado River shallow enoughthat it came only to his waist in the summer drought. There, anameless Decepticon twice his height grappled for dominance withdestructive power, Charlie blanching at the sight of it.

“Mom,there are people coming up on it fast! We have to help them!”Stingray cried out anxiously and pointing at a large raft careeningperilously close to the stage of action. Just around the bend, therewouldn’t be more than a few seconds for them to act.

“Right.Come on, let’s go!”

Withoutanother word did Stingray squat so Charlie could piggyback on hisback, careful to avoid the splintering parts before he sprinted offthe very cliff and Charlie felt the distinct sensation of her stomachdropping in the fall. Catching himself on a buttress, the Autobotskidded the rest of the descent down while grappling for purchase,Charlie certain she’d be pelted in clay-toned dust before theyreached the bottom.

Oncebarely feet from the valley floor, Stingray leaped one last time intothe river, a little taller than Bumblebee. The people in the raftstartled at the transformer that halted their advance, a gentle stopthat didn’t upset anyone but made them cognizant of the battleahead, some swearing oaths at the sight of it.

WithStingray’s help did Charlie climb aboard the raft, digging for alead line for him to take and temporarily moor to some branch orother overhanging the river. “Red, catch!” Charlie prompted onceshe did, the Autobot dexterously tethering it. “Uh, hey, um—staycalm, everyone! We’ve just got a little, um,” the brunetteglanced over her shoulder at Bumblebee and the Decepticon exchangingblows, “…situation. Yeah! It’ll be alright in a second,so—maybe…get comfy, yeah.” God, she wasn’t cut out to be atour guide, was she?

Feelingthe raft lurch forth a bit, Charlie turned to see why when Stingrayleaped into the fray, several plates of facial armor covering itwhile his firearm deployed, watching with a swell of pride asBumblebee became aware of his son’s backup, grappling theDecepticon and wheeling it around so Stingray could get a clear shot.In a long moment of anticipation did Stingray steady his firing armand optics narrow, then taking the shot in a thunderous echo thatshook Charlie down to her very bones. The Decepticon’s head wasblasted clean off, the crackle of fizzling electronics sounded whilstthe body locked up and dropped dead into the water, the volume of itswelling when the deceased passed under the raft and Charlie couldswear she shuddered as it did.

Wordlesslydid Bumblebee embrace his son, the firearm disengaging and Stingrayembraced the elder Autobot back. People aboard the raft couldn’thelp but croon at the sight of it, Charlie feeling herself tear up abit. Though, she started a bit when Bumblebee waded through the waterfor her, offering a hand while Stingray chattered once he extricatedhimself from the embrace.

“Welp,things look safe now,” he prattled while undoing the tether andpassing the rope on to the raft’s occupants, who appeared largelymollified now that the threat was gone, “so you fine folks go abouton your way, alrighty? Have a good one!” With that, the reclaimedtheir oars and paddled anew to resume their jaunty trip down theriver.

Politelydid Stingray avert his eyes while Bumblebee picked Charlie up, browstouching as Charlie embraced and cradled Bee’s head close. “Youwere awesome out there, Bee,” Charlie murmured fondly as shepressed a tender kiss to his brow, Bumblebee glowing at theaffection.

“Youweren’t half-bad either,” Bee conceded, laughing softly atStingray turning their back to him. He really was just a kid. “I’msorry I couldn’t make it today. These Decepticons came out ofnowhere and Optimus and I had to take care of them before anyone gothurt.”

“Shhh,hey, it’s okay. You were doing the right thing, Bee. How can Ifault you on that?”

“Youwere so cool out there, dad!” Stingray interjected, gushingfrankly. “Like, the way you were just clobbering that guy! And whenI got to blow his head off—it was so cool!” Charlie couldn’thelp but laugh softly at that.

“See?Red thinks so, too.” Stingray came into the fold while Bee spared afree arm to loop over his son’s shoulders, the young Autobotchirping happily.

“I’mjust glad you guys are alright. And we make a pretty good team, huh?”Bee said with a smile in his voice, bumping temples with Stingray whocould only fluster in protest—like any kid would.

“Whydon’t we hit the road again? I bet we could find some cool placesall to ourselves here,” Charlie hinted with a note ofmischievousness, the other two seeming in perfect agreement despitethe slight ache in her chest.

Whilethey made their way up the cliff side, she couldn’t help butwonder: when would be a good time to ask? And, was she really in herright to? Getting married was always a huge thing and part of herworried she hadn’t known Bee long enough, that she’d just bethere to weigh him down. And she was only eighteen, too. Was she evenready for that kind of commitment? Letting these doubts sink into herlike stones, she bit her tongue on the ascension up and praisedwhatever was out there for neither Stingray nor Bee noticing.

Maybesome other time.

[667-darkavenue]

young legends die all the time (part one.)

i havent shared any of my writing in a while so in my traditional style, i’ll share a WIP in the middle of the night. this is an allurance gang au. despite the title, no one actually dies.

The royal families were something of a myth for Lance when he was growing up.

“Never cross that street,” his mom hissed, squeezing the wrist she’d just yanked him back by.

“Why?” he whined, from both pain and petulance.

“If the Witch sees little boys from our side of town, she steals them and eats them.” She said it like a matter of fact. “Our side is safe.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause the King watches over us, papi.”

The parents of this torn city desperately needed some way to hammer in hard lessons to their children without breaking their innocence. When he was older, Lance would wonder if that’s the reason why everything to do with the royal families was given such whimsical language. But while he was a kid, it totally worked.

“Wanna play Druids and Paladins?” His friends would ask in the schoolyard.

The children flipped a penny to decide who would play the leaders, then the pretend-Witch and pretend-King would choose their teams. Sometimes the weapons were water balloons, or nerf guns, or just two fingers pointed at their opponents with a ‘Bang!’

This had an unintended consequence their parents didn’t account for. As far back as Lance could remember, he always wanted to be a paladin.

Fresh out of high school, he got a job at the same restaurant as his best friend. Unfortunately, they never saw each other. Hunk worked all the way at the back of the kitchen and Lance didn’t even work inside the place. He stood out front, opened doors to cars that pulled in, and took them to valet parking.

That’s how he became friends with the finest girl in the world.

Within his first few days on the job, a white Bentley pulled into the driveway. An older man sat in the driver’s seat and a cascade of thick hair bent down in the passenger side, probably fishing a purse out from around her feet. Lance opened the door from her side first, offering a hand to help the lady out. She took it with barely glance at him, sweeping a bit of silvery hair out of the way as she slung her purse over her shoulder and stepped out of the car. It was a fancy restaurant with fancy clientele, but something about the casual way people interacted with Lance as if valets weren’t anything out of the ordinary for them never stopped catching him off guard. This girl though. She paused once she was on her feet and got a proper look at him. And he got a good look at her too. Oh shit, she’s gorgeous.

She pulled her hand away from his. “You’re new.”

She’s got an accent!!!!

“You can tell?” Lance’s chest pounded. “What’d I do?”

The smile she gave him was a small one, but it still crinkled the corners of her bright blue eyes. “Nothing.”

Her father, who was also striking to look at, came around from the other side of the car. Side by side, the pair smelled like money and oozed sophistication.

He passed Lance the keys and noted, “You’re new.”

“Yeah,” Lance answered, voice devastated at how obvious it apparently was.

Father and daughter shared an amused look, a silent inside joke, between each other. They didn’t bother to fill Lance in, either. Without a word, they entered the restaurant.

It didn’t take long to get somewhat familiar with them. Her father was a regular there and tipped a ten every time. Naturally, Lance adored him. The dad had to like him back, right?

The restaurant had a round table that was never given to customers under any circumstances, no matter how packed the night was. It was always left open so that just in case that father or his daughter walked in, they could be seated right away. Even if they didn’t show up for ten nights in a row, the table would stay empty. Like they were phantoms of the freaking opera.

They used it now and then for private father-daughter dinners. More often, it was used to hold meetings with all manner of people. People in suits, people in sweats, local government officials, guys with face tattoos. Lance got a signal from the hostess whenever the round table’s dinner was drawing to a close, so that their Bentley would be ready and waiting the moment they stepped outside. All the other normal customers needed to hand Lance a ticket and stand outside while he fetched their car.

One night, the finest girl in the world stepped out early. The swoosh of the front door brought the chatter of the restaurant outside. Lance’s heart jumped into his throat when he realized it was her.

“Oh! Sorry, I don’t have your car ready,” He blurted, a little flustered. “Romelle usually gives me a sign to get ready for you guys.”

The door swung closed behind her, muffling the din inside and leaving them alone in the dim stillness of the driveway. “It’s alright. We aren’t leaving.”

She walked a few steps closer to the edge of the driveway, looking out at the road. Lance had no idea what she was doing or what he was supposed to be doing. A silent pause stretched between them.

She looked back toward him. “What is the sign?”

“The wha?” “You said you get a signal when she knows we’re finishing up.”

“Oh. It’s—Uh—Kind of a joke.”

She raised her eyebrows, urging him on without a word.

“She says,” Lance reluctantly admitted, “The british are coming.”

He laughed halfway through, ‘cause it was so dumb.

It got a chuckle out of the finest girl in the world, as well. “But she’s British as well.”

“I know,” Lance snorted.

He could see the round table through the restaurant’s front window if he stood in the right spot. Lance craned his neck to scope out the situation. Her dad was still sitting down over coffee with three old white guys.

“Things get awkward at the table or what?”

“No, nothing like that. It’s just so boring I wanted to fall asleep on the tablecloth. I think some fresh air will wake me up.” Her heels clacked on the pavement as she paced in small circles.

“Yeah, I feel that. You have no idea how much time I spend just waiting out here by myself.”

“At least it’s not stressful.”

Lance shrugged. “It’s fine. I think I’d rather be doing something stressful, but c’est la vie.” “You should’ve been a waiter, then.”

“I tried, but I had no serving experience. So they turned me down and offered this instead.”

She crossed her arms and stepped a little closer. “What experience do you have?”

Lance started listing them with his fingers. “I’m a good driver, good talker—”

“Oh, are you?” “You’re still here, so better than those guys.” With a jerk of his chin, Lance pointed with his lips to the inside of the restaurant.

She looked at her father’s table with the smallest curl lingering at the corner of her lips. She looked back at Lance. “I’m Allura, by the way.”

“I’m Lance.”

“Hello.”

“Hey.”

“You didn’t get very far in listing your skills.”

“Oh, right.” Lance lifted a third finger and continued, “Good kisser...”

She rolled her eyes and raised a hand over her mouth to cover another laugh.

The sound emboldened Lance. “Any chance I could get your number, Allura?”

“Oh, of course.”

His entire face lit up.

She reached into her purse, but did not pull out her phone. In her hand was the valet slip, held between two fingers.

“We’re number twenty five.” She grinned, a little bit playful and a little bit wicked.

Lance’s favorite nights were when Allura came in. If work slowed down, he’d slink over to the window and watch her sip illegal champagne from her flute. Not in, like, a creepy way. There was just something nice about getting to see the finest girl in the world on a somewhat regular basis. This kind of serene, sighing, ‘ahhhhh’ feeling behind his ribs. Not unlike the way it feels to get a nice long look at the ocean on a clear day.

On a good night, Allura would come outside while her dad was still wrapping up conversation at the table or having long, drawn-out goodbyes at the entrance. She’d lean against the car and talk to Lance until it was time to go.

He asked her out once. She said no. He asked her if she was sure the next night. She said yes. But she still liked to come out and talk to him for a few minutes after dinner, so no harm done.

Sometimes she came in without her dad at all, to have some drinks with her friends around the end of Lance’s shift. She’d beckon him inside to join them when closing time was near and her table was the only one still occupied. He had to drive her back home once. Of course, that meant he needed to leave her car there and walk forty minutes back to his own home at midnight. But that was fine. Lance lived on the nice side of town. The side where crime just didn’t happen. Parents could let their children play outside while they cleaned inside. Girls could walk home alone at night. People who tried to start shit mysteriously disappeared. And the victims who got messed with were always paid back for their losses in mysterious ways.

When he was thirteen, someone broke into Lance’s home. After a sweep of the house, his mom’s jewelry box and his dad’s one nice watch were the only things missing. There wasn’t much else worth taking. His parents blamed themselves for thinking they didn’t need better security than a lock on the door. A few days after they filed the police report, his mom got a call directly from the local pawn shop. They had all her missing jewelry and the watch and wanted to return it to her, free of charge. She had to go pick it up directly from the shop. Not the police station.

Anyway, everyone’s tragic stories took place far from the restaurant’s neighborhood. The muggings, the assaults, the missing persons—All of it happened beyond the streets his mother had told him never to cross.

But after a year of working there, something happened.

That one familiar Bentley pulled up to the restaurant in something of a hurry. Lance had never seen Allura’s dad brake hard before. He opened the passenger door for her, as always. He offered his gloved hand to help her step out of the car, then closed it behind her and went around the hood to take the keys from her father.

Alfor gripped Lance’s arm when he passed the keys. “Don’t take any cars you don’t recognize tonight. Tell them we are closed for a private event.”

“Sure. You got it.”

“There’s something for you in the glove compartment. I want you to take it and hold onto it.”

He nodded and tried not to look as puzzled as he felt. Alfor gave him a pat on the back and finally released Lance’s arm. A little frazzled, Lance hopped into the driver’s seat and immediately reached for the glove compartment.

The passenger door flung open and Allura dove into the seat. “Wait!”

She slammed both hands over Lance’s, shoving the compartment shut before he could take a look inside. She kept one hand there while the other scrambled to clumsily shut the door behind her.

“What are you doing? What’s going on?” Lance was getting nervous and his voice was rising.

“You don’t need to get involved.” Allura gently pried his fingers away from the glove compartment handle. She shifted to sit sideways so that her body could face him. She clutched his hand in both of hers. “You can walk away. Nothing will happen to you.”

“Walk away from...? What is in there?”

Her eyes were so bright and they gave Lance an intense look that he couldn’t decipher the meaning of at all. “Allura. I have no idea what’s going on.”

“I know. It’s not fair.”

“But I wanna be involved.” God, his palm was probably getting sweaty between her soft hands. “I wanna be your friend. I want to be here when something’s wrong.”

She shook her head. “You have no idea what you’re getting into.”

“Look, there’s literally nothing that would make me walk away from you right now. Or ever.”

“Nothing at all?”

“Nope.”

“Lance, that is…” Allura released his hand. “Just… So unwise.”

“No, it isn’t!”

She scoffed, a helpless little huff of breath through her nostrils.

“What’s in there?” He asked again.

Slowly, Allura reached out and pulled the glove compartment open. It was empty except for a swathe of blue velvet cloth wrapped around something. Lance leaned over and reached across Allura, into the compartment. He unfolded the cloth in his lap, revealing a gorgeous, ornate pistol. The kind known members of the royal family’s paladins were rumored to carry around. The King’s crest was gilded into the handle. It might as well have been a legend to Lance.

part two ==>

[jamlessness]

devotion.

summary: what in the world would make the best racer out there to give up his passion? pairing: yoongi x reader word count: 1.8k content: racer!yoongi and a serious heartache a/n: i broke my head and my heart while writing this but also so proud??? huge thanks to @haljorda-n and @seoulscapes for putting up with my despair helping me out with this one, i swear i’ll make up for you guys some day.

“Is that all?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowed to his forehead as he analyzed the man in front of him. If Yoongi was nervous, no one could tell. His relaxed posture  while looking around made it seem like he was doing Namjoon a favor, not the other way around. “You’ve been gone for weeks and ‘doing things’ is really the only piece of explanation you give as you ask me for a spot on this race?”

“That’s the only explanation you need.” he shrugged, his eyes never failing to portrait his confidence. “Am I in or not?��

Namjoon had all the reasons in the world to be suspicious but he was not dumb. Min Yoongi collected several ups and downs and had a difficult personality himself but if he said he could race, the first place had already a banner with his name. He was the best pilot in town and people still couldn’t understand why other people would want to compete with him knowing they didn’t stand a chance - that’s how good he was.

Only a few people knew that he barely allowed himself to drive on a daily basis, let alone that he didn’t even have a car of his own. But his job as a mechanic gave him the knowledge of what it takes for a car to be the best and well, Namjoon owned all the best himself.

That was what everyone called a perfect partnership: Namjoon provided the vehicle and Yoongi provided the talent, making it impossible to beat that team up.

Even though he got offered so many cars so many times, Yoongi only seeked for the money prize. They usually shared 50/50 and, according to the oldest, it was more than enough for him. By the dawn, after a race, Suga - the name he was known for on the underground world - would always be spotted on a bus stop downtown, his backpack filled with money he never bragged about - not with clothes or accessories.

No one had the guts to ask him what he have done with his part of the money and no one actually bothered as long as he kept coming and dragging his fans along with him for another amazing race - and a ridiculous amount of bets.

Namjoon had nothing to lose, so his answer didn’t take long to come:

“I hope you have a wise use for those 80 grand that will be on your pocket before the sunrise on saturday…” he pointed out to Yoongi, both of them with smirks on their faces.

“I’ll come to check the car by noon on friday.” this was his way of saying goodbye but there was still one answered question for his partner.

“Wait!” he called out and grabbed his arm before Yoongi could walk away on him, getting puzzled eyes in return. “Is there anything I should know about this sudden comeback?” it was clear that Namjoon was worried, not about his partner going missing again, but about his partner. He never saw Yoongi like that and if he could do something to help, he would.

“Yea…” he smiled sweetly. “This is Suga’s last race.” he announced calmly before pulling his arm and wishing Namjoon a good night.

Once friday came, Namjoon didn’t hold back questioning Yoongi, subtly, about the reason why he was giving up. Not just because that’d be such a waste to leave that talent to rust but because he actually wanted to help, whatever was the situation that his partner was going through. But Yoongi got away with the answer every single time until the youngster was forced to give up - making it clear to his hyung  that he should call him if he needed anything.

“Then if it really is your last race…” Namjoon said with a friendly smile, leaning in the window once the cars lined up for the very last time that night - the finals. “Make it the greatest.” he winked, wishing Yoongi the best of luck before stepping away.

On the brief seconds between the moment Namjoon left and the start of the race, Yoongi whispered a prayer to no known god but to you, because there was nothing in this world he believed more than you. He didn’t ask for protection nor the grand prize; it was a thankful prayer with a single wish: for your heart to be strong enough for the three of you.

“We’ll be just fine, babe…” he promised under his breath, watching carefully as a familiar face started the countdown just a couple feet ahead of the cars. “Just hold on a bit more, Y/N-ah, once I’m back we’ll be just fine.”

Adrenaline and pleasure pumped through his veins from the very first second, a feeling he knew well and cherished above many things. The right moves at the right moments were involuntary reflex of the well-trained mind of the man that had a reason beyond self satisfaction to win.

He wanted to keep in mind all the sensations flooding his body as the speed increased. It was an understatement to say that it made him happy and whole and with a sense that he belonged somewhere in the universe; Yoongi loved racing and anything related to it. It was almost sacred to him and that’s the reason why he wanted every time he touched a steering wheel to be special, that’s why he barely took the driver’s seat out of the highway buzz in the middle of the night, when Suga came to life.

But it couldn’t compare to the holiness of his family - the reason why he was doing this.

Yoongi couldn’t help but smirk once he watched his closest opponent becoming nothing but a tiny dot through the mirror. From all of the feelings he’d miss, that’d be a huge one - to prove that he could do it better than anyone else. Once the second place got out of sight, he decided to just enjoy the circuit as much as he could. It was his last race after all and he wanted to say he made the most out of it.

It was a pity that you wouldn’t be there this time, waiting for him on the finish line to share a glance that made it clear he’d get another reward later on. Of course, you’d probably point out and question unnecessary risks he took but it didn’t really bother him once he’d get you all to himself. You never wanted any of them to know about the two of you and to be honest, Yoongi thought it was better like this. Avoided questions and stares and more questions and it really didn’t change anything in your lives.

As much as he tried to make it last, the whole night passed by in just a couple of seconds. Yoongi didn’t even hear the congratulatory chants once he stepped out of the car, just a little while after crossing the finish line. Through the noises with his heart still racing in his chest, he saw the night end with Namjoon still trying to convince him to stay a little more.

The racer nonchalantly refused, expressing his deep gratitude for his long time partner before he left with his prize on his backpack to the nearest bus stop in order to head straight to you.

The only thing that broke the silence in the room was the beep coming from the machine supposed to keep his heart pace steady. The first lights of this new day were coming all the way from the window until it reached the weak little body on that hospital bed that was way too big for him. You faithfully stood at his side, your hand never leaving any part of Jiho you could reach even when tiredness consumed you in a forced sleep. By his side, a nurse hummed a little tune while taking her turn on checking on him - on the both of you, since you have had a fever on the last night.

The little boy was hanging in there, his brave little heart fighting as much as it could with a fierce determination that he inherited from his father. She smiled at the little warrior Min Jiho was known to be but a single sigh left her mouth once she stated you weren’t getting any better just yet. She knew it was due to your worries, due to the stressful weeks you’ve been going through trying to desperately figure out what to do about the newfound sick heart of your only child.

Jiho needed that surgery and needed it fast or else he wouldn’t be the only one in the claws of a disease in this family.

Just as the nurse thought about the young family drama about raising money for the surgery and post-operatory treatment, the door smoothly swung open, allowing the happy figure of Min Yoongi to enter the room his only son occupied.

As if sensing his presence, your eyes slowly opened just in time to find your boyfriend greeting the nurse before approaching the chair you had taken over for the weeks you had been living on the hospital. His eyes revealing what he has been doing for the last hours just as a confirmation for the words he addressed to you a few days ago.

You silently asked him how he was but he just shrugged it off, leaning in to press his lips gently against yours. Even though your heart reacted to the simple act as it always did, your face frowned in confusion.

“We’re leaving him after lunch so there’s no excuse, ok? You’re letting they take care of you.” he announced, reaching out to wrap your hand and Jiho’s under his own, his eyes never left your widened ones.

It could only mean one thing and you knew it.

Because hell, there was no way you would leave your son’s side to get yourself checked.

Yoongi made it.

Jiho would go under surgery.

He’d be home by the next week.

He’d grown like any other normal kid.

And you knew at what cost.

Your boyfriend promised to quit racing, to let Suga become his past if that meant saving Jiho.

“Yoongi…” you gasped out of despair for not knowing how to deal with both feelings: the overwhelming joy for the so called miracle arriving and the sadness for him quitting his passion in order to fulfill an oath.

You didn’t need to say anything, he could read it in your eyes.

“It’s worth it.” he smiled, glancing over Jiho with adoration and pure love in his eyes.

His little hero had no idea of how much of an inspiration he was to him. Barely one year of life and already such a brave man. He swore Jiho took it after you.

If racing was almost sacred, your family was the ultimate meaning of holiness.

Once again, Yoongi found himself swearing devotion to the both of you until his last breath.

[speedyistheotherguy-blog]

Steakhouse Ranch

@baptizedinred

After what seemed like days instead of mere hours from the airport, the old, rust-dappled van finally came to a stop. “We’re here!” announced the driver, a young man with a baseball cap pressed down backwards over his shaggy red hair and sunglasses covering his blue eyes. The van’s only passenger looked up from the screen of his phone where he’d been playing a game to stave off the crushing boredom and peered out the window at the sight before them. It was an sturdy little ranch house with a stable tucked next to a corral beside a grove of elm trees. Alongside the opposite end of main house was a row of small, evenly-spaced cabins. A faded wooden sign out front of the wrap-around porch of the main house was proudly emblazoned with the words “Wild Canyon Ranch and Summer Camp: Guiding America’s Youth Since 1966.” Bart gazed quizzically at the campus, squinting in the bright New Mexico sunlight. He had been less than ecstatic about the whole ‘summer camp’ situation from the beginning. Two weeks ago he’d been happily strolling away from the steps of Central City High School and looking forward to an entire summer of nonstop video games when his cousin Wally had dropped this nonsensical idea on him like a bomb. “Summer camp will be good for you, Bart.” He’d said, “You’re sixteen now. It’s time for you to learn some responsibility. Gain some independence and start acting like an adult. Besides, it’ll keep you from just playing video games all summer.”

"How is making sure that I waste my whole summer at a lame camp supposed to teach me about responsibility?” Bart had argued, scowling. Wally was always butting into his life uninvited with awful ideas that made him suffer. Wally called it 'building character.’ Bart called it obnoxious.

"Actually, Bart, I think summer camp is a good idea.” His grandpa Jay piped up. His grandma Joan nodded encouragingly as well. Bart tried not to look betrayed. They’d adopted him when he was little after his parents had died and raised him like their own son with occasional help from Wally. Bart loved them dearly and he knew they meant well, but sometimes he felt like he was being micromanaged by a team of out-of-touch senior guidance counselors. "I think you’ll be surprised by how much fun you can have when you spend some time in the real world and not in World of Warlocks.” Wally chipped in, issuing a frustrated groan from Bart.

"It’s World of Warcraft, dude! And I’ve spent plenty of time in the 'real world’! That’s what school is for!”

“Well, you haven’t been getting any high scores there, either.” Wally countered. “Joan showed me your report card.” Bart gave him a dirty look.

“Bart, honey. Why don’t you just give it a try?” Grandma Joan said, stepping forward and taking his hands in her own. “Just try it for a week and if you don’t like it then give us a call and we’ll send you home. And if you end up loving it you can stay there for the summer.” Bart considered the option for a moment in silence. He couldn’t say no to Grandma Joan. And it was only for a week. Surely seven days of summer camp wouldn’t kill him, right? And then he could just call home and come right back and spend his summer doing what he really wanted to do without his family hassling him.

And so Bart agreed to the deal and had been promptly shipped off to Wild Canyon Summer Camp two weeks later.

Now, as he looked out at the modest ranch in the actual middle-of-nowhere New Mexico, he was beginning to regret that decision. “Looks awesome, right?” The driver prompted, turning to Bart with an honest grin.

“Ummm, sure?” Bart replied, only because he didn’t want to upset the guy. He was so friendly and he had one of those sincere faces that made you think twice about lying to him. “It looks… different?” Bart offered, glancing at the name tag pinned to the guy’s chest. 'Roy,’ it read. He’d introduced himself when he’d picked Bart up at the airport, but Bart had already forgotten it sometime during the drive.

Roy laughed. “You got that right! Trust me, there’s no other place on earth like Wild Canyon. It’s one of a kind. C'mon, grab your bag and I’ll give you the tour!” He said, clapping Bart on the shoulder before jumping out of the van. Bart stifled a sigh and followed suit, pulling his duffel off the back seat and following Roy up the gravel path to the main building. He couldn’t see them, but he could hear cows lowing somewhere in the distance. The smell of hay, dust and manure assaulted his nose and made him sneeze.

“This is the main house, but we all call it 'The Tower’ because it’s the only building on the grounds that has two stories. Upstairs is lodging for the staff and counselors, and downstairs is the kitchen, mess hall, showers, rec room, and office.” Roy explained, clomping up the porch steps in his cowboy boots and reaching for the door knob. No sooner had his fingers touched it than it swung open from the inside. “Hey, Uncle Jim!” Roy greeted the man inside cheerfully, who returned it with equal enthusiasm. Bart could see the family resemblance. Jim looked like an older version of Roy with a beard and a reasonable haircut. “Hey, kid! You must’ve made good time from the airport. Feels like I just saw you leaving only a minute ago. Guess we don’t call you Speedy for nothing, huh?” He laughed. Bart raised an eyebrow. So that explained why they’d seemed to pass every single car on the highway coming here. He might’ve thought more of it at the time if he wasn’t so used to Wally’s driving, which was hair-raising to say the least. As it was, the ride had still seemed to take forever in Bart’s opinion, but he kept that to himself.

“You must be Bartholomew!” Jim said, jerking Bart out of his thoughts as he reached out to shake Bart’s hand.

“Yeah, that’s me. People just call me Bart, though.” He said, trying not to wince as his fingers were nearly crushed. Jim had a very firm grip.

“Bart it is!” Jim replied with a laugh. “Welcome to Wild Canyon, Bart. You can give me your bag there and I’ll put it in your cabin for you while Roy shows you around. Dinner’s in an hour. I’ll see you both then!” Jim said, slinging Bart’s duffle over his shoulder and giving them both a wave before closing the door behind him.

“Uncle Jim’s been helping run this place for years. I actually grew up on a Rez not far from here. That’s where he found me and we reconnected. I remember coming here when I was a kid. I mean, I wasn’t ever a camper in the program, but the ranch was so close and I just wanted to play with the other kids. Nobody ever seemed to care. I was always welcome here whenever I wanted. This place was almost going out of business by the time Uncle Jim found me, but when he saw what a great place it was and how much it meant to me, he decided to do everything he could to help save it. Even scored some recent funding from Queen and Wayne Enterprises if you can believe that! Don’t ask me how, because I still don’t know. The Rez even granted us an easement and we were able to expand a bit with the shared land, so now this place is doing better than ever. I mean, there’s always some fixing up to do, but we put most of the funding into the programs for the campers like you.” Roy told him. Bart half-listened as he looked around the place. The inside was actually pretty nice compared to the grounds outside. He could tell it had been recently remodeled. It was even air conditioned, which was more than he had expected when they first pulled up. At least he could be reassured that he wouldn’t die of heat stroke if boredom didn’t kill him first.

For the next half hour Roy showed Bart around the rest of the ranch. They saw the kitchen where a beautiful red-haired woman named Kori was making dinner for the camp. The food looked questionable, but Bart hardly noticed as he was too distracted by her eyes. They were the brightest shade of green he’d ever seen, and he would’ve been instantly smitten if only he hadn’t seen Roy steal a kiss from her on their way out. Damn.    

After seeing the rec room and showers they stopped by the office to take care of Bart’s program registration. They were met there by another young man about Roy’s age named Dick, who assigned Bart to cabin number four and invited himself along for the tour immediately after Roy mentioned that they were heading to the stables next. Roy didn’t seem to mind, and Bart didn’t either. The two seemed to be good friends, and Bart was entertained by listening to them banter back and forth with each other as they walked.

They moved on to the stables where a woman named Barbara was teaching a riding lesson in the corral. A small group of campers watched in awe as she expertly navigated her horse around some barrels and fences. Bart noticed that Dick looked especially fascinated, although he somehow doubted that it was because he was interested in riding technique. They watched together for a few minutes before Roy led Bart onward towards the pasture. Dick, to no one’s surprise, opted to stay behind.

The pasture was occupied by about a hundred cattle. Among them was a green-haired boy about Bart’s age who was napping under a tree. “Shhh-” Roy pressed a finger to his lips and crept towards the tree, motioning for Bart to follow him. Roy grinned mischievously as he dropped to a crouch and reached his hands out towards the boy, who appeared to be completely asleep and totally unaware of the danger about to befall him. Suddenly, Roy grabbed the boy’s shoulders and shook him hard, shouting in his face. “AAAAH! EARTHQUAKE!!!” Roy bellowed. The boy woke with a loud yelp, his green eyes wide with confusion and terror for all of a second before he figured out what was happening. “Dude!” He exclaimed indignantly, shoving Roy away who collapsed onto his back in a fit of laughter. “You’re gonna spook the cattle!” But Roy seemed unperturbed as he regained his breath, smirking at the boy’s concern.

“No, I’m not. Because you’re here, Gar.” He said, sitting up and readjusting his baseball cap. “You’re the animal-whisperer! They’re always calm around you no matter what.” Bart looked around. True enough, the cattle seemed just as content and unconcerned about the disturbance as they had been when they’d arrived.

“Fine, but you’re still a dick.” Gar grumbled, sitting up and stretching his arms.

“No, Dick’s over by the stables.” Roy countered, and Gar swatted him then laughed.

“Shut up, man.” He snickered. Bart liked him already. He seemed laid back and had a good sense of humor, which Bart always appreciated. “Oooh, is this another newby?” Gar asked as he noticed Roy wasn’t alone.

“My name’s Bart.” Bart introduced himself, offering Gar a hand up.

“Garfield.” Gar replied, accepting Bart’s hand and pulling himself to his feet. “But people just call me Gar.”

“Gar was actually a camper like you last year.” Roy said, getting up and brushing the dirt off his hands. “But when we saw how good he was with the cows we decided to keep him on as a ranch hand. Sometimes we even pay him.” He joked.

“Not enough to put up with you, though.” Gar shot back. They all laughed at that.

“Hey, where’s Jason?” Roy asked, “I thought he was out here with you today?”

"He said he wanted to go for a trail ride and that he’d be back for dinner.” Gar said, shrugging nonchalantly. “I already got dibs on his dessert if he’s late, so don’t even try.”

"Fat chance, green bean. Speaking of dinner, we should head back." Roy said to Bart, turning back towards the main house. They both waved goodbye to Gar, who waved back and said he'd see them later.

"Looks like you got to meet almost everyone already! And don't worry, the ones you didn't you'll get to see later tonight at the bonfire. We always have one when we get a new camper so we have a chance to get to know you better." said Roy. Bart perked up at that. At least a bonfire sounded like fun. Maybe his week long banishment here wouldn't be so bad after all.

"Sounds great!" Bart replied, following Roy onward to dinner and the rest of the full week ahead of him.

[twilightpony4]

Ola Americano... Turtle?: 2. Young Adults

Driving through the city with extravagantly tinted windows was never more relaxing. Normally, they would be on the lookout for police who would want to pull them over to give them a citation for the feature. Raphael was always first to volunteer to outrun them if they were ever given the chance, but since they have now been given a pass by the police as an undercover vehicle, that chance to engage in a Tokyo Drift faded away. At least they still get those funny looks from fellow drivers and pedestrians who either ogle or ridicule the fashion of their vehicle. If only they knew this meager van withheld its own defenses.

Donnie drove to the back of the TCRI building. The entire perimeter was surrounded by armed guards and yellow tape. Noticing the van, the policeman took no time but to accept their clearance and open up a spot for them to drive on through. The driver let down his window just an inch when he stopped before the building. His car shut off and a female officer ran up to the window. Quick words were exchanged until a quick nod. She grabbed her dispatch and soon the street lights of the block turned their environment black. Only for a few seconds did this occur until the van was emptied and its passengers safely inside the TCRI structure. The mutants were immediately greeted by an officer who was assigned to take them to the floor Chief Vincent was occupying. The teens walked hurriedly, but not enough to not catch a glimpse of their surroundings. Officers, detectives, you name it were swarming out there as they pried open drawers and analyzed possible evidence. The floor altogether was emptied, swept clean in hopes of finding secrets between the walls and floorboards. When coming upon the elevator, both the space and weight capacity could not hold all six of them. They learned that after the narrow space could barely hold a turtle and a lizard together. The officer guiding them looked flushed with embarrassment and suggested that they should take the elevator meant for their machines. The hydraulics of this more industrial elevator did the trick as the family was sent up without their guide to the 9th floor of the TCRI building. They waited patiently as they were whisked up. Trying to get something started, Michelangelo started an 8-beat rhythm but no one was interested in collaborating along with him, ending the potential show short much to the young turtle’s dismay. The elevator dinged and the large door opened up to them the desired room. Just like any other floor, it was flooded with more people than ordinary office items. By the large machines and some other recognizable pieces seen from Donatello’s little lab, this must have been their laboratory floor. To their right, a glass box had cracked walls from the inside. To the left, computers were being hacked into and opened up for further investigation.

“Who do I have the pleasure of meeting?” Vincent’s voice caused for a change of direction of mutant heads. She stepped sharply with her assistant struggling to keep up with her. The mutant gang opened up to her as she approached them with a content expression. Although alright on the outside and having usual contact with the male mutants, the differences of the girls struck a hushed awe within herself.

“These are our sisters you remember. ‘Member?” Mikey spoke in a silly tone as he pulled his two sisters up to the chief. Yes, she remembered them but only as the boys have recalled. It was the first time she had officially met the two girls due to their absence in China.

“Of course, but not by blood, correct?”

“We're still a family.” Venus assured. Blood or not, they were a family and it would be best to pass that knowledge around to others who may want to challenge it. Thankfully, Vincent smiled, nodding while facing the floor.

“Of course. Chief Vincent of the New York Police Department.” She stook out a sharp hand for Mona to grab onto.

“Mona Lisa, kunoichi.” With such authority, Mona strived to match the same basic and affirmative tone as the chief held. After saying so, she felt more power through her throat.

“Kunoichi?”

“Female ninja.” The lizard lady added after remembering it is not a commonly known phrase in America. Vincent made an ‘O’ with her mouth, and then turn to Venus with her hand.

“Venus de Milo, kunoichi and magician.”

“A magician, so you like to create illusions?” As she asked, Vincent turned away and began to walk. The clan followed closely behind her for they knew she was ready to get down to business.

“Something like that.” The female terrapin almost whispered as they walked with the most mischievous look on her face.

“I'm glad all of you are here for I believe our team has found something you'll all want to see.”

“The place looks empty.” Raph commented as a team with baggies full of random items passed by. Most likely they were going to go to their forensic labs to find a clue through them.

“We're almost there. Ever since, we've swiped the entire building clean. Unfortunately, they seemed to have removed the latter of their possible experiments, plans, files, you name it. But, we have come across something quite interesting.” They came across a black desk with the surface swept clean. Vincent went behind it and sat in the chair. Bending over, she opened a cabinet and appeared to be fishing through some files. Michelangelo took it upon himself to sit on the corner of the table as he waited for her to pull out the desired file. Mona shook her head defeatedly for the child being so childish, but then again she knew who they were dealing with.

“Gentlemen, and ladies, in this file is useful information we can use to track down Baxter Stockman.” The black file was handed in Leonardo’s direction. The leader took it and opened it up. The breaths of five beat down his neck as he tried to tolerate it and read. There was picture of a man’s profile. He looked confident with his eyes glaring through his spectacles. Surprisingly enough, he was a rather alright-looking man. Beneath his picture was his name in bold letters: Seth Chapelin. To the left, numerous notable characteristics and achievements of the well decorated, red-headed man were listed. The red banded turtle was the first to respond.

“A resumè?” He raised his brow and looked to her with an unamused tone.

“His entire bio.” She clarified, ending his snarky expression. Donatello's arm pushed Leonardo and Venus forward a little and lay it over their shoulders to point out something in the file.

“Doctor Chapelin, robotics engineer. Stationed in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.” He read to them, tracing his finger under each word quite intrigued.

“Read further” she dared as her back was engulfed into the back of her seat. Vincent crossed her arms as well as her legs. “and you find that Chapelin is the assistant of Stockman.” Donatello was the only one to look further into it. Once he got that surprised, eyebrow raised look, they took her word for it.

“He looks so young.” Venus mumbled as she stared at his profile picture. Leonardo was beginning to pass it on to her for her took look more throughout the file and she pulled back at it. Once in her hands, she read on further what she couldn’t see from the view beside Leo.

“And incredibly intelligent.” Vincent added in regards to Venus’ surprise. “With this, I was hoping you all could do a little investigation on your own.” Leonardo nodded.

“But what about finding Shredder?” Vincent’s gaze moved to Michelangelo, whose shrugged shoulders questioned her motives. “He's got to be number one priority, right?”

“Of course, but we are unable to pick up his tracks. My hopes are that if you can find Chapelin and find out what rock Stockman is hiding-.”

“We find Shredder through him.” Leonardo finished. Vincent nodded.

“Precisely.”

“So,” Mona dwelled on “does this mean what I think you’re saying?” She asked. The chief sat up from her chair. Her hands were clasped together and on the desk just as the elbows that supported her upper body.

“I heard it's Carnival season. Would you all like to see Brazil, again apparently?”

“Well,” Raphael looked to the ground, shaking his head. “I wasn't too fond of the crash.” Oh yeah, like he wanted to blow up in the sky and come hurdling down to be skipped like a rock and barely survive a waterfall. Just the thought of flying again got him rubbing the back on his neck in anxiety.

“Softshell.” He heard Michelangelo mutter.

“Moron.” Raphael retaliated, a little louder this time.

“Numbskull!” Louder.

“Shrek the Third!” Louder.

“Children, children!” Donatello’s quick claps and breaking their stares between one another with his own stopped the two brothers from continuing. Both huffed and turned away in a pouting fashion. “We have more important things to deal with other than your pettiness.”

“I sometimes forget you are all still children.” Her passively-mocking tone did not sit right with the others of the group. Although she really did not mean to cause a stir, she was right. Here, they were supposed to be mature with adult responsibilities yet their name-calling and pouting in the middle of a serious investigation. Some heroes.

“Teenagers,” Mikey clarified, trying to fix the situation. Suddenly, he began to lean closer to her with his elbow resting on the desk. Then, his hand held up his chin with his pointer finger lining up the side of his face. It was his way of looking ‘classy’. “ but we can still have those adult conversations.” He spoke with such melody. Mona grabbed him by the rim of his shell and yanked him up. The young terrapin yelped when she pulled him close for her to whisper to him.

“Not helping.” Even though yanking someone is completely appropriate and mature.

“17’s pretty close to 18.” He wanted to argue, but the lizard lady was not having it.

“Young adults.” Venus took a deep breath before stating. “Young adults with” she looked to the lizard and the terrapin in which she kept her grip on. “childish antics.” she finished, quite defeated and cynical. Leonardo closed his eyes briefly as his way of saying that this was definitely not happening in front of Vincent. A quick breath and he carried on.

“We’ll have to check in with Splinter, but he should be ok with it.” He looked to the folder that was hanging down loosely at Venus’ side. He slipped it out of her tight grip and tucked it under his arm. Then, he scanned over his team. “It's not the first time we all went on a mission on the other side of the globe, right?” That statement carried over a knowing smile between all six mutants. It also brought one upon Vincent’s own lips.

“Contact as soon as you can. I'll make arrangements for your departure.”