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sssilverstoned · 4 months

Text

while you can still smell them ꩜ ln4

type: full length fic

word count: 3.9k

title from: i wish you roses by kali uchis

warnings: some fluff, angst, but like it's a happy ending. cursing bc i'm me, italics are memories

lily said: you know me i can never leave well enough alone. i thought this little snapshot of the break that was never really a break would be cute! for context, i'd suggest looking at the ig au linked below! this would be taking place in between part 2 and 3.

part 1

part 2

part 3

masterlist

You've only seen Lando cry on occasions that called for it. When family members died, when racing got too much for his mental, in some awful, awful moments. Maybe that's why it hurts so bad to see him cry now.

"A break feels a lot like you should add 'up' to that statement," he had said, turning away from you, looking out at the stars. You were sat on his balcony, feeling suffocated by the apartment. But the AC was on and working fine, and windows were open. Your emotions were suffocating you, that was more fitting.

"We can't keep on like this, Lan," you say in a broken voice, the lump in your throat thick and threatening. "It's not fair to either of us."

He doesn't realize he's crying until the drop hits his nose, making it quirk up in surprise. He swipes at his face, a pawlike move to get rid of the teardrops.

"Do you not love me anymore?"

His question makes you sob. Full body, head dropping to chest, your hands writing in your lap. The sound of you breaking down turns him back to you, rushing to the chair you've melted into. He lifts your face in his hands, and you take a breath when you see his face, discolored with tears.

"I'll always love you," he makes out of your words, just barely. "I, I just, it's not the same,"

"We can fix this, us. We can work on it together," Lando's brain is whirring at hyper speed, damage controlling the last 8 months of your lives together.

The cracks began to become schisms when he committed your largest pet peeve, which was ignoring things out of ease. Blissful ignorance, if you will.

It was small things, like forgetting about date nights in lieu of longer trainings or prolonging trips. Sometimes he forgot to water the plants, or didn't move laundry over, and that was manageable. That's what every couple encounters. What every couple does not encounter, was the intense pressure of racing a car for a living.

He was frustrated, with Zak, with anything papaya colored, and with his own self-doubts. He carried that frustration in his chest, and it came out in some of the words he spoke to you, and actions he took. You eventually stopped offering to come over and cook, because dinners were becoming continuously tense, and you were uncomfortable. Felt like a nuisance.

But at the same time, you were both so codependent. Without anything being said, you two began to avoid things you assumed the other wouldn't like, and asked for permission to do the smallest of things. You first noticed it when your sister pointed had asked you to come go with her out of town for the weekend, and you hesitated. "I'll have to ask Lando," you had told her. She bit her tongue.

Lando was just as bad, he had quite literally lost the ability to sleep when you weren't around. It made Grand Prix weekends an actual nightmare when you weren't there, calling you at any times in the day or night.

"Are you alright, it's 4am,"

"Sorry, can't sleep again. The melatonin does nothing,"

"Did you try the tea my mum got you?"

"Baby I just," he scrubs a hand down his exhausted face. "I just need you here."

"I can't just get up and go to Australia."

"I'll get you a flight, or maybe we can-"

"Lando," you say in a sterner voice. "I can't."

He's quiet for a moment, and you wonder what's going through his head. You hardly raised your voice or got intense, certainly never at him. But then again, recently, you seemed to never know what was going through his head.

It was silly to think that Lando was the same man that you began dating. You were 19, you would pray that he had changed somehow over the span of 5 years. But there was something missing that once was. The relationship was becoming more of a task, and that wasn't right. Which is what brought you to this moment, brought you to telling him you needed to talk.

"Lan," you whimper, bringing a hand up where his hold your face on either side. You don't even have to say anything more, he knows you better than you know yourself. And he begins to cry harder.

"I've never loved anyone but you, baby."

"I know."

"I can't, I really don't want to live without you," he shakes his head, standing back up to his full height. His hands stay busy, though, ripping through his hair.

"I'm not going to go away," you explain, agonized that you're calmer than he at this point. You stand from the wicker chair, but don't edge closer to him. "But my career is unpredictable right now, 6 months in Marbella is a long time. And you're, well, everywhere. And you need to focus on that."

"I've multitasked for 5 years," he says bitterly, making you sigh. His eyes are back on the stars, and his back to you makes your eyes blurry again.

"I'm not happy." You finally blurt, making his body stiffen. "I'm really not."

When he looks at you again, his expression reads clearly with fatigue, with anguish. "Please, baby, don't,"

It's your turn to clutch his face, bringing his forehead to touch with yours. Through your contact, you feel the heaves of his body, the breaths he's trying to control. "It's not forever," you whisper, mustering courage. "But we need to stop acting like everything's fine."

"I don't see myself without you."

"You're not," your hold tightens, he leans further into your palm, "but we've grown up together. The flower pot's too small now," you try to joke, he barely can fake amusement.

"I'll buy a thousand new pots."

"We need to clean up the broken one, first." His jaw clenches, you soothe it with your thumb. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He says back, almost silently. "Still wear that Mclaren shirt on race days, I need the luck."

You finally crack a smile. "I'll wear the hat too if my hairstyle permits."

He kisses you, almost convincing himself this if is the last fix he can get for a while, he needed it now. Not that either of you know it, but you both have the same thought. You both notice that your cheeks have each other's tears on them now, not sure which ones came from whom. You were on the same page in that regard, at least.

꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜

"You should ask y/n out," your best friend says to Lando in the middle of a party. He chokes on his drink, not expecting her to come up to him like she did, and not expecting the words out her mouth.

You all were freshly 19, still congregating in someone's living room to try to have a good time. He knew your friends better than he knew you, the newest of the group in town, only having moved to the area with your family when you were 16.

"Should I, now?" He says, recovering from his fright.

"Yeah," she replies, ignoring the sarcasm. "She goes on about you, it's cute. She'd hurt me if she knew I told you, though. Not sure what she sees in you," his eyes narrow at the girl, which she ignores once again. "You'd be lucky to have a girl like her in your life."

That much, he knew. You were fiercely loyal to your friends and family, and treated him with a kindness that made him melt every time. You were funny, and genuine, and not to mention, the most beautiful person he's sure he knows.

When he bumps into you later at the party, he asks you what you're doing the following evening.

That was the story he'd tell people with a proud grin when they ask how you two got together. All you recount is how he nearly ruined your cute top with a shitty guinness.

He's struck with the memory when he sees the guinness logo in the ads on the walls of a restaurant. "Mate," Max all but snaps his fingers. Lando locks back in, humming for what he missed.

"Was just curious if you wanted to go out tonight. They've been texting in the chat about it, I saw you never responded."

Clubbing wasn't as fun as it used to be, not when you weren't dancing your heart out beside him, or waiting in bed with your nose in a book when he came home because you weren't feeling like going out. It felt like a waste of his time, and like he was sucking the fun out of other people's nights.

"'M alright," he says with a tight mouthed grin. "Gonna sit this one out."

Max looks at his friend, seeing through his response. "When's the last time you went out?"

If he had to take an educated guess, you last graced his apartment that night on the balcony, 4 weeks ago. So, 4 weeks ago. Perhaps longer, judging by the schisms. "A while. Not up to it."

"You're torturing yourself."

"I'm not interested in getting shitfaced, Max."

Max looks away for a second, quickly weighing the pros and cons of asking what he's been wanting to for the last, well, 4 weeks. "Do you think Y/n is wallowing too?"

The sound of your name makes his fingers twitch inadvertently, almost like a flinch. "That's not fair."

"I'm serious, Lando. You said she needed a break because she felt like you two were co-dependent and not actually working through problems, and look at you. You're not functioning without her. I mean, it's your fucking birthday next week, and you haven't brought it up once, you realize that, right?"

He knows he's right. Nothing he said was out of line, or wrong, and that's why Lando has nothing to say back. He wants to argue, to prove him wrong, but he can't. He's seen your ads and campaigns, the beautiful shots of you promoting luxury brands and names that your fans only dreamed of owning. Despite the distance, he was so proud of you still. You worked hard, were disciplined and humble through your success. He had texted you when the Dior campaign had launched, and the message of your thanks, with a smiley face, made him, for just a second, think that things were back to normal.

When they left the restaurant, and ran directly into fans, Lando tried to put on his best face for them, smiling for selfies and signing what was gestured toward him. When a sweet looking girl with glasses shyly spoke up, telling her favorite driver where she was visiting from, his tired eyes light up. "You're from there?" He confirms, and she smiles with an eager nod.

"Y/n is too," he almost mumbles, but every fan in earshot heard it. The typical squeals followed, the hushed whispers amonst themselves on if they'd push the questions they were itching to ask or not. And heard it they did, as the encounter made its way onto social media and gossip pages. But Max was right, his mourning period needed to be over, if anything was going to change for the better.

You call him on his birthday. It was nerve wracking, which made you bitterly laugh, because never did you think you'd be nervous to talk to Lando Norris of all people. One of the few people in the world you wholeheartedly trusted.

It had only been about a month since you requested time apart, and he had honored that. The texts were sparse, the calls nonexistent. Although, that was sort of what had brought you to this point anyway. But you were working on yourself, and your career at the same time, and things were looking better. Change never happened overnight, but the journal your therapist recommended, and the disappearance from social media besides professional posts were great starts.

You bite at your cuticle as the phone rings. You take your cell away from your ear, chest panging at the contact name "Lan <3" at the top of the screen. Was he really going to screen your call? Is that what you deserved, possibly?

"Y/n," he finally answers, and you quickly bring your phone back to your ear.

"Hi," you say awkwardly. "Happy birthday, Lando."

"Thank you," he says stiffly. "I'm happy to hear from you."

"Yeah I um, haven't really been on my phone here," you bite harder on your finger. "I think it's nice here, you'd love Marbella."

"I'm sure I would," he says with what you can hear is a smile. "I miss you, you know?"

"I miss you too," you concede, "how have you been?"

"Not great, I won't lie. Much rather would hear about you."

"'s not my birthday," and he smiles a bit at that.

"Well, racing's fine. But Max is sick of my shit, says I've been wallowing."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Yeah."

You don't really know what to say, you've rarely been the perpetrator of his negative feelings. No relationship was perfect, but you all hadn't really hit a communication wall until now. It was uncharted, scary territory. "Well, I wanted to wish you a happy birthday, that was all. Have a good day, really. 24 is a big one. Kobe year, that's what someone said to me. I hope this year is great for you."

"Y/n, wait," he halts your beginnings to hang up. "I'd like to come to see you soon, I've got some time before Abu Dhabi and maybe I could swing by Spain on the way."

"Lando," he absolutely hates that you're calling him by his whole name. Lan, that's what would you called him almost exclusively. Lando feels so formal from you.

He needs to hear it, you know he does. He needs to hear that you want to see him, that you need to see him just as much as he yearns to put eyes on you once more. But you were constantly afraid of accidental manipulation, holding him by some invisbile garotte. But this was his first birthday you hadn't celebrated together since you were 19, that meant something.

"Please focus on racing," you implore, and squeeze your eyes shut before adding, "but you if you'd like to come and it won't be an issue in your plans, you're more than welcome."

꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜

You saw the posts, it wasn't very hard. Fans utterly disappointed that you and Lando hadn't been seen together in ages, putting pieces together quickly after you didn't post for his birthday. It didn't make you feel worse, to be truthful, and to your surprise. You were sure there'd be a barrage of insults hurled your way, maybe a cheating rumor or two. But really, all there was to see were requiems for your relationship, nostalgia for what once was. What did cause you to delete instagram from your phone, was the response to the podcast.

You were single for the time being, that's what you and Lando had agreed on when he visited you. It wasn't an invitation to go out and find the next man to lay in your bed, but you both had agreed that it wasn't healthy to hold out in anticipation of your rekindling.

"You're the only girl I've, you know," he awkwardly trailed off, scratching the back of his neck. He sits up in bed, linens pooling around his hips. Hooking up with your now ex-boyfriend, might've not been your brightest idea, sure, but you were both human, at the end of the day.

"Fucked?" you tease, remaining comfortable against your plush pillow. "I know. First few times kinda showed that."

He looks back at you pointedly. "You cried the first time."

"It hurt!"

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head in fake annoyance. You grin. "I'm sure the girlies are gonna have a field day with you being single now,"

He rolls his eyes again, laying, or rathing slumping, back into the pillow next to you. His arm instinctively comes around the top of your head, you try not to lean into it. "I think I really will finally listen to you and focus on racing."

You turn on your side, admiring his profile as he stares up at the ceiling, probably tangled in his thoughts. His nose sloped perfectly, the little freckles dotting his skin like constellations. Your boy.

"I told my mum."

He snorts. "She hates me now, I'm sure."

"Mm, no, her first ask was what I did," your mom was Lando's biggest fan, through and through. Of course, you were her daughter, but she was convinced he was cosmically made perfectly for you.

He looks at you then, realizing your eyes have been on him the whole time. He copies your position, turning to you so your bodies lay parallel, nowhere to look but each other's eyes.

"Do you regret that I'm the only boyfriend you've ever had?"

You immediately shake your head in denial of the question. "No, not at all," you were lucky, if anything. "You?"

"Well, I've had other girlfriends,"

"Ouch?"

"You knew that," he chuckles, and yeah, you did. "But I don't regret that you're the only one I've been serious about. I still am."

"I know. I am too."

"An ex-boyfriend doesn't lay in bed with you, you know."

"And an ex-girlfriend doesn't still remind your team when your doctor's appointments are,"

"Fair enough, guess we're just weird."

You share a matching grin. "So weird."

So once Alex uploaded the Call Her Daddy episode you were a guest on, and it was official to the masses that you had been single for now almost 4 months, the articles came in. The timelines of you and Lando's relationship, the rumors of him leaving clubs with random girls. You'd be lying if you said you didn't zoom in on some of their faces, relaxing when you recongized most of them as friends or even family members. He wasn't yours to be worried about, you suppose, but you also knew that any girl he decided to share his time with would be a lucky one.

Your friends had tried to get you on dates, that wasn't a lie when you said that on the podcast. But you weren't ever excited to get to know someone new, small talk was painful and you didn't feel comfortable going home with them.

But then, a few weeks later into February, you get a phone call from Lando. "Hi," You answer, pleasently surprised.

"Hey there," he says, sounding slightly out of breath. "How are you?"

"I'm good, great even. Finished up everything down here, leaving Marbella next week to head back home." Home was London to you, not Monaco. You constantly visited, had a family flat there and everything, but couldn't leave officially becuause of your career.

"Congratulations, everything looked stunning," he compliments, and your stomach flutters.

"But um, how are you? I'd ask if you were relaxing, but I'm sure training's well underway."

"Meh, more or less. I'm heading to Surrey next week, actually. Got some stuff to do at HQ."

"Oh," Surrey was only about an hour and a half from where you were in London. "Would you, well, not assuming anything, but if you'd have time to spare, it would be great to catch up?"

This isn't why Lando called you, you fully know this. Who knows what he picked up the phone for, he could be calling to let you know he's eloped with someone he's met in the 6 months you've been apart.

"I'd love to," you hear his grin in his voice. "You haven't moved, have you?"

Not only had you not moved, but you haven't changed much about your flat either. Same bedding, same color schemes, same photos decorating your tables and walls of your friends, family, and Lando. He never took the photos of you down either, and that photo from your 21st birthday was still stuffed in his wallet.

You order takeout, sitting across the kitchen island from each other acting like it didn't feel like your first date again. He acts like he doesn't want to reach out for your hands as you animatedly use them to share stories of Spain, and you act like you don't want to push the curls back that threathen to land over his eyebrows.

The food gets cold as you two catch up, a few glasses of wine becoming a whole bottle gone. You actually can't remember the last time the two of you had done this, and perhaps, absence had truly made your hearts grow fonder.

"Bahrain is on leap day," Lando says, making you gasp.

"That's got to be good luck, no?"

"It's just the first practice,"

"But still, you're starting your first weekend of the year on a special day like that," you muse, "so exciting. I'm excited for you,"

His chest warms at endearment in your voice. You truly and honestly rooted for him through everything, that was one of the things he was most grateful for about you. He knows you don't truly care about all of this, if he won or lost, but that you care about him and his development, how he sees himself and his profession. He fell in love with that about you.

"Would you come?"

You hesitate, daring to look at him from where you had begun to clean the countertop. "To the race? "

He nods, and turn back to the counter. "I don't know, Lan. Is that where we are?"

He hopes so. He's missed you something horrible, prays you missed him just as bad.

Lando takes the cloth from your hand, replacing it with his own. "I know it's only been about 6 months, and that's not enough time to say everything's well and dandy," you fight a smile. "But I want to work through things, with you. I've had nothing but time to consider what was off with us, and I want to be better. For you, more than anything. Yeah, I learned how to be just Lando. But I know I prefer being Lando and Y/n."

You bite your lip, finally meeting his eyes. "I want to take it slow."

"We can do that,"

"So, I don't know if I'm ready for the race. But, my birthday's coming up,"

"It is,"

"And we'll be in Dubai. My sister did it up, got this crazy plan going since it'll be my 25th."

"Quite the old woman you're becoming,"

"Oh get off that," you scoff, pushing his chest. He chuckles and pulls you back into him, where you go willingly. "But, if you can, I'd love for you to come to the dinner."

He raises an eyebrow with a smirk. "You want me to fly to Dubai just for your birthday dinner?"

"You'll be in Saudi Arabia then anyway,"

The smirk gets bigger. "You know my schedule already, love?"

"You're so fucking cheeky, can't stand it," you feign annoyance, but never move from his arms.

He holds you, as your arms delicately find themselves behind his neck, not daring to kiss just yet. To really be honest, you're not sure if you're ready to take that whole plunge.

"I'm happy to be back, even if things are slow. They can be molasses for all I care."

"Thank you for being patient with me," you lean your forehead against his. However, this time, neither of you are crying. Nice, for a change.

"I'd wait decades for you, my love."

After a beat of sweet silence. You speak up once more. "One thing though," he hums to prompt your continuance. "I'm pretty sure, when it's said, it's Y/n and Lando, just so you know."

#is this me projecting? yeah #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader

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sc0tters · 6 months

Text

Hard Launch | Timo Meier

summary: turns out your worries were for nothing when everyone loves the announcement of your new relationship

request: yes/no

warnings: none

word count: 1.16k

authors note: this might be my new favourite type of trope to talk about as the formula one stuff makes me smile (might even have to make an au with a driver) but for now you can look to the celly instead!

Austria had always been your favourite track.

It was the first you scored points, the second you got a podium, and your first win. This was also going to be the first race that your boyfriend was going to watch. As you two started dating last December this was only the second race that Timo would be able to go to after the first was in Canada.

But now you weren’t thinking about that as you watched him sleep in the bed at the hotel “I can feel you staring.” Timo mumbled rolling over as you had been sat by the vanity “just wanted to see my pretty boy.” You cooed getting up as you tied off the end of your braid.

Timo smiled opening his eyes as you sat on the bed next to him “what time are we meant to go?” His hand rubbed against your knee as he propped himself up “Zak has me doing a press conference with Lando this morning so I’ll see you there.” Your words made him frown “I promise you’ll have fun.” You tried to offer him some comfort as you spent him for breakfast with Daniel “good luck today if I don’t see you later.” Timo pressed his lips against yours as he pinched your chin between his fingers.

The boy laughed as you pressed your forehead against his “I’m gonna miss you.” You frowned placing your hand on top of his “after England we will have plenty of time to cuddle.” With almost a month off you two were going to then spend your time in Switzerland.

It made you raise your eyebrows “just cuddle?” Your lips brushed over his “you know that we will be doing a whole lot more than just cuddling.” Timo smirked as his fingers pinched at your side “now I seriously have to go!” You announced getting up as you sent him a salute before you left the room.

Timo knew he loved watching you on tv but that poor boy swore he spent half of that race hiding behind his face as he had watched you defend for your life when Max was on the same tires as you. The cameras had seen him but nobody beyond your friends and competitors on track knew who knew who he truly was to you.

So as you got out of your car and hit your halo as you punched your fists into the air there was only one man you truly wanted to see in that moment “my good luck charm.” You mumble pulling your helmet off of your head “come get your reward baby!” Timo cheered with a smile as you locked your hand into his shirt bringing him down to your level so that you could kiss him.

He loved how cheers erupted from around you both as the clear sound of Max’s laughter came into your ears as Timo smiled into the kiss “who knew you had such game?” The Dutch boy teased as you causing you to stick your tongue out at him.

Months had gone by and even as your fans adored seeing more of you with Timo as you now sat with him in his New Jersey apartment during your break before Las Vegas you felt nerves eat up at you.

Sure you knew it was stupid but all you truly wanted was for his fans to take to you too “what are you thinking about?” Timo smiled seeing you stare at how his jersey looked on you “what if they don’t like me-” he didn’t even let you finish your sentence as he wrapped his hands around your waist “if they don’t then they’re all idiots.” Timo mumbled cupping your face in his hands.

It sent your mind to ease as he kissed your head “besides I’ve got the coolest girlfriend so who gives a fuck?” His accent with the English swear words made you laugh “I love you baby.” He cooed bringing his lips on yours “I love you too.” You nodded running your fingers along the hem of his shirt.

The hockey player hugged you “just have fun tonight and I’ll see you by the locker rooms afterwards.” You smiled as he swayed the two of you on the spot “my love.” You mumbled looking up at him as your chin pressed against his chest.

You had Timo grinning “yes?” He waited to hear what you seemed desperate to say “score a goal for me tonight?” There was a playful sense to your voice causing him to laugh “you know I will.” He tapped your nose causing it to scrunch.

His laugh echoed through your ears as his phone went off “I have to go but I will be seeing you later.” Timo pecked your lips as he saw the message that Nico was downstairs “play your heart out tonight.” You loved watching him walk off in his suit.

The clip from that game that everyone was talking about, including the commentators, was the one of Timo pointing into the crowd after he scored. As he banged his hand on his chest you did the same thing mirroring your own winning celebration. When he ended it off with blowing a kiss in your direction you truly couldn’t handle it anymore as allowing your cheeks to turn red. Of course that was when everyone officially knew that you were together.

Even the reporter who interviewed him after his hat trick brought it up so that meant that everyone was talking about it “how do you feel driving that fast?” Luke asked as he enjoyed talking to you “honestly I don’t think about my speed when I’m on the track.” You shrugged not thinking about it.

It made Jack laugh from beside him “told you we should have come only with us.” Jack ruffled his hand through his younger brothers hair “now can you boys let me see my girlfriend.” Timo turned to you with jealousy evident in his voice.

He was sweaty as his hair stuck to his forehead “there’s my star player.” You smiled walking over to him as you let your hand wrap around his bicep “I’m proud of you.” Your voice was soft as you pushed onto your tippy toes to kiss his lips.

Neither one of you noticed that his teammates were watching the interaction with smiles on their faces “do you boys mind?” Timo tried to glare at them with the hopes that the boys would leave “you think she could let us come visit in Vegas?” Dawson sent you a toothy grin causing you both to laugh.

“You all know that the answer is going to yes.”

Timo

yourusername

📍 las vegas

liked by tmeier96, jackhughes and others

yourusername: winning on the track and on the ice.

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#timo meier #Timo meier imagines #ambers 1000 celly #imagines #oneshots #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #nhl oneshot #nhl imagine #nj devils #amber writes fics

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somerandommess · 17 days

Text

Maxiel au 1400 words

Spies? Hitman? one of them. Idk where this came from but I really want to see what happens next, sadly I’m the one who has to write what happens next. Also, the maxiel is kind of implied…imaginary, almost. Pre relationship kind of. Squint while using a magnifying glass and you’ll see it.

inspired by the adore you verse (@onboardsorasora ) literally so good.

Max walked through the hotel corridors, tapping an envelope in his hand as he went. He kept his head on a swivel mainly to check if anyone was following him, but also to keep an eye out for the room he was looking for.

Suddenly a door opened behind him and he immediately tensed, turning his head around to see who it was. A man in a grey suit walked out talking loudly into his phone. The guy paid him no mind, but he still watched as he made sure he got into the elevator and the doors closed.

A minute passed and he tried to make himself relax. He brought his shoulders down from his ears and removed his hand that, on reflex, went to his gun holster.

He hadn’t always been like this. Two years ago you wouldn’t catch him using a gun. It made things too easy. However, recent events made him pick it up again. That, and the bullet wound in his arm made him decide that he doesn’t care if guns made things easy; getting shot fucking hurt.

He shook out his arms and continued walking.

330…331…332…

He stopped infront the door.

333.

He looked down at himself, his dress shoes had flecks of blood on them and his pants were a little dusty. He frowned but decided he looked good enough. He had stolen a shirt from house keeping earlier, but threw away the nameplate.

Sorry Jerry D. , but he needed to look presentable for what he was about to do.

He knocked on the door.

No answer.

He waited and leaned closer to try and hear if anyone was moving around.

Nothing.

He knows that there’s someone in there because the front desk said they hadn’t checked out yet.

He realizes now that the front desk could have been lying.

He knocks again. This time he hears a thud and mumbling. No one opens the door.

Max has had enough of this.

“Listen I know you’re in there. I have something you want,” he hears the click of a lock, and smiles a bit, “Daniel-“

The door flies open and he’s pulled inside and thrown face first to the floor. He couldn’t catch himself as it was so unexpected and he curses himself for it.

He rolls onto his back and reaches for his gun to shoot-

The gun isn’t there. It’s being pointed in his face.

He leans back on his elbows, “Daniel”

The click of the safety goes off.

Max gulps.

Daniel is in jeans and nothing else. His chest is badly bruised (broken ribs?) and he’s sporting a black eye. He holds the gun in his left hand while the right stays at his side, his trigger and middle finger bandaged together.

With his injuries Max expects his hand to shake, it remains steady.

“Did Zak send you?” Daniel asks.

“No one sent me. I came looking for you.”

“Bullshit”

Max tries to get up, but Daniel fires a shot in the space between his legs.

“What the fuck” he scoots back till he hits the wall, “Do you know whose hotel this is? You can’t shoot me!”

Daniel scoffs, “I didn’t shoot you. I almost shot you, there’s a difference. And Toto knows I’m here, he won’t mind” he waves the gun around before sighing.

He tucks the gun into the waistband of his jeans and sits on the bed. He passes a hand through his hair and looks at the floor.

“What are you doing here Max?”

Max gets to his feet and walks over to the doorway where the envelope he was carrying fell. He picks it up and hands it to Daniel. He doesn’t take it so he rests it next to him on the bed.

“Sebastian has an offer for you. A way out… Revenge.”

Daniel takes the envelope, “Revenge? Last time I tried that they broke my jaw”

Max puts his hands in his pockets, “You won’t be the only one. Fernando went rogue, took Stroll with him. Even George left. He blew up HQ to show he was serious”

He looks at Max surprised. “Russell George…” he murmurs.

Max turns and watches Daniel through the mirror by the door. He watches as he opens the envelope and pulls the paper out halfway. He averts his eyes from the paper but he doesn’t miss the fond look Daniel gives as he reads the letter. Seb has always shown his love for Daniel in his own way.

Daniel puts the letter back and closes the envelope.

“So, what do you want revenge for?”

Max blinks, “Pardon?”

Daniel gets up and stands just behind him.

“I know why I want revenge, and I'm assuming everyone is either getting out or wants revenge. Which one is on your to-do list?”

Max turns and faces him, “You know what they say about assuming,”

Daniel hums and turns to get a shirt from his duffel on the floor. He groans as he stoops and Max wills himself to stay put.

He pulls out a blue party shirt with pineapples and struggles to put it on.

Max can’t take it anymore so he helps him get it over his head. Focusing his eyes on anywhere but Daniels exposed body. When he’s done they’re standing eye to eye and he tries to convince himself that Daniel did not just look at his lips.

Max breaks the silence, “You getting your revenge is enough for me.”

They stand there before Daniel blinks like he remembers something.

“How long ago did George blow up HQ?”

“Yesterday?”

“You think since he you know…that Toto…” he trails off and looks around the hotel room.

“Might try and kill you? Yes” Max finishes.

“We should leave”

“Yes”

They move around the room like a well oiled machine. Max gathering anything belonging to Daniel and shoving it into his suitcase, and Daniel taking note of his various IDs in his duffel.

They leave the room in a hurry, and Daniel is still shoving his feet into sneakers when they reach the stairwell.

They reach downstairs to the car park and Daniel whistles when he sees Maxs car.

Max rolls his eyes and shoves the suitcase onto the backseat with his own.

When he gets in, Daniel is running his hands on every surface.

“It’s just car Daniel”

“A very nice car. Stolen?”

“Rental” he starts it and revs it just to see Daniels reaction.

Daniel laughs and leans back. Max peels out of there with a drift.

A few minutes into the ride, Daniel takes the gun from his pants and tosses it into Maxs lap.

Max tries not to swerve, “It could have gone off!” he curses in Dutch.

“Safety was on”

Max takes the gun and puts it in between them next to the gear stick.

He takes the next left to the airport and Daniel freezes.

“I can’t exactly get on a plane right now. I have people looking for me”

Max rolls his eyes, “Everyone’s looking for you,”

Daniel tenses, “I mean more recently. They’re kind of upset that I stole from them. I can’t fly commercial”

“We’re not” Max says simply.

Daniel goes for the gun and points it at him. Max isn’t fazed.

“We’re flying private”

—-

“Since when did you get a jet?” Daniel watches in shock and awe as they pull up to the aircraft.

“It wasn’t my idea.” They both watch as the door opens and someone comes down the steps.

Max barely has time to put the vehicle into park before Daniel opens the door and steps out.

“Charlie?!”

Charles turns his head, “Daniel!”

They run and hug each other while Max rolls his eyes for what feels like the twentieth time today.

“Where have you been? Last I heard you were in Canada doing wet-work with Scotty”

“That was a year ago”

Charles sighs, “It’s been hard to keep in touch with you,”

Daniel feels guilty, and it must show because then Charles pats him on the back and shoves him up the stairs of the plane.

Max follows carrying two suitcases and a duffel bag.

—

They get settled and Daniel drinks two glasses of champagne.

Charles comes back from speaking with the captain and sits across from him and Max.

“I’m sure you have questions-“

Daniel cuts him off,

“Just one for now,” he taps the window, “where are we going?”

“London” Max answers easily.

“London? What’s in London?”

——

Not beta read

What’s in London? We may never know.

it’s Lewis. He’s in London and he brings them to a base, explanations happen, flashbacks. We find out- [gunshot]

I’ll stop

#maxiel #maxiel au #I really want to finish this #give me like 2 weeks to 5 years to do so lmao #this is me being awkward 😭#so sorry #RIBS au

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imagionary · 7 months

Note

if you're open to talking about them (unless it's more of like a 'reveal information about them over time' type of thing) do you maybe have any information on dave's hollywoods? they're super interesting to me, and i love the fact that imps in your au apparently gain a sort of resemblance to the people they consider to be their boss. i really love the unique design they have too...guys with weirdo eyes just like their boss... also I'M REALLY SORRY if this is like worded weirdly or whatever! this ask was actually originally a lot longer (and it honestly is still pretty long for an ask...) until i realized i should probably shorten it...

totally unrelated as well, but i would love to learn more about this au and stuff, even if it isn't through art! i really liked the sort of writing post you made about the whole 'buck and dave and their connection with high roller in your au' thing and i would definitely love to see more sort of writing posts like that (if you want!)

Golly,, you have no idea how much I loved getting this ask, this is very kind to me, thank you! I'm shy when it comes to talking about our AU, but it means a lot to me that you're so interested in it, and that you'd like to read my silly ramblings! ^v^ 💚

Dave has his three Hollywoods: Left Suit, Middle Suit, and Right Suit. They are his posse, his guys, his main men, his trio, his henchmen sorta, etc, etc.

The three of them are all supposed to look exactly the same, and they did for an extremely long time, however, the first week that Evils and I were telling story, there was a mass layoff happening in COGS.Inc, and Left Suit happened to get fired; Dave was FURIOUS about this, because his Hollywoods were supposed to have special protection against that sort of thing, but he did his best to keep his cool during his time without Left Suit,, the whole situation seemed bogus and fishy to him, but there was nothing he could do about it, so life went on; I think it was around a year since Left Suit had been fired, but it was revealed that it was an inside job; Doctor Googlemuffin and Brian were so incredibly interested in how High Roller had come into being, that they wanted to see if they could make any clone fusions using extracted soul essence from one of Dave's Hollywoods (so, they decided to have Left Suit fired without notifying Dave or anyone else of the reasoning, and slipped his name on the list last second)

Doctor Googlemuffin and Brian's plans worked, albeit better than they had planned; almost every clone fusion they had conceptualized had finished itself just like how High Roller had; except the Aggregator, Top Dog, and Bulldozer all seemed to have a strangeness to them that the two scientists couldn't foresee:

The Aggregator and Top Dog were highly aware that they were created in the lab, and that they were fusions of two peoples blueprints (created using two people's blueprints as basis? Idk how to explain it) (the Aggregator being a secret project that Doctor Googlemuffin was creating to spite Brian; she used Brian and Graham's blueprints as a basis) (Top Dog was created using Graham and Zak's blueprints as basis); both were created with Graham's strangely advanced blueprints, so Brian and Doctor Googlemuffin chock off their peculiarities to being side effects of being created with them in mind;

However, Bulldozer is different. He doesn't have Graham's strange blueprints to blame. He was created with Mr. Wilde and Winnie's blueprints as basis, and he survived the destruction of the conglomerate extension.. well, came back to life after his body put itself back together (he had been mangled and shot through the core multiple times by Spruce to finish him off).

The reason I'm rambling about all of this is because Winnie's pixie dust magic, and Wilde's tough material, blended with Left Suit's soul essence in a peculiar way and it gave Bulldozer near indestructibility and rejuvenation powers like a Hollywood. So, this is why, when Left Suit was alive again, he had gone out and sweet talked Bulldozer and gave him a kiss; he was taking his soul essence back. Being near indestructible and with the power of rejuvenation had left Bulldozer unable to comprehend that the way he was treating the molemen, maintenance crew, and the skelecogs that were building the conglomerate extension (before it exploded) wasn't good. If he could withstand as much as he could, everyone else surely could to, is what he ignorantly believed; so Left Suit took his soul essence back to knock him down a peg; Bulldozer is still incredibly resilient, but he doesn't have his rejuvenation abilities anymore; Bulldozer doesn't know this yet, but once he gets hurt real bad again (hopefully he wont) he'll understand what he was doing to his subordinates.

Golly,, I got side tracked, oops,, so, after Dave had found out about why Left Suit had been fired, and what he was being used for, Doctor Googlemuffin made sure to get Left Suit finished up so she could return him to Dave. Dave was furious about this, he knew that Left Suit wouldn't have all of his soul essence back, but he would take what he could get,, he missed Left Suit so so much,,

However, once Left Suit was finished, he appeared within the darkness in High Roller's office, because, according to his contractual existence, he belonged to Dave,, but High Roller was made with Dave's scrap, so there was a paradoxical issue with the contract,, Left Suit now has feathery fur like High Roller (albeit, his is still white and black and not green like High Roller); Left Suit was there to serve High Roller, but Dave wanted Left Suit back, so he made some contractual changes with High Roller (having High Roller sign that he wouldn't be in charge of any of Dave's Hollywoods) amd they shook signed on it with a cold Inky electric flame entering High Roller's body through their handshake. And thus the deal was made and Dave could keep Left Suit as his own (Left Suit still has feathers that he tries to pluck out, but they always come back, so he hides them so he can look like Middle and Right)

Left, Middle, and Right all have the same voice and think and act relatively the same; however, if someone were to get to know them long enough, it's possible to get to know their differences:

Left Suit happens to talk smoother and can come off as the most friendly and calm of the three; he's got a playful sass to him; he's the weakest of the three now (powers wise), since parts of his essence has been stolen; he's the least likely to get angry

Middle Suit happens to be the most stern of the three, and is normally in charge of trying to calm Dave down when the time arises; he happens to be the most protective of Dave and his wishes; despite Right being more likely to get into trouble, Middle is more likely to get upset (still a rare occurrence that he'd show it though)

Right Suit happens to be the more tricky of the three and can come off as a bit sassy and the most likely to break Dave's rules, however he is also the most trusted when it comes to handling dirty work; out of the three Hollywood's, Right is most likely to "break character" and have his expression change

All of the Hollywoods have little horns that they hide from their appearance, as to appear more normal, like how Dave hides his more monstrous parts

The Hollywoods all have gloves and white cores like Dave, to show that they are under Dave's control; their plug tails can be used to control people like how Dave can with his, however, their abilities to erase or eat people's memories aren't as powerful as Dave's, so if you ever have your memories of an event wiped by a Hollywood, it'll seem like you had a lucid nightmare, but you'll think it wasn't real

The Hollywoods, like Dave, can disappear and appear within the dark; Dave can also use his Hollywoods as extra eyes for him; whatever they see, Dave can see, if he has his thoughts set on knowing (Dave can also give his Hollywoods knowledge of things they're not supposed to know either)

Sorry if this got rambly,, I get shy when talking about our AU, so I hope this answers your question! You're more than welcome to ask questions if you have any

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al-n-cartoons · 9 months

Text

Whilst I wait out the duration of my food’s cook time and avoid my academic obligations, I would like to ramble about an AU/story that I have somewhat written and likely will never post (though I have posted some art…); A Story Told.

Quick background, A Story Told is the bastard child of a fifty thousand word long, abandoned fic I belted out last summer. This story idea kept poking me when I was busy working myself into the dirt, preparing to move, dealing with family nonsense, and poorly managing medical stuff.

The framework of A Story Told is that Ben (Ben 10) becomes slightly displaced from his reality per an attempt on his life nearly succeeding. When Ben gets back from the reality the Omnitrix threw him into, he finds that he pulled bits of other worlds along with him and that his world is now stuck in episodic time loops. He cannot leave the city Bellwood is inside of without leaving his reality, and the loop restarts the moment he’s returned. When tomorrow comes, it is generally after several loops (from a few days to several months). One other person is in Bellwood who remembers the loops, but they don’t exist outside of them; they’re a person who (like Ben) is technically supposed to be dead and had been in the same place that the Omnitrix threw Ben in. This person, of course, is Edward Elric because I make the rules and also Ed’s fun.

Ben and Ed spend the first while trying to figure out what the heck is going on and what the rules are for them. They come to learn that any changes to Ben are undone at the start of each cycle (whenever a day repeats) whereas some changes can stay with Ed (if he has something on his person, it will stay on him the following cycle; if he started with something one cycle and takes it off before the next then he sometimes winds up with two of those items and sometimes winds up with neither). They also learn that either of them can make changes to the areas outside of the city (out of bounds) but that anyone or thing they bring from out of bounds will return to its original location by the next cycle (unless it’s on Ed).

Bla, bla, bla, my food’s ready but I want to keep going. Also, my eldest (Kira) says “Hi” in meowmer. Okay, continuing on;

The two look for anyone who might have answers and eventually come to find some people from beyond bounds who might. Ben finds someone who has accidentally time traveled per portal hijinx (Rex Salazar) whereas Ed finds a small group of people who have been dealing with pseudo undeath and dimension hopping for quite some time (Danny Phantom et co.). While not in a loop, Ben eventually finds Zak Saturday whom at first seems to be a potential resource for answers– but none of these people do. Ben eventually finds a dimension-hopping magical type who has answers and knows what’s going on, but the solution isn’t something that Ben nor Ed find desirable.

What this person (Raven from TT) tells them is that, while Ben avoided death, Ed is supposed to be. Ed exchanged kits body and mind in exchange for kits little brother (FMA 03’s final episode) but was caught up in the Omnitrix’s cheat such that it’s bearer’s reality was bending over backwards trying to correct for someone that shouldn’t be there and simultaneously couldn’t be anywhere else. In cases like this, she explains, the reality eventually wins out and erases the one who shouldn’t be there. The reason why kit hadn’t yet was because Ben was serving as stabilizing agent and was slowing down the process.

Raven tells them that Ed is unable to die in the loops because (1) kits undeath and (2) kit gave kits body to the Gate and the body wouldn’t be allowed to die so long as the Gate still had it. She explains that the reality would erase Ed from start to finish and that the only way out of undeath is rebirth; reincarnation. Ed says that kit doesn’t want to give away kits mind while kit still had it (before the reality had started tearing it at the seams) but that it might be a viable solution if what Raven says will happen does happen.

To put it in plain terms, Ed has been handed an early diagnosis of a terminal illness and is trying to plan the next few (and last) years of kits life. Ben is in the corner trying very politely to not have an aneurysm at the bomb that was just dropped in his lap.

The first loop came when Ben was fifteen and, by the time he is seventeen (when Omniverse rolls around) there have been five years in the loop (but only three outside of them). The loops were originally every other day and, by the time Omniverse comes, they’re only a few times a month. Likewise, Ben eventually learns that he can go to places that should be out of bounds (to Rex or Danny) even when not in a loop.

Alright, I’m running out of steam and need to get back to work. Blaaaaaaaaaaaa.

Bla.

…

(Gwen and Kevin know about the loops and have come to accept that Ben is supposedly a time looper. Max does too– but he thinks it’s just an elaborate cover story to explain why ben never brings around this person who’s Ben’s home screen picture with whom Ben is totally just friends with.)

(Ben doesn’t bother explaining the situation to Rook because he doesn’t think it would make a difference, especially when no one else seems to believe him in the first place.)

#ben 10 #edward elric #A Story Told #it's AU time baby #Rex Salazar #Danny Fenton

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actualbird · 2 years

Note

Hi Zak. It’s me. I am surprisingly not dead.

I suddenly got curious

How hard do you ship Marluke

For me (with Martem) I literally scream MARTEM when they’re next to each other in official media or smth

Yes I know it’s a bit too much but I will go down with that ship

Marluke’s very cool too I am a multi shipper I’m fine with almost all ships

Welp sorry this is getting unnecessarily long I will excuse myself now

-🍁

OH MY GOSH, HI MAPLE!! long time no see, im v glad ur alive and i hope ur doing well :D

and hmmmm....this is a difficult question, cuz the moment i saw it my brain immediately was like "okay how do i numerically quantify ship enjoyment intensity...." and then i read the next lines where u gave examples and oHHH okay thats way easier to do

so here is a non-exhaustive list of things i think answer how hard i ship marluke

when i see them together in official material i also go "OH HEY MARLUKE" like theres one i remember, when tot posted this promotional material for the Flower MR series

i quote retweeted that tweet with something along the lines of "wow they rlly made marius and luke face each other like that, fuckin gay asses <3"

when i do NOT see them together in promo materials, i immediately try and see if i can edit them together anyway. ive done this many times. i will take the hammer and put them together and nobody can stop me

everyday i am co-making a new marluke au with a buddy i met on twitter. not exaggerating when i say everyday. it has been 0 days since our last new marluke au

there are currently 51 fics in the marluke tag on ao3. 11 of them are mine

the cumulative wordcount of the marluke fics ive posted on ao3 thus far totals to 70,647 words. if i exclude the nxx ot5 ship fics (cuz the giann finds out about marius' polycule fic takes a BIG CHUNK), it totals to 51,024 words. make of that what you will

conclusion: i cannot shut up about these two and i do not want to stop <3

pls dont apologize for long asks!! i dont mind in the slightest and i adore talking about these guys in particular hehe. thank you for the ask :DDD

#asks #i gots marluke worms in the brain always. sometimes they sleep but...they are always there #maple!anon

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ao3feed-crimeboys · 2 years

Text

breathe the haunted air

by marvel_middleearth

Wilbur dumps his satchel on a chair, debates doing homework but decides against it, and switches his snow-soaked jacket for his favourite yellow sweater. He grabs his book and flicks back to the second page, returning to a world of angels in basements whose wings have been locked away.

A couple of pages on, the story changes, and then changes again.

Wilbur’s breath catches in his throat.

The third part is about him.

(The boy is the brother of the fortune teller.)

or, Wilbur Soot finds a book in a library. The last thing he's expecting is for it to drag him into a world of magic doors, shady organisations, and a fight to find out how his story ends, before time runs out.

(or, a DSMP Starless Sea AU.)

Words: 5192, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Minecraft (Video Game), Dream SMP

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: Gen

Characters: Wilbur Soot, Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Phil Watson | Philza, Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo, Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Kristin Rosales Watson, Alexis | Quackity, Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Karl Jacobs, GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Darryl Noveschosch | BadBoyHalo, Jack Manifold, Zak Ahmed | Skeppy, Cara | CaptainPuffy, Aimee | Aimsey (Video Blogging RPF), Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Sam | Awesamdude, Clara the Astronaut (Dream SMP)

Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Wilbur Soot, Clay | Dream & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Kristin Rosales Watson & Phil Watson, Alexis | Quackity & Wilbur Soot, Niki | Nihachu & Wilbur Soot, Alexis | Quackity & Karl Jacobs & Sapnap, Kristin Rosales Watson/Phil Watson, Ranboo & Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Ranboo & Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit, Alexis | Quackity & Niki | Nihachu, GeorgeNotFound & Wilbur Soot

Additional Tags: Twins Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, sort of but also not really?, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Magic, Wilbur Soot-centric, Mystery, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Foreshadowing, so much foreshadowing it's actually insane, Platonic Soulmates, that's right folks it's mutual pining platonic edition, (slaps fic) this bad boy can fit so much twins duo content, Niki | Nihachu and Wilbur Soot are Siblings, They/Them Pronouns for Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), karlnapity are in a QPR because i'm aro and i said so, c!tommy is the kinda guy to ask "is anyone gonna be that guy's brother?" and not wait for an answer, one (1) mention of fundy, schlatt is implied, wilbur's constant mood in this is confusion, Secret Organizations, Books, Inspired by The Starless Sea - Erin Morgenstern, featuring c!wilbur collecting siblings like pokemon cards, way too many mentions of lavender tea, cw for canon-typical swearing, quackity is the real mvp of this fic ngl, adding tags as I go

#ao3feed #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #crimeboys #crime boys #crimebois #crime bois #mcyt #This is an automated process #If you see any fic that breaks boundaries #or the fic is yours and you don't want it shared send an ask #it will be looked at and removed if need be

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noirineverysense · 2 years

Text

ACP au - spies and stuff

Yes this exists, yes it will probably continue to exist. Sorryy.

He’s thrown back in the chair, water drips from wet strands of his black hair.

“Well, who was your informant?”

“Fuck you.” Zak seethes. “I’m not telling you shit.”

The team’s target, Kamal Vittal, sighs before making a gesture to his henchmen. Zak is pulled out of the chair again and his head is pushed into a tank filled with water.

Bubbles rise to the surface as he thrashes and fights to breathe. He’s kept down longer this time until it feels like his chest might explode.

Them he’s pulled out and he takes gasping breathes of air. Vittal forces him to his knees with a simple shove down.

“Who is it agent? You’re not really going to die for a traitor, are you?”

The image of Ash flashes in his mind, his stand-offish attitude that slowly made way for his inner charm and warmth. And slowly made its way into Zak’s heart.

He flushes at the thought, he’s not sappy like Isaac and Arthur. The two co-leaders were already starting to make comments about them being reminded of themselves. Like Layla said, he was running short of jokes that didn’t sound hypocritical as is.

The thoughts of his team make his eyes sting with tears. It’s been so long now. They were coming to get him soon. Right?

“Oh, is it all getting too much for you, boy?” Vittal sneers. “If you give me the name, I’ll let you go, how about that?”

Zak wipes his eyes angrily, “I’m not saying anything, how many times do I have to say it? Losing your hearing or something?”

Vittal growls before storming to the spy. He grabs Zak by his hair and drags him to the tank.

Zak struggles against the painful grip. Fear taking over him as he’s forced to face the water, his nose already getting wet.

“I’m not going to let you up this time. I will drown you if you do not give me the name right now.”

Zak watches his bloodied and beaten reflection, his skin starting to go pale from being kept in dark cells all day. A single tear drips, adding to the endlessly large trough.

“I said no. Kill me already. I’m not telling you anything.”

His head is plunged underwater, the world turns to a blue hue as he tries to hold his breath. His hands grip the edge of the tank and he tried to pull himself up, but the fist clenched in his hair stays, pushing him down into the water

He watches as bubbles of breath escape him and he knows that his time is limited. He tries to think of his team as his last thoughts. His lungs feel like they are going to burst.

His legs kick out in one last attempt to escape. Eventually, he can’t hold his breath anymore and large air bubbles burst at the surface of the water. The body underwater start to go limp, staying there even as the hand lets go, and a tear rolls down his cheek.

Suddenly, he’s pulled out in one quick motion. He feels his back land in another’s arms as he retches and coughs out water. Words fall out of the mouths of two blurry figures and he can’t make out either.

Zak can tell that some kind of fighting is happening around him, grunts and gunshots surround him. He starts to be able to understand the words someone is mumbling to him.

“It’s going to be okay, Zak. We’ve got you, I’m sorry we took so long.”

He looks up to find two people, Isaac and Ash, the latter with tears in his eyes.

“Zak! Are you okay?”

Zak pulls his lips into a shaky grin, “Never better.”

Isaac smiles back and the three are joined by Arthur and Layla who had managed to take down Vittal and his henchmen.

Arthur ruffles his hair and looks at him sadly.

“I’m sorry, Zak. We couldn’t find him. We didn’t stop looking, I swear.”

“I know, it’s okay, Arthur.”

The sniper of the team let out a huff of laughter. “You’re doing just fine, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, Layla. I wasn’t about to die or anything. You can all go back if you want.”

Ash huffs before picking Zak up in a bridal carry, much to the flustered protests of the other.

“I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

Zak sighs before leaning into him. “If you say so.”

“I do.”

They both share a look before laughing. Ash starts to walk out of the room, carrying Zak with him. Isaac and Arthur follow, leaning into each other as they talked. Layla sighs at the group’s romantic nonsense before walking out of the door behind them. She stops in the dark corridor as the others continue to make their way out of the base.

Her trained ears pick up a small sound. “Hey!” she calls out. The others stop. Arthur’s expression darkens.

“What is it? Did he have back-up?”

Layla just puts a finger to her lips and quiet whimpers could be heard.

She follows the noise, taking out her gun before entering another room.

There was a girl in the corner, a leather collar around her neck and a tag around her ankle.

Ash’s eyes widen.

“R-Rosie?!”

#amow mafia madness #swimming with the fishes #drowning #interrogation #near death #human trafficking #acp spy au #acp

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dyinginlava · 3 years

Note

Sparrow's mutual destruction au, Sapnap tries to hunt down Dream. One day he sneaks up on Dream and Wilbur, and since he's hidden he gets to see and hear how Wilbur treats him when no one's around.

ok so Zak *may* have converted me to dsmp!Dreambur. dynamic is good ok, especially in mad au. uh tw for implied torture, some injuries and caring for them, and implied manipulation from Wilbur

He wanted to keep his promise. He should, shouldn’t he? He’d told Dream that if he escaped the prison, he’d be the one to take his last life. He hadn’t expected this though— hadn’t expected Dream escaping with a revived Wilbur, the two disappearing, presumably to prepare before attacking.

He’d been the first to volunteer to track them down, because he had something the others didn’t.

A compass.

He’d been tracking them for a few days, and even with their head start, he knew he was getting close. His suspicions were confirmed when he picked up the sound of voices a bit ahead of him.

“Just stay still so I can change the bandages!”

“We can’t afford to sit around, they’re still after us!”

“Just... sit... down!”

Sapnap glimpsed around the corner only to see Wilbur sitting by Dream, carefully unwinding bandages from the others arm.

Dream had a lot more scars then he remembered.

“You’re hurt as well” he heard Dream point out. He took a better look at Wilbur and spotted a nastily looking wound along his arm. Skeleton arrow was his guess.

“Eh, it’s just a scrape. We only have so much supplies anyway, and you’re more hurt. What if they catch up to us and kill you?”

Dream reached forwards, grabbing Wilbur’s hands.

“But what if they kill you? I— I won’t let them do that, you’re not allowed to die, alright? You’re the only one I have left”.

Wilbur looked away for a moment.

“That’s true I suppose. Everyone else has betrayed you. Betrayed us. Even your best friend promised to kill you, you told me that. It’s to be expected I suppose. People don’t care about monsters like you and I”.

Sapnap held back a snarl at how nonchalantly Wilbur said that. He’d never betrayed Dream he’d just... left him on the word of his enemy, right when Dream had needed him most. God, he was an idiot, wasn’t he?

His realisation was overshadowed by what happened right after, something he couldn’t have predicted.

Dream leaned forwards and kissed Wilbur. And Sapnap— look he’d known Dream since they were younger but he’d always assumed that if he ever ended up getting with a guy, it would be George, or someone like him at least. Not Wilbur Soot, founder and destroyer of L’Manberg, father of one, and previously deceased.

Wilbur himself seemed shocked for a moment before leaning into the kiss. As he pulled out of it he smiled at Dream, something glinting in his eyes.

“Just follow my lead. I’m the only one who still cares about you— we can do great things together”.

The two got up and left. Sapnap let them.

#dream smp #dsmp #dream smp fanfic #dream smp fanfiction #mutually assured destruction au #my writing #my drabbles #ask tag

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tacticianlyra · 3 years

Text

Found-Family AU

Title should be self-explanatory, but for context:

Zak is not Doc and Drew’s kid. He’s still Kur.

His parents in this situation were...not the best people, and through certain events he ended up on his own.

Best fam still comes together.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It wasn’t too bad, once he’d gotten some basic supplies, which included but wasn’t limited to: blankets to line the old tree’s hollow, a mosquito net to hang up to keep (most of) the bugs out, a cooler, and a fishing rod.

Zon was a huge help in getting those things, too—she kept everyone distracted by flying around and making noise. A pterosaur was way more interesting than some nobody kid stealing stuff.

It wasn’t like he wanted to steal things, but what else could he do?

It wasn’t too bad, even if it got a little lonely. Zon might not have been able to talk back, but she was really good at listening, and kept the more dangerous animals away. Turns out jaguars didn’t appreciate getting dive-bombed.

And, well, she actually helped with keeping his hair not-tangled.

It was actually kind of nice, not having to worry about anything, even if he had to make weekly trips into town just to get more bottled water. The river water looked disgustingly muddy, so he wanted that option to stay emergency-only.

There was no one to bother them out there.

At least, not usually. It wasn’t too often (or ever) that they came back to the nest to hear voices.

“Looks like those shopkeepers might be right,” a man was saying. “Someone really did train it.”

“But who would want to train a pteranodon to act as a distraction for the sake of petty thievery?” A woman this time—and that was all that could be said before Zon made her presence known.

Time to put his sad attempt at a fishing spear to good use.

“Hey, leave her al—ahh!”

Of course someone—something—else was there. The good news was that it (no wait, he) obviously hadn’t expected Zak to come running out of the undergrowth, since he’d screamed too.

“Fiskerton what—” The lady stopped short at turning to see Zak, almost dropping her…oh.

“That’s so not fair!” Zak heard himself whine at seeing the actual sword.

“What the…” the man trailed off, looking confounded and oh this was a fight they were going to lose if they stayed—

Zak turned around and bolted in the opposite direction, trying to remember the path he’d figured out in case something like this ever happened. Left, right, past the tree that bent sideways halfway up, left again—and then scrambling up the twisted old tree that had all the thick leaves.

He could hear Zon calling, which meant she was okay. She’d lead them away and lose them, like they’d practiced, and then they’d…

Zak groaned, putting his face in his hands. They’d have to move further downstream again now, which meant an even longer walk to town.

But staying wasn’t something they could risk. Last time they’d tried that after some hikers had found them, the police had come looking for them.

A minute crawled by. Then two. Then—

“Eschewi?”

Then he almost fell out of the tree. And got caught by the…gorilla-cat? Yeah, Zak was going to go with that.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“I—I don’t understand,” Drew managed to say finally. “Why is there a kid out here?”

Doc didn’t answer right away, instead looking up at the still-circling avian cryptid. “I don’t know, but we should probably go after him first.”

“I’ll go after him. You go after the pteranodon.”

“But Drew—”

“Doc, he ran after he saw you. I think you scared him.”

Her husband looked like he was about to protest that, but stopped before he said anything, instead sighing. “I guess he did look pretty spooked there. Let me know if you find him.”

It had rained the night before, which meant mud. Mud meant clear footprints, for the most part—but Drew still had to give this kid some credit. He’d taken routes that were more or less overgrown, and it was honestly only because Fiskerton had a more-than-decent sense of smell that they didn’t lose the trail at one point.

She’d gotten a ten-second look at the kid before he’d bolted, but now that Fiskerton was bringing him down from the tree…it was a little too obvious that he’d been on his own for a while, with how dirt-stained both his clothes were. His shoes looked like they were preparing to fall apart, and his hair (two-toned, mostly black but with a blonde fringe in the front) was an absolute mess.

That his expression had gone from panicked to defeated and then to blatant distrust might as well have been a physical blow. He couldn’t have been any older than ten.

A ten-year-old shouldn’t look that guarded.

“Hey there kiddo,” she greeted, smiling in a way that she hoped looked earnest enough. “What’re you doing all the way out here?”

“Just hanging around,” was the sarcasm-dripping response. Fiskerton put him down seconds later, doing his equivalent of a sheepish look. “What do you want?”

“I just wanted to ask you a few questions. Is that okay?”

His eyes went from the dirt up to her face. Bright amber, almost orange actually—but maybe it was just the sunlight making them look that way. “What kind of questions?”

“Do you live out here? By yourself?”

“With Zon.”

“And Zon is…?”

The kid bit his lip, before mumbling “Not sure what she is. Something dinosaur.” In other words, the pteranodon.

Oh no, Drew was not liking the picture this was painting. “Okay, you live with Zon. And—what’s your name?”

“What’s yours?”

She didn’t get a chance to answer, because then there was a harsh screech from overhead, and Drew found herself having to dive out of the way of an angry pteranodon-named-Zon.

“W-Wait, no, Zon, it’s—it’s okay!” the kid shouted, waving his arms a bit. And that might as well have hit a switch, with how fast she went from aggressive to trying to outright preen him. At least until Doc got there, because then it was “one wrong move away from having to find them again.”

“Drew?” Doc started quietly, questioning.

“I got this,” she replied at the same volume.

The kid was frowning slightly, still tense. “That’s your name?”

Drew nodded, smiling again. “Yep. And this is my husband Doc.”

“…that’s not a name.”

There’s a pause, before Doc says “It’s a nickname.”

“And that’s Fiskerton.” Fiskerton, who had gone up the tree the second Zon had made her entrance, waved.

The kid stared at him for a few seconds, before saying “You gotta guess mine.”

…honestly? Drew really should have seen that one coming.

#The Secret Saturdays #TSS #TSS AU #this is a first draft btw

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funky-boat-zone · 3 years

Note

So in the last post you said how Captain Zero almost named Boomer, 'Zoomer' - So do you have any ideas on what the Z-stacks were named before Captain Zero bought them?

good question! admittedly i haven’t really considered this and while i was still debating on whether this or zero only buying tugs with “z” names makes more sense, i’ve decided it was probably a combination of both. i haven’t decided if this is canon to the z-stack!boomer au, but i’ll probably use these names in some of my aus.

[[MORE]]

zorran— maybe it wasn’t intentional, but it kinda invokes “morran”, which is one letter off from the fleet the z-stacks were based off (moran). as for an in-universe explanation, whoever named him added the extra r to avoid any legal disputes. of course, his old fleet immediately noticed how much the name sounded like “moron” and proceeded to give him a terrible time about it.

zebedee— he might not have needed a name change, since zebedee is a pre-existing biblical figure who was a fisherman.

zip— pip. i don’t have any elaborate explanation for this one. zip was very happy to have his name changed to something more “menacing”, though.

zak— mak. definitely a strange way to spell it, but there have been boats with much weirder names. on top of keeping the “z” theme, zero didn’t want him getting confused with big mac.

zug— lug, his builders jokingly named him after the word for “dragging a heavy/bulky object with great effort” and for irony’s sake, since it implied that he was a much bigger vessel when he was actually pretty small. he didn’t find the joke especially funny.

#asks #this is tugs #headcanon tag

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kariachi · 3 years

Text

Inspired by last night’s everything, some reboot au fic involving Doc, Drew, and Eva

The last time he’d seen Eva had been at a family reunion. She’d been bold and bright as ever, sporting a black eye, thirty-eight stiches, and a grin as sharp as good cheddar as she stalked around the property. Like every year she’d been like a heartbeat for the event, strong and dependable, relating old family stories with the same energy and grandeur as she did her own tales of adventure and crime. Thirty-one with a husband who was wearing on her nerves and a child who’d been nicknamed ‘Dangerprone’ by half the family and ‘Trouble’ by the other she had still exuded the same energy and easy confidence from when she was twenty. The perfect picture of a Jones woman.

You’d have almost thought it wasn’t the same woman at his door.

“My baby,” were the first words out of her mouth and a quarter of the reason Doc knew this mess in a deerskin cloak was his cousin.

“Would probably appreciate you looking less like death,” was his immediate Jones-blood response. Even forgetting the state of her clothes, or the blood in her teeth, she looked like she hadn’t slept since that day when she’d hugged he and Drew goodbye, pried their children apart, and threatened to start inviting them for holidays.

“Well excuse me,” she griped in response, hefting a rustic, woven bag over her shoulder as she all but shouldered her way inside, “I’ve been stuck in the Fae Realm for what turns out to be eleven fucking years, it’s been a time.” For a split-second Doc almost gaped, then just shook his head.

“We probably should’ve guessed, with this family.” Sometimes he felt bad, like maybe if he didn’t have Jones in him his family would deal with less, everything, but then again

“Slasher!” But then again if Doyle was any indication Drew’s family had been the same way. As soon as his wife had rounded the corner and seen Eva she bolted down the hall, nearly bowling the poor woman over as they clung together in a fierce hug. “We thought you’d finally gotten yourself killed!”

“You should be so lucky,” Eva replied, squeezing her back. “It’s nice to see somebody here loves me.” Doc started, nose wrinkling.

“I love you, I’m just worried about you dying in my front hall.” Kevin’d already been through more than enough, he didn’t need his first time seeing his mother in nearly two-thirds of his life being dead on the floor.

“I’m fine,” she said, like a liar, “I just- You guys put too much into picking this place to not still be living here at least part time, Connecticut is too far to hitchhike in comparison, and I’d like an update on Avi and Edie as soon as possible, thank you.”

“Well, for one thing Edie is Kevin now.” Pulling back, Eva blinked at Drew with a slight gape to her mouth. Doc patted her shoulder.

“Yeah, you missed that revelation by a few years.” She gaped some more, then shut her eyes, took a deep breath, and recentered herself.

“That is going to make some of the promises I made to get back so awkward,” she muttered, shaking her head, “but we work with what we’ve got. So, my son, my husband, updates.” Drew and Doc shared a look over her head, a silent agreement that slow was probably best.

“Well,” Doc said, as the one who’d known her pretty much their whole lives, “Kevin’s in town with the boys.” Ever since he’d gotten his driver’s license he’d been even harder to keep track of than before. “They’re supposed to be back here tonight but, he’s very much your son, and Zak is very much Drew’s son, so we’re hoping for tomorrow.” Eva snickered as Drew blew a raspberry at him, throwing an arm over her shoulder and leading her deeper into the house.

“We’ve had custody,” she explained, “for the past couple of years. As far as your husband-” Drew had not said his name since Kevin was found and she was not about to start, she didn’t care how it affected her karma, nirvana could wait “-he’s in prison right now for reasons we’ll discuss after you get a bath and a fucking nap.” With a slight frown on her face Eva nodded.

“As long as Kevin’s alright, I can deal with anything else.” A fact nobody doubted- the only question was whether that dealing would involve her shotgun.

“He’s doing fine.” Not a lie. He hadn’t been doing well before, but the past few years had been good for him. “The perfect picture of a healthy, active Jones.” Immediately on hearing those words it was like a weight came off her shoulders and the same Eva who’d once spent twenty-six hours wandering the swamp looking for Doc’s lost little butt shone in her eyes again.

Dealing was definitely going to involve the shotgun.

#fanfic #doc: holy shit what happened to you?!#eva: fae #doc: ...i can't even say i'm surprised

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milkboxing · 5 years

Text

STRIKING GOLD ↯ txt

SUMMARY ⋮ your somewhat notoriously influential high school garage band urgently needs a replacement to their keyboardist whose arm is broken and you happen to be, at the precise instant they find you, free-styling the tomato song on the antediluvian piano found in the music room.

GENRE ⋮ humour, rock band!au, high school!au

ZAK’S NOTE ⋮ guitarist!beomgyu kept darting from one corner of my mind to the other and i just couldn’t help but write this shit.

Committing irreparable mistakes was one of the few things that Huening Kai was known to be good at by all, and even if he knew the repercussions that his broken arm due reckless biking would have on his band and the performance they were supposed to give for the upcoming school festival, the chances of him wearing his elbow pads would most likely be one in a million. He was nevertheless the happy-go-lucky and sickly optimistic boy he was and despite the fright he gave to his elder band mates, they chose to overlook his misconduct after a few inevitable reproaches. However, as much as they wish they did not have to race against the time that was quickly catching up with them, they could not let down the school, their local audience and all the threatening fingers pointed at them. Precisely. Like that of the vice student council onto whose frail shoulders the accountability of preparing for that event of capital importance reposed. Rumour had it that she was planning the murder of Soobin, the band’s leader who was also her prime partner as the previous student council but the latter was so taken up by rehearsals that he was bound to ditch the poor girl.

“For the last time Soobin,” she hissed, poking the tall boy’s chest, a visible crease between her eyebrows, “I have painstakingly managed to deal with everything encompassing the festival so far, if you plan on calling it quits with your band, you better be giving me a helping hand. . .” She was unable to complete her sentence as he heaved out an exasperated sighed. “I’m sorry,” he softly let out, running a hand through his hair, avoiding all eye contact with her, “I’d gladly do that but the dean is counting on us and he firmly believes that with or without Kai we should be in a position to perform. He says that we’re his meal ticket, whatever that is supposed to mean.” The girl frowned and Soobin’s pupils were then shaking a little. “I can’t put my hand on someone to replace Kai yet,” he added, “I’m sorry once again, Eunji. Once our lives are back to normal I’ll treat you to tteokbokki or any food you like and you have my word this time!” Soobin left with fast steps after patting her on her shoulder, picking up his pace as he spotted his classmate and best friend, whom you believed to be named Choi Something, at the other end of the corridor. Eunji turned and with battered puppy eyes, watched his back as it shrunk and muttered under her breath, “Screw you and those convincingly cute dimple of yours.”

You didn’t mean to but you happened to hear that part and you subtly reared your head, enough to peek at Eunji behind the door of your locker, her shoulders drooping like withered flowers and her braided hair unfortunately resembling a fringed mayhem. A pat on the shoulder? you mentally sympathised with her, she must have reached the peak of being friend-zoned. Banging the aperture of your locker shut, you readjusted your duffel bag on your shoulder and checked your watch, incognisant to the fact that the obnoxious noise you had produced snapped the elder girl out of her morose rêverie. Undecisive about what you would do of all the time you had to kill, you roamed around the busy school hallways where students were darting to and fro with boxes, boxes, desks and more boxes but none of the classrooms you passed by was fully empty. Somehow, while your conscience was swimming among the waves of Antlantis, your steps led you to the music room which reeked of mildew and the air was so heavy — especially when the greasy, brownish curtains gave the eerie impression of drawing the four walls closer together, as if the room was gradually shrivelling while the obscurity was lurking around, waiting to seize the opportunity of gobbling you up — that you had to suffocate a gulp in your throat.

Without losing any more time, you casted off your bag and dumped it on a chair, grateful enough that the abandoned desks, despite catching enough dust to permanently change of colours, were not covered in bird or lizard shit as you expected it. You pulled apart the curtains, strenuously opened the rusty windows, the hinges of which categorically refused to move due to rust, turned on the fan and instantly regretted it as the dust started swirling and chaotically flying around the room, making of you a Reindeer Rudolf who could not stop sneezing. To top up the whole thing, you stubbed your foot against the piano bench while you were blindly reaching out for the button to switch off the fan, your eyes stinging. Five minutes later, the dust had stabilised, the room was well aerated, the odour had either dissipated or been assimilated by your complex organism to such an extent that you couldn’t smell it the same way anymore, and your fingers were lazily gliding along the keys of the old piano. Loud footsteps and muffled voices that you knew belonged to the members of your somewhat notoriously influential school band could be heard in the corridor but you couldn’t care less.

Suddenly, an idea struck your head and you would have sworn that if your life was a cartoon, a light bulb would have popped up above your head at that very instant. Using your limited knowledge of whatever you had picked at the piano tuitions you had attended for six years and recently quit, you started skittering your fingers along the keys of the piano, your touch leaving whitened fingerprints everywhere. What seemed much better in your mind to be the melody of the nastily catchy and annoying tomato song, a famous nursery rhyme, escaped from the musical instrument and after a few more tries and unusual determination that you find hard to show for your studies, you managed to upgrade it to the most resembling version of the original song. You were, unluckily, too busy having an intense and sensational performance for your imaginary public, fervently tapping on the keys while humming to the lyrics that you missed to realise that the hallway had grown oddly silent and the door creaked open to reveal a few curious heads, piled one onto the other.

“LUMPY AND GORGEOUS FIGURE DRESSED IN RED—” yelled a voice that you failed to recognise because of how strained it sounded, but that nevertheless called you back to earth and drove you into ending the song with a sinister piano version of a keyboard smash. “—SWEET AND SOUR FLAVOUR, FASHIONABLE TOMATOES!” sang the oldest boy of the bunch, showing up with a seemingly dyed silver hair (unless you were right to think his hair turned grey, from all the stress he bore.) You stared at him, an inevitably judgemental expression adorning your face as the other boys projected either revulsion or amusement on their faces. Except Taehyun, this boy could withstand anything with an intimidating poker face but somewhere you could sense his confusion. “Yeonjun-hyung— hyung—” called out Beomgyu, a sophomore student whom you knew to be the lead guitarist of the band. He was a likeable guy, cheerful and a little irksome with his crazy loud laughter at times but based on what you’ve learnt he didn’t have many friends from his grade and hence hung out with your classmates Huening Kai and Taehyun all the time. “That’s enough hyung, yOU CAN SHUT UP NOW!” he yelled, calling the elder boy back to reason. Thankfully that sufficed, you were ready to fling your bag at the grey haired dude’s face. The two of them winged up bickering while the three others boys turned their faces to you (and that sucks because you had mentally planned on tiptoeing to the door while they were distracted), eerily in synchronisation, their lips stretching into mysterious smiles. Oh fuck, you cursed under your breath, they want something from me.

ii.

“To quote Hamlet,” you exasperatedly explained, slowly and emphasising on each word, “act three, scene three, line ninety-two, NO.” The boys’ faces fell, apart from Kai’s. He didn’t know how to give up and you could definitely tell that from the way his hazel eyes scrutinised you, that he was not going to give you the heave-ho so soon. Kai was a tough cookie — come hell or high water, he would neither avert his firm gaze from you, nor allow you to take the french leave and even less erase that fucking aweless rictus from his mouth. In other words, you were trapped like an artless little rabbit in a den of wolves. “Come on, please. . . [name]. . .? That’s your name, right?” trailed off Soobin, his glances endlessly shifting from his teammates to you, making sure to obtain nods and other responses of approbation. You couldn’t help but remark that despite his eminent presence, he was not especially self-assured for a leader. “Yeah, and no. The festival is tomorrow and there’s no way I could play a fucking keyboard for you. I won’t even be able to memorise the song lyrics,” your eyes widened as you added, “actually scratch that, i don’t even know how to sing!”

“Hey, calm down,” reassured Kai, snaking his arm around your shoulders, “We’re not asking you to be Mozart or Maria Carey. The melody is short and pretty repetitive so just being in tune will do. As for the singing. . . Simply try not to sound too much like a dying whale.” You gave him a sarcastic smile as he dumbly responded with a giddy one. Slapping away his arm, you replied on a passive aggressive tone, “First of all, don’t touch me unless you want to lose the other arm as well and secondly,” you turned to the rest of the boys, “I’d rather keep a low profile, if I ridiculise myself tomorrow I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get over the embarrassment of it. . .” The room suddenly fell tragically silent, the tense atmosphere weighing like a heavy load on everyone’s shoulders. “You won’t make a fool of yourself,” spoke up Taehyun. Your eyes met his and he firmly stared back, without showing any sign of emotion, like he usually does and you were reminded of his forgotten presence. “We’re not expecting you to be perfect [name]. There are times when the microphones decide to betray us in the middle of a performance, or a wrong guitar chord, a minimal voice crack that can seem to put it at stake. . . We don’t give perfect stages because we are only here to have the blast of our lives. My point is that, it’s human to make mistakes but that shouldn’t stop you from going forward,” he lectured in the most Taehyun-ish style ever. He had always been the voice of reason, as far as you remembered. “I mean, they usually make mistakes,” he pointed at his members, “not I.” Involuntarily, a giggle left your throat as the four other boys scoffed and wailed disapprovingly.

After five long minutes of debating your inner self and considering all the pros and cons to their proposition of being the substitute of Kai for the festival, you decided to simply say fuck it and gave in. “I’ll do it—” Your sentence was cut short by the band members’ relieved sighs and exclamations. (You were persuaded that the one who cried out for his mum was the grey haired dude.) “—but on one condition!” The boys exchanged confused glances with each other and some of them obviously gulped, fearing that you might want from them something that they could hardly afford. “What is it?” asked Soobin but more boldly than before. “Well, don’t ask me to put on some winged eyeliner, smoky makeup, a leather jacket and Doc Martens or I’m going to turn into the Hulk, crack my fucking shirt open and step on your necks; then run back home to wear a comfy pair of PJ’s!” The oldest of them all replied with a strangled chortle, “Don’t worry about that. As the person in charge of outfits here, I’ve made sure our Lumberzacks theme will be on point.”

“That’s even worse, goodness,” you sighed, “I quit.”

“I’m Yeonjun, by the way,” he introduced himself, coming forward to shake your hand, “Senior year, previous ace of the basketball team and top student. I’m pretty sure you know me already though.” You winced. You didn’t. “Not really but you have a nicer name than I would have thought. I had mentally named you Grandpa, because of your grey hair, you know?” you patted Yeonjun on the shoulder, “No offence though, I love the colouring. Besides, as our dear friend Kang Taehyun, right here, would say; there’s no shame in growing old—” His aura turned from charming kitty to growling dog in a matter of seconds. “If you really sing like a dying whale out there, you’ll be a depilated bitch after the performance.”

“Oh yes, snatch my wig bud.”

iii.

Two hours before the opening of the embellished hall, you were sitting on the cold parquet, amidst the mess of cables and under the colourful projector lights, eating a pizza with Beomgyu and Kai. Newspapers were glued to the windows and the curtains were closed, with only a few glow-in-the-dark stickers in form of spaceships, planets and other celestial bodies glimmering dimly in the atrociously dark hall. The decor was breathtaking; there were painted balls of all sizes hanging at the edge of the stage and ovnis and rocks made of papier mâché surrounded the musical instruments and a marmalade orange and yellowish tie-and-dye bedsheet was hung behind them, portraying a sunset or what the boys believed to be in some way, the atmosphere on planet Mars. Having arduously practised with them and with the generous assistance that Kai brought to you, despite his little piques and the other things he does, rubbing you the wrong way, you felt like you were ready to give an otherworldly show.

Yeonjun approached the three of you, with a hanger, a black sweater dangling from it and the name of their band, TXT, written somewhere on it. He stole the last part of the pizza before handing you the piece of clothing (more like throwing it in your direction.) You heaved out a sigh of relief. It was not like you actually believed he would pull out a pink checkered shirt and an axe for you but for your defence, he sounded strangely convincing when he brought up the Lumberzacks concept, the previous day. “You can keep it,” he said, while taking a seat in your circle, “Mm, this pizza is so good! I’m seriously starving right now.” Kai reached out for a can of Sprite but after a few failed attempts of plucking the tab in order to open it, you had to do it for him. That was when, out of the blue, it hit you. “Hey Kai,” you made direct eye contact with him, “you don’t need your arms to sing, do you?” The boy choked, soda threatening to precipitate down his nostrils as you disgustedly passed a tissue paper to him. “I— I don’t but. . .” he gulped, “you’re not thinking of. . .”

“Yup. I’m definitely thinking of getting you a sweater, a microphone and a damn chair,” you stated, to which he retorted: “Look at how aesthetically appealing the stage is, you don’t wanna drag a chair in the middle and have me in my plastered arm sing in front of the whole school—” You tutted, interrupting him, totally unwilling to hear him whine lamer excuses. “Fuck the aesthetic Ning,” you claimed, “I’m dragging your ass onto that stage whether you like it or not.” He was bound to surrender when Beomgyu added, his cheeks filled with food, “Datsh right bruh shtahp bein ah pushy! (That’s right bro, stop being a pussy!)”

At four, the hall had turned into a hive of activity and three quarter of the whole student body at school was present, their mobile phones as well as a ton of snacks in hand. It was soon filled to the brim, and in the middle of the tumult, you spotted Eunji, strenuously hopping and snaking among the sweaty bodies of the cantankerous students while murmuring “excuse me” nonstop. She was carrying a huge pack of water bottles and you realised that they were for the band but you were internally worried about her visible dark circles and her trembling hands, fearing that she might collapse at any instant. On seeing her approaching the door of the dressing room, you stepped forward so as to receive her. All of a sudden, Eunji tripped over someone’s bag and would have heavily fallen to the ground if Soobin had not bolted at the speed of light to catch her. Some of the water bottles had left the pack and you hastily picked them up from the ground but before entering the changing room again, you slightly peeked at the two oblivious lovebirds. “This festival is not worth you losing sleep over it,” reassured Soobin, grabbing the girl by the shoulder while leading her to a free place (where he had intentionally placed his belongings before) in the front row, “you’ve done a great job and it’s thanks to you if today’s event is a success. Sorry again for being such a dick but if it’s not too much to ask, would you like to stay. . .?” A sparse blush highlighted the tall boy’s porcelain cheeks and a smile made its apparition on his brightened face when Eunji accepted his proposal.

“See you later, then.” He awkwardly waved at her.

“Sure. Good luck Soobin!”

The enthusiasm in the hall was electric. The cheers were deafening and the flashes of the camera would have blinded you if you did not focus on fixing the keys of the keyboard instead of staring at the crowd, in the obscurity, dancing and a particular little group of them screaming along the lyrics. You exchanged complicit, overjoyed glances and smiles with the other members of the band. Soobin’s singing lines, as you had guessed, were mostly dedicated to the vice student council, you concluded as you caught him several times, glancing in her direction. When Beomgyu’s solo part came, the projector lights all focused on him and he went hardcore, passionately plucking on the strings of his beloved guitar, his neck veins popping and sweat dripping down his cheeks. For the split of a second, you felt your own heart skip a beat. Goodness, you soared, he indeed is a ladies’ man. What was at first a performance that you dreaded with everything you had, prolonged with an unexpected encore and eventually ended up metamorphosing into a free-styling concert. At that very moment, you realised that your euphoric self was for the first time in so long, in seventh heaven.

💌 MASTERLIST

#txt #tomorrow x together #choi soobin #choi beomgyu #choi yeonjun #huening kai #kang taehyun #band!au #txt imagines #tomorrow x together imagines #txt scenarios #txt blurbs #txt reactions #zakwrites🌥

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