#but there were really only a handful of those assholes and HUNDREDS of us

[biblicalhorror]

Denver pro-Palestine protestors delayed Pride yesterday and ended up taking over the main stage, and in response, the organizers said they're "collecting community input and evaluating our sponsorships and affiliations," which is huge!!! Criticism of corporate sponsorships at pride is hardly anything new, and yet I've NEVER seen the organizers make a statement like that before. Almost all of the news coverage about the parade mentions the protest!!

I'm just so proud of my community and so hopeful for the future. <3

[tetzoro]

☽◯☾ - ALL TOO EAGER

꒰ synopsis ꒱ : Eren accidentally stumbled upon his newest side gig, pleasuring himself before thousands of viewers. But honestly, it’s all for his favorite creator — you.

꒰ content ꒱ : MDNI. eren jaeger x reader ; virginity loss (eren), unprotected sex, use of nicknames (baby, pretty girl) — WC : 2k

⭑ 𓂃 ꒰ New Moon ! ꒱ ― kinktober masterlist

camboy!eren who started doing solo videos because he was bored. somewhat of a social reject even long after graduating high school, he spent a lot of his nights furiously pumping his cock to whatever videos he’d find online.

camboy!eren who saw other guys do solo videos and make a lot of money, so he thought, why not? after a few clicks, he had an account and was ready to go.

camboy!eren who grew quickly in popularity due to the breathy groans he’d let out that ultimately led to soft whimpers when he was cumming all over his finely tuned abs. not to mention he had a pretty dick.

camboy!eren who finds your page one day and it quickly becomes his favorite. whenever he’s fucking his flesh light, he has your video on in the background just wishing you were really here with him. he has to refrain from moaning your name, trying to keep his words to a minimum as rides his high with your sweet mewls echoing in his head.

camboy!eren who discovers that you make videos with other guys and realizes his daydreams don’t seem so far fetched. that is, until he realizes you only do it with one guy — your boyfriend. he becomes obsessed with these videos regardless, pretending that he was really the one who was fucking you instead of the asshole with the small dick.

camboy!eren who leaves filthy comments under your videos, bragging that he’d fuck you better than your boyfriend (regardless that he’s never actually had sex). overtime, they just grew more relentless and he even went as far as sending you links of his own little videos.

camboy!eren who’s heart falls to his ass when he sees you finally reply to him, sending him a message that practically begs him to test out that theory of his, explaining that you and your boyfriend were no more.

and of course he was all too eager to accept.

the messages between you two only grew in velocity as time went on. as it turns out, planning up a meet up was extremely difficult. he learned you didn’t live so far away but with the way both of your schedules were set up, it would take some time before you had a weekend to meet up. 

so the texts turned raunchier, unable to hold back any longer. eren knew you were getting over your ex but he couldn’t stop his fingers from flying across the screen, ensuring you that he would please you like no one else. afterall, he’s watched your videos for so long, he knows what spots you would always target, what kinds of things would have you coming undone with a sweet cry. it was all achingly committed to his memory.

the fact that you were more than receptive to his bold claims, borderline just as obsessed as he was, turned him on to the point where just his hand and one of your old videos on didn't cut it anymore. both of you still did your shows, but almost every night you’d switch to facetime and get off to each other properly.

the soft whimpers and moans you let out as he watched you finger your cunt, begging for him to come over and help you out had his body growing taut with desire. only a few more days and he’d finally have you all to himself and he was more than ready to prove how good he could be for you.

but in all honesty, if eren had known that those few (hundred) comments he had left on your page would bring him to this moment, he would’ve started flooding your chat a long, long time ago.

the plan was simple: get together, have a practice round, then give your viewers a real show.

never in his life had he been so mesmerized, so in awe of the person before him. or rather, under him. the inescapable truth that he’s never done this before has flown straight below the radar – for now.

the reddened tip of his cock nudges along your clit, pressing into it and watching your body jolt in retaliation. every reaction he pulled from you had him wanting more, craving it more than he craved his own release. to please you has been his main goal but he didn’t realize that in doing so, he was already teetering on the edge of losing control.

“ready for me, pretty girl?” eren asked, trying to keep his voice level but the slight shake in his tone betrayed him. the fact he was going to lose his virginity to the one who took up each and every one of his fantasies seemed surreal.

it was more than he could’ve imagined whenever he’d fist his cock in the dead of night, wishing and manifesting for a moment like this. all too beautifully you were sprawled out under him, preening to his touch.

“please, eren.” as soon as the plea left your plush lips, he had no choice but to start pressing into you. inch by inch, he sunk himself in, his fingers tightly gripping onto your hips. 

every coherent thought he’d ever had disappeared into a haze of pleasure as soon as he bottomed out. slack-jawed and frozen, basking in the warmth of your cunt enveloping him way better than a fleshlight could ever. there was no way he could ever return to it, not with you pulsing around him, silently begging and pleading to milk him right then and there. a part of him almost gave into his urges, letting himself spill into you without another thought but he knew he had to get you there first.

eren slowly came back to his senses, looking down at you and almost instantly regretting it. there’s no way you could be faking any of it, not with how close he is. you, with your watery eyes, pupils dilated as they were lost and swimming in pleasure. it was clear every part of you wanted this as much as him.

plap, plap, plap.

the sounds of him thrusting into you started to fill the otherwise muted room. his hips had a mind of their own, driven by a primal instinct as he took in your beauty. after seeing your expression morph into something more blissful than the heavens, he couldn’t hold himself back from pounding into you. everything felt too good – so tight, so warm. 

“fuck-” his voice betrayed him, cracking under the weight of his bliss. he bares his teeth, doing what he can to block anymore traitorous sounds that escape him and reveal how much he’s at your mercy. but it’s all for nothing as the next words slip out of his mouth, nothing more than a hiss. “you feel so fucking good.”

there was no way he could stop as he thrusted into you, your slick completely coating his cock, allowing him to sink into you faster, deeper. the way you writhe and whine beneath him, nails digging into his shoulders before dragging along his back forced a whimper to slip past his lips. 

his ears felt all too hot, the tips undoubtedly burning up because of the utter vulnerability of it all. thank god his hair was long enough to cover them, the haphazard half bun he had tossed it up in earlier was cascading down, almost annoyingly obscuring the beautiful view before him.

“talk to me, baby.” he grunted, wanting to hear the praise fall from your lips. “tell me how it feels.”

“feels s’good, eren —” the air in your lungs gives away as you gasp out, your hands digging into the duvet as leverage to ground yourself with. eren can’t hold back a grunt as you arch your back so your chest is flush against his, nipples brushing together with each thrust.“touch me more, please!”

without a wasted breath, eren’s hands mindlessly slide along your body, fingers trailing along every curve and dip as he begins to map it, desperately wishing to commit it to his memory. everything about you was so soft, so addicting that he didn’t want to let go. 

“so good to me, such sweet manners f’me.” he coos, the slight condensation dripping from his tone. the fire that was pooling in his abdomen ignites more as he takes in your expression – half lidded eyes that were only focused on him, your heaving chest that only enticed him more. one hand pushes your hips back down into the mattress as his other one cups your chest, thumb brushing over your pert bud. “just makes me want to give you more.”

“please–!” your legs locked around his waist, lulling him in deeper, causing his hips to stutter at the new angle.

“y-yeah? you want more?” all of the muscles in his body tensed up, an impending doom settling in as his release threatened to spill prematurely. halting his motions, he presses his forehead against yours, trying to steady himself and push away the high he could practically taste. after counting down, the urgent need to come simmered away right before your hips started to move against his own. “fuck, o-okay. i’ll give you whatever you want, baby.”

eren can’t help it but need something to steady himself and with the way his body was trembling in overflowing pleasure, he opted out from grabbing onto you — it was much to risky. instead, he reached over, grappling the bed frame as he delivered each thrust with a needy precision, setting a new pace that had you both crying out in a sinful harmony. each time he sunk back into you, cock all snug within your walls, he could feel you clench around him with the sweetest whine of his name parting from your lips.

another groan bubbled up from his throat but by the time it escaped his mouth, it was a full blown whine. from someone who was known for his guttural grunts, the whine was unexpected.

there’s no way to tell where his body ends and yours begins, all he knows is that one of you is trembling, shaking and he has a sneaky suspicion it's him – not that he’d ever admit it though.

his world was brought back down to your center of gravity as soon as you tugged on his long locks, melding your lips against his in a kiss that threatened to take away all of his remaining sanity. there was no more room for air as his lungs filled with the sweet hums you couldn’t contain. 

you pull away from the kiss for a moment, a sheen of passion covering them in a way that looks like gloss – undeniably enticing him for more. his lips involuntarily chase after yours, not letting you get a moment of reprieve from his intensity. how could he? 

he didn’t want to stop as he carved his way into you, trying to erase all semblance of the other men that you had been with — especially the nasty ex he decided he hated. to have fumbled someone like you must’ve meant he was an absolute dumbass. his loss was eren’s gain and he would make sure that you knew that by the end of the night.

“‘m close, ‘ren.” the sweetness of your voice coiled deep within him, on the verge of snapping. 

“me too.” he grunts, gritting his teeth as he tries to stave his release. despite desperately rutting into you, he could barely pull out. your legs lock him in, your thighs trembling all around him as you come undone with a cry of his name. there was no way he could hold back anymore, shoving himself as deep as he could as he shook and whined with his orgasm. “‘m cumming – fuck, ‘m cumming. all for you, take it, baby, please–”

after the last rope of cum spilled into your pulsing cunt, eren let out a shudder, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. the room fell quiet yet again, save for the sounds of your shared breath, your lungs fighting for air. eren falls to your side, careful not to crush you as his arms encircle your waist and pull you closer to him.

“shit-” eren gasped, his pulse still racing. 

“and that was just the warm up.” you laugh softly, hand trailing down his abs. “you ready to turn the camera on now?”

[thedilfdiaries]

Vicious

Dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Masterlist ★ Wordcount: 1.8k

📽 —★ Summary: In the quiet solitude of your own home, you revel in the rare freedom of an empty house, indulging in forbidden pleasures on a hot summer day. The unexpected arrival of your dads buddy Joel turns your casual rebellion into something far more thrilling.

📽 —★ Warnings: 18+, mdni, reader is in college but is called a "school girl", wears a uniform that has a skirt. Joel and reader are both kinda assholes to each other. Mentions of smoking cigarettes and drinking beer, age gap (reader is early 20's, Joel is whatever you would like but in my mind 40's or older) p in v, uses of slut and whore, in this world and my daydreams Joel is able to get off multiple times without a break (I am not going for supreme accuracy I am going for porn), if I missed anything please let me know

📽 —★ Notes: Hello, welcome to my comeback fic. Please note that I am very rusty since posting my last fic in July 🫠 but I am very excited to be back writing, reading and posting once again! I hope you enjoy. I've missed being here with all you lovely humans so much 🥹

📽 —★ A big thank you to my wonderful friends for reading/hyping me: @milla-frenchy @evolnoomym @thundermartini and @syd-djarin who also helped me with the mood board 💋 love you all so much. And of course @saradika-graphics for the lovely divider

“I’m home!” you shout the second you walk in the door. Dead silent, no response. You shrug as you make your way to your room but pause halfway up the stairs. No one. That means you can do whatever the hell you want. You walk back down, throwing your backpack to the floor an head to the kitchen, grabbing one of your dad's beers from the fridge, taking it out to the deck. You retrieve your hidden cigarette pack taped beneath the table outside. You grab a cigarette and light it up as you lean back in the chair, opening your legs until your feet rest on either side of the lawnchair. After a stressful day at school, you need some kind of relief. Plus, your schoolgirl uniform is much too uncomfortable on a hot summer day, causing you to undo the top few buttons of your white blouse, allowing the small but cool breeze to graze your exposed skin.

“I always thought you were a bit of a slut.”

You look up to see your dad’s buddy Joel leaning in the doorway, a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth as well. Instead of jumping up, snapping your legs shut, or covering your chest, you give him the finger. That guy can go fuck himself.

“And so polite too.”

“Joel, the last thing I need right now is you and your opinion. School sucked, and I don’t give a shit what you think of me.”

“Christ, kid, I was only fucking with you. I mean, you do look trashy as hell, but that’s okay. I like trashy.”

“Are you hitting on me now? Really? You’re like seventy.”

“Try again sweetheart,” he says, stepping out onto the deck. You try to ignore him as he walks closer until he stops directly in front of you.

“You like the view, asshole?”

“I don’t know,” he says, leaning down and tilting his head. “I wouldn’t have guessed white. I mean, you don’t seem like the innocent type. More like a black satin sort of girl.”

“Oh, don’t you know?” you reply, taking a drag from your cigarette. “We have to wear white panties too. They check us every morning. We line up in a row, and they make us lift our skirts so they can see what we have on under them.”

“I’ll have to see if they have any openings. Sounds like a good job.”

“Oh fuck you. Besides, you wouldn’t know what to do with one of us, let alone three hundred.”

The bastard sinks down until he’s squatting in front of your now wet panties, still smoking as he admires the view. You finally reach down, open your legs wider, and give him the finger with your hand right in front of your cunt. If he wants to look, he can fucking look at that.

“If you didn’t want me, you’d be in the house already instead of sitting there with those pretty legs open.”

“Is that what you think?” you ask, trembling in spite of yourself. He’s a huge dick, but he’s also right. You do like teasing him, and the thought of him going home and jerking off over you is fun.

“I know it,” he says, sitting down at the bottom of the chair.

“And what would you do with a girl like me? I’ve probably had more sex than you’ll ever have. Better sex too.”

“What, with some stupid school boy who fucks like a jackhammer, hoping he’s found the right hole?”

You look at him, rolling your eyes and shaking your head before butting your cigarette.

“Why don’tcha unbutton that shirt some more? Let me see how you’ve filled out.”

“Jesus Christ. What do you think my dad would say if he saw you eyeing his daughter up and down like a piece of meat?”

“What do you think he’d do if he saw you sitting here spread eagle, smoking a cigarette and drinking his beer? His sweet little angel, showin’ off for his friend?" he responds playfully, raising his eyebrows.

You sit up in the chair, never breaking his gaze as you undo the next two buttons of your blouse, revealing your naked chest.

“You’re not going to do a thing,” you say, reaching down and opening your shirt just enough for him to get a glimpse. “You’re going to sit there and drool over my body.”

“Is that whatcha think?” he chuckles. “What's actually going to happen is that I'm going to bend you over and fuck you until you cry.”

“You’d probably come the second you got a glimpse of my pussy. I bet you’re so hard right now you can barely think."

“Try me,” he says, moving up between your legs. His hand now under your skirt.

“Let go and I’ll show you,” you say, your voice nearly catching in your throat. He moves his hand in an instant. You reach down, gently touching the lips around your clit through the thin white fabric. Joel watches the entire time, never taking his eyes off of your hand. “Is this what you want?” you say, pulling the white cotton to one side, exposing your pussy to his greedy eyes.

“It’s a start,” he replies as he moves closer. He lifts your legs up over his knees. You are silent as he unzips his pants, and as much as you try not to watch, you can’t help yourself. He reaches in, and in one fluid motion, his cock juts out of his boxers.

“Jesus,” you say as he begins to stroke himself slowly. He’s only partially hard, but his cock is big and thick, and you are on dangerous ground.

“Just like those high school boys?” he asks, reaching out, grabbing you around the waist. Before you can protest, he pulls you up onto his lap, his hard cock stuck between your pussy and his stomach. His other hand joins the first until his fingers dig into the cheeks of your ass. His face is inches from you.

“You don’t have the nerve,” you say, not willing to look away.

Joel wastes no time as he tears your blouse open, the last remaining buttons flying off as he pulls it down over your shoulders, your bare breasts now fully visible. He tugs it down even further until it slides off your arms, leaving you topless.

“I’m going to fuck you, baby. I’m going to push those panties to one side, shove my big cock in you, and then listen to you scream.”

“I’ll tell my dad,” you whisper.

“No you won’t,” he says, sliding his hand all the way beneath you. As he holds you tight, he slips his fingers beneath your panties and then inside your now soaking wet pussy, working them in and out for a few seconds before bringing his hand up to your mouth and pushing his fingers between your lips. You gladly lick your excitement off his thick digits, feeling his large cock grow against you.

“You’re going to come in seconds," you whisper. “If you even make it inside me. You have no idea how sweet my little cunt is."

“Guess we’ll have to find out. But first, let’s see if you’re right, or if you’re just a filthy little slut who needs another dick.”

Before you can think of a response, he lifts you up, pushing your panties to one side, and then guides his large cock into you. In one swift motion, he’s deep inside of you, and you are on his lap. You try to suppress a moan as he pulls you closer.

“You knew this was going to happen the second you saw me. And so did I,” he adds.

He begins to move slowly, feeling him slide in and out of you each time you tighten your grip. Fuck, he feels good; his cock hitting your walls in all the right places. It’s not fair.

“And you’re a whore,” he says, moving his mouth down your chin, making his way down your neck.

“You’re an asshole,” you mutter, causing him to thrust harder.

“Which is why you’re letting me fuck you.” His hands run through your hair, gripping it in his hand as he continues to fuck you. You moan louder, trying to hold back a scream as his fingers grip tighter and tighter around your hair. You can feel his balls throbbing against you as his breath quickens. You are on fire as his cock pumps into your wet, hot, sensitive pussy, causing both of you to groan loudly. You can tell he’s close to his own release; you can feel your pussy convulsing, and you start moving on him harder. He grabs your hips, holding you still as he pounds himself into you. His balls clench tight as he groans loudly in ecstasy, his breath harsh with lust. His climax soon follows after, rope after rope of hot liquid exploding inside of you. He stays buried inside of you as the orgasm takes over him completely. After a few moments of catching his breath, Joel looks at you and mutters between breaths, "Just because I came doesn’t mean I’m done with you.”

And then he pulls out of you, flipping you over, pushing you down onto the deck chair and your panties to the side so you can feel him against you, his cock still dripping. But then, somehow, he’s back inside of you, fucking you into the fabric of the chair. “You might be cute, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop.”

“Oh fuck,” you gasp, feeling his weight against you, pinning you down. When he reaches an arm around your neck, you begin to moan. Oh god, don’t stop Joel. Don’t stop fucking me; I’m gonna come.”

“That’s right, baby. Come for me. Come like the little slut you are.”

“Fuck!” you cry out, feeling yourself let go completely. You shake and tremble as you clench around him. His breath picks up as he’s close to his own orgasm.

“I’m going to come in this pussy one more time.”

“No!” you beg, needing to at least pretend to resist when in fact you don't want this to ever end. The thought of him coming in you again makes your pussy tighten in anticipation. Then finally, when it seems he won't ever come inside of you, he does. Your entire body begins trembling, fighting against another orgasm. As you feel him pull out of you, he turns you over, putting his hand in your panties and cupping your cheek. Your eyes open wide, and you can feel the warm liquid dripping from your thighs. He looks down at his own cock. It too has started to twitch.

“Look at the mess you made," he whispers, placing the tip of his cock into the wetness. "You'd better clean this up before someone sees. You're going to lick every drop,” he commands. You nod. "Good girl."

As you place kisses along his cock, licking away any remaining semen, Joel watches in amusement. You stand up, looking up at him.

“Are you satisfied?" you ask.

“For now," he smirks, turning towards the house. "See ya tomorrow." With that, he goes up the porch steps, his back to you and makes his way home, only to be back tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after.

[rhaeheartzsquirrelz]

Hiii,

By any chance can you write academic rivals for either Ellie or Abby?? It doesn’t have to have smut but I just need some angst and tension >:)

YES OFC I CAN?! chat idk how to write Abby to the point where it’s accurate so I’ll stick to Ellie (for now). And uhh this is my first time writing this trope cus ive lowkey never really liked it 😕 BUT I HOPE YOU DO!! Also, I hope its not too long 4 u 😇

Paper Thin Hatred

Ellie Williams x FEMALE Reader || Academic Rivals (fluff)

You’re going in blind, no summary needed.

Warning(s): Sexual tension; making out, mentions of drugs and violence (though it’s not described). Use of y/n like once. (blehh).

A/N: I tried my best gn. If you see any mistakes, no you didnt. I’m not the best at writing angst, i hate sad stuff, so Idk if I did a good job lol.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You hated her.

Hated how effortlessly smart she was, able to ace every test without the need to lay even a finger on her notes. How she could easily attract everyone and anyone with a single look. How every teacher in your school had this.. bias on her. She was the exception, the favourite. It was unfair and stupid.

No matter how hard you tried, how hard you worked, it was never enough to pass her. There was nothing you could do. Study? Already tried it, ended up two points off from her perfect hundred percentage. Tutoring? Done, but it was never efficient and only wasted the little time you had after school. You had tried everything. But you still came no where near where she was.

Ever since the first grade, you’d been competing with her, butting heads on every test, every assignment, and even every small quizz. From announcing your test scores to the class after realizing you’d topped her to keeping them a secret after finding out you scored lower than her, you’d grown to despise her.

This girl, who you despised, was Ellie Williams, the top student at your school. She was, also, a dickhead to everyone else but her teachers and, surprisingly, you. She’d never think to uttered an insult in your direction, let alone bring your name up in her shit talking sessions. Even so, she was still a stuck-up brat. Thinking she was better than everyone else, demanding respect and attention.

But, even with all these reasons you hate her for, you couldn’t help but admire her carefree spirit. Holding a blunt in the bathroom and smoking it through with her group of friends. Who all, by the way, were assholes. Bullies, to be frank. You didn’t understand why Ellie hung out with a bunch of losers when she could easily make friends with someone like her, someone as smart and collected. She didn’t care. And, sometimes, you wished you didn’t either. The two of you were opposites. You wanted to forget about the grudge you’d been holding against her but you just.. couldn’t. Not when you your competitive nature shook it’s ugly head everytime you were near the auburn girl.

You cared too much, you couldn’t just flip a switch and change that?

It was none of your business, is what you’d tell yourself everytime you found your thoughts wandering off to her. And, either way, having her hang out with those kinds of people meant she would be sure to slack off. Peer pressure was a real deal, and you silently wished it’d throw Ellie down from the title of being the school’s number one student.

You were practically praying for it.

⊹₊⟡⋆

With a push on the doors, you enter the library. Backpack over your shoulders, hands stuffed in the pockets of your jacket, you look for a good place to sit. Choosing an empty corner, you got to work; Pages flipping, pen writing, and keys typing, you were almost finished with an essay of yours.

That was, until Williams showed up. A strong push on the doors you’d just came from, she confidently walked in with her hands in her pockets. She looked around to find herself, and the crowd of fans behind her, a seat. Fans, as in her loser friends. They only hung out with her because she was relevant. And she only hung out with them for free cigarettes, weed, and whatever the hell she had going on. She wore a dark blue hoodie with her usual grey sweatpants. As confident as she was, she looked fucking homeless; even though you found yourself raked over her figure.

She was lean, well built, and, clearly, visited the gym frequently. You’d never seen her flex though, only on her social media did she show off those biceps of her. Not that you cared.

When Ellie’s green eyes spotted you, she let out a devilish grin before walking over to you. Her friend group followed behind like a bunch of dogs.

“Hey, sweet thing.” Leaning a hand on your table she played with one of your pens. Without hesitation, you snatched it from her hand and gave her the dirtiest look on the face of earth. “What do you want? You know the library isn’t for fucking around, right?” With your voice as hostile as ever, all you wanted was for Ellie to fuck off. More so her friends. “I’m whispering.” She was, matter of fact she was being pretty respectful. Quiet and polite, yet so bold and confident. It pissed you off. Everything the bitch did had your blood boiling. “Anyways, what are you up to? Saw you all by yourself, need some company?” She was mocking you, evident in the way she looked down at you. As if to keep you in your place. You wanted to shove a fist in her smug little face. “I’m good.”

No way Ellie would listen to you. So, with a motion to her friends she pulled a chair beside you and sat down. Her sorry-ass friend-group walked away with a bitter chuckle. How unlucky could you get? Legs spread with her arms inbetween them she gave you a smile. Her eyes roamed over your form and then the table infront of you. Everything was neatly organized, perfectly arranged. “Need help with that essay? Or ya’ just gonna be stubborn?” You chose being stubborn. “I don’t need your help, nor do I need you to be near me.” Turning your attention back to the computer, you hoped she’d just get bored and leave. But it seemed like your annoyance only fueled her amusement, because she couldn’t keep herself from leaning closer and resting her chin on your shoulder. “Stay still.”

Like hell you would. Recoiling, you sigh in frustration. “Why the—“ An arm interrupted and pulled you back into position and she, again, rested her chin on your shoulder. Ellie was fucking strong. And, you’d only just now realized the physical power she had over you. She not only had the smarts, but she had the body. God damn it, she was better than you at everything. “Let me help.” Who the hell did she think she was? Helping you? Just because she aced every test? That didn’t mean shit. She had no right to tell you what to do, make you do what she wanted you to. Clenching your jaw, you faught the urge to push her off you and instead opted for a less obnoxious way to escape; to leave.

“I don’t need your help, like I said before I’m good.” Shrugging her off of you, you stuff everything back into your backpack with organization being the last thing on your mind. “I was trying to be nice, why the hell are you so damn stuck-up?” Scoffing and leaning back against her chair, the auburn haired girl crossed her arms and looked you up and down. The quiet action had your nerves on edge, causing a fire of insecurity to spread through your body.

She’s judging you, probably thinks you’re stupid. Maybe even thinks you’re overreacting. Is it your body she’s quietly examining or your mind? Is she noticing the curves or the faults of your figure? Either way, you needed to get the fuck out of there.

Without a word, you pull your backpack over a shoulder and bolt towards the door. The door that looked heavenly as you pushed it open. The outside air felt so much better, so much more comfortable. Your body wasn’t tense anymore, nor was your breathing shaky and stiff. The cool breeze entered your nose and you took your time to relax. Just when you were beginning to cool down, you hear this agitating voice from behind.

“Will you listen?!” You felt a tug at your wrist in which you were turned you around to face Ellie. Who was now infront of you with furrowed brows, a narrowing gaze, and that.. look on her face. The subtle expression she had was too difficult to decipher, so you gave up on even bothering to put energy into her. Especially right now. She was staring down at you, probably trying to coax out a response. “I wasn’t trying to piss you off, alright? I just..” Your heart felt like it could practically jump out your chest the more she stood there. So close yet so far. “I didn’t think you’d get mad. I.. I’m sorry for being all up in your space.” Maybe her apology was your last straw because the next thing that came out your mouth left her feeling rejected— as you’d describe it.

“You think walking around with straight A’s makes you all that?” Your furrowed brows meet her, now, raised ones, she looks confused. “I don’t give a damn about how you feel, never have never will. You’re some stuck-up wannabe and I’d rather stay the hell away from you. Got that, Williams?” You were speaking your truth, telling her what you’d been wanting to since the day you first met her. “I don’t need anything from you. I’m fine by myself.” The hostility in your words made Ellie take a step back, her expression showing just how surprised she was. The tension was thick in the cool autumn air. The breeze blew past you and you had to force yourself to meet her eyes— Her eyes that has this look of disappointment within them. Why? You wanted to ask. But, then again, you didn’t really care.

“Yeah. Alright.” Was her response, her voice quiet and low as she looked down and fidgeted with her two hands. Intertwining her fingers, picking on her nails, and even squeezing her thumb. Her jaw clenched and she averted you completely. “I’m sorry..”

You’d just bruised her ego.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

The week before spring break, you were in class worrying your pretty ass off about all the busy work your teachers had given you. You’re talkin’ stacks of assignments and essays. Videos to watch, quizzes to answer, and books to read. With a sigh of exhaustion, you wait impatiently for class to begin. It was a typical monday, everyone was sleep deprived and already knocked out with their heads on their desks. It was a depressing sight.

But, one thing that was nagging at you all weekend was Ellie. Ironic or not, you had a heavy heart ever since you walked away from her that friday afternoon. The way she looked down, her brows furrowed with embarrassment, and her hands fidgeting with one another. The moment replayed in your head every night, causing you to loose focus on sleep and studying. Since when had you been so soft?

You hated her. So why would you feel bad? Especially after she practically mocked you because, apparently, she knows it all.

You shake the freckled girl out of your mind and focus on the lecture as class began. Weirdly enough, Ellie wasn’t present. She never missed a day of school. Was she skipping? Probably out smoking with her friends, or even snorting god knows what up her nose. You couldn’t care less, especially when you now had the advantage of attending the lecture. You were learning a new unit and were now ahead of Ellie. It was perfect. Too perfect. —

Class had ended and you were packing yourself up before your professor approached your desk. Papers in his hand, she placed them down infront of you. You looked down to find the notes from today printed onto them, they were neatly organized and well prepared. Your professor had reallyyy had made sure to make it look good.

This was an example of how being favoured benefited the stuck-up, freckled girl you called Ellie.

“Hey, y/n, would you mind handing today’s notes to Ellie?” The tall, blond, middle aged man gave you a smile. “I know you two share dorms in the same building.”

Why was that your problem? It was her job to make sure she attended class, why the hell were you chosen to do such a task? But, you couldn’t say no to your professor, not when he clearly favorited Ellie.

“No, I don’t mind. But, uhm.. what room is she in?” Your luck was so sore that you wished you’d skipped class yourself.

“Dorm four-o-eight.” He patted the papers before stuffing his hands in the pocket of her pants and walking back to the front of class.

Sometimes, you swore the universe was working overtime to make you suffer. Punish you for whatever you’d done in your past life. You never understood why you and Ellie always, somehow, ended up in the same classes, same hallways— Hell, the two you saw each other everywhere. Malls? Restaurants? It was like you were being followed.

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

With a loud knock, you awkwardly wait infront of Ellie’s dorm room. It felt weird standing there, mostly because of the argument you had with her a few days back. What would you even say to her? Would she even open the door? Maybe she’d shut it in your face to get back at you. All you knew was that you a task; give her the notes from class and leave. It’s not anything would go wrong, right?

The door clicked unlocked and Ellie swung it open. You were greeted with her tired expression. She stood tall, a hand on the door knob with the other scratching the back of her head. She wore a tanktop and this was the first time you’d seen her muscles. Of course, without realizing it, your eyes were practically glued to them. They were toned and stood out like a sore thumb. For a second, you wondered what else she was hiding under that tank of hers. She looked.. pretty attractive and you’d be lying if you said she didn’t. No wonder almost every girl was fanning over the 5’6 nerdy auburn.

Snapping out of your trance you meet her gaze and notice the bruise on her left eye. It was purple with a hint red. And, it definitely looked like it hurt. Did she really get into a fight? You called it. Maybe with one of her friends. Or because of her friends. That’s probably why she wasn’t in class— Either way, all you needed to do was hand her the notes and leave.

Holding out the stack of papers, you met her green eyes before she grabbed it from your hands. Her fingers, seemingly intentionally, brushed against yours for a brief moment. She flashed a smug grin as she read over it and shook her head with amusement. “Notes, huh? You makin’ sure I’m caught up, princess?” How the hell was she so.. playful after that argument, especially after that fat black eye. Did she even care? My god, was she even bothered as much as you were?

“Mr. Nunez told me to give them to you. It was against my will.” You corrected, hands dropping to your side, you turn your head to find an appropriate way to leave. Ellie, somehow, caught onto that, “Hey, you wanna come inside? I uh.. I wanted to.. talk to you. I guess?” The freckled girl, shrugging with a sheepish expression, stepped asife and motioned for you come in. The invitation was friendly, but the sight of her fucked up room made you rethink your decision. Clothes everywhere, clouded air, probably from smoking, and.. were those her fucking boxers hanging from her bed frame?!

“Ignore the mess, I’ve been.. a bit busy.” Yeah, she looked busy with that fucked up eye of hers. You took a second to think. It wouldn’t hurt, right? Plus, you’d get to see her “secret” to being the top student. Was it the way she studied? Did she cheat?

“Fine. But I’m not staying for long.” Oh, you’d be leaving the second Ellie let slip something even close to condescending. You weren’t having it with her anymore, not when she acted like royalty.

Entering her dorm, you plop yourself down onto her bed. Staying away from her clothes, which you were sure smelled, your hands stayed in your lap. You looked around, as Ellie placed the notes down onto a nearby surface, raking over the candid photos on her wall, the trinkets on her desk, and the collection of gum wrappers stamped on her dresser. She had a life, a fun one at that. But, you spotted no sign of school work.

You hadn’t realized she was sat beside you, her hands fidgeting with the strings of her pajamas shorts as she looked down. “On.. friday.” Ellie began, clearing her throat before taking a second to collect her breath; which was shaky. “I genuinely wasn’t trying to make you mad. I’m not as.. stuck-up as you think I am, I really wanted to help. Considering I’ve never even.. uhm had a proper conversation with you? I thought I’d be nice and do something good.” She shrugged out her explanation, and it make sense. You were even considering it. She looked genuine enough, maybe she was telling the truth. But the hate in you only made you see the bad.

What was the “bad” in the current situation? You didn’t really know.

“I know you.. have this grudge against me. You hate me. And, I don’t really know why.” The hint of vulnerability in her tone had your walls came crumbling down. Maybe you were naive for it but you shake your head and furrow your brows. “Hate is a strong word..” And its exactly how you had described your feelings towards Ellie since the day you two had met. “Maybe I’m just.. jealous.” Why were you being honest? You didn’t really know. You seemed to know absolutely nothing when it came to the auburn haired girl. Everytime you opened your mouth your thoughts immediately began slipping from your mouth. “You get good grades without even trying. I mean, all you do is smoke and.. fuck around.”

All you got in response with a scoff and a soft, “is that what you think?” What else were you supposed to think? “Well, I guess I do smoke. But I study. Not as hard as you, of course, but I do my best and.. well, I guess it pays off.” Leaning back on her arms, she gave you a smile. “Your anger’s justified, I don’t blame you, Princess.” And right when you were about to give her a smile back, though it’d be an awkward one, you watch as her hand shifted to resting ontop of yours.

She was making a move on you.

Flinching at the touch, you pull your hand away with an averting gaze. Was this what she wanted this whole time?

“Sorry.” Ellie shifted to pull away from you, giving you space on the bed. Your heart was racing at the small touch, not to mention you were so damn close to her. Your thighs were a shift away from touching and you suddenly felt hot. The room held a loud silence, a piercing one at that. It was awkward, uncomfortable. Both of you waited for eachother to say something, to utter a word and lighten the mood.

“I’ve always found you.. interesting.” Ellie chose to step up, placing her hand on your thigh and swallowing her nervousness down. “You’re smart, y’know? Even though you’re extra sometimes, I’ve always.. wanted your attention on me.”

For a second, you took a second to process her words, process the hand on your thigh. Her? Ellie Williams? Interested in you?

“If I’m being honest, I don’t even care about school, nor do I give a damn about my grades. I just.. ever since I realized you noticed me whenever I get a better grade than you.. I guess that’s been my goal. I don’t care about the stupid assignments, the fuckass tests, all I seem to want is for you to just.. look at me.”

What. The. Actual. Fuck. What was the hell is going on? Is she confessing some sort of.. love for you? Did she like you? Why the hell would she like you?

You couldn’t keep your reaction in check. You held your breath in shock, unable to really.. think of something to say. You felt stuck, unable to move and unable to say anything that would make the situation better. It’s like everything you thought of only seemed to make the situation.. more awkward and complicated.

After a good second of just staring at her, you clear the lump from your dry throat and try not to focus on the hand resting on your thigh. She was getting real bold, and it made you nervous. “I uhm.. that’s.. Ellie, that’s a lot to.. process..”— “So don’t.” So don’t? What in the world was this bitch on? Molly? “I’m being completely honest. Kiss me. If you like it then.. then things won’t be as complicated anymore. You’ll know—“ “Kiss you? Are you.. high or something?” Green eyes widening, you assumed her confidence was bruised by the way she slumped down and flickered her eyes away. You didn’t need her being all upset, she had no reason to be. “I’m not high.. I’m being honest. Can you really not tell?”

No, you couldn’t!

“Ellie.. that’s an insane thing to.”— “Just once won’t kill you. It’s a kiss. One simpe press on the lips.” First of all, where did this even come from? The whole kissing thing? And.. why did she have that fat bruise on her eye? Sighing, you pinch the bridge of your nose. The hell were you supposed to do? Negotiation always worked? There was no way you could kiss her, you hated her. All your life you’ve only wanted one thing; to was crush her. But, knowing all she’d ever wanted was.. well, your attention.. it had you sort of baffled. How could that be possible, seriously?

“What happened to your eye?” You avoided the subject of kissing, knowing you’d probably give up and let her do whatever she wanted to. Now, you were expecting a simple answer. Straightforward and easy to understand. You were tired of thinking.

“I beat up a kid for.. uhm, well.. talking about you?” She shrugged out, averting your gaze with a sheepish smile playing on her lips. “It’s stupid, I know. But, it didn’t happen in school so I’m not like.. suspended or.. something.” She took a second to clear her throat, “and, I didn’t wanna come to class with this fat thing around my eye.”

It was beyond stupid. Completely insane! Maybe all that smoking really had fucked up that brain of hers. It was the fact that she’d done it for you that had you taken aback. She had no reason to defend you after you’d practically told her to fuck off. Not to mention the fact that she knew you hated her. It didn’t make sense. But, maybe that black eye was enough proof that she actually might care. Actually might like you. But, could you really be sure? What if she was lying and all of this was just some sick prank?

You tilt your head to get a better look at her eye as it seemed like it was beginning to swell. “Right.. and uh, what was that kid saying?” Your question wasn’t a hard one, not for anyone but Ellie. Ellie who seemed to be struggling to find her words. Her fidgeting fingers gave it all away, not to mention her averting gaze.

It was.. sort of cute.

“Just how you were—.. I don’t wanna think about it.” She was, clearly, still bothered by the incident. She cared more about what some kid said about you than what you’d said about her. But, why? You seriously couldn’t wrap your head around it.

“Are you mad?” The green eyed girl gave you a glance before going back to fiddling with her fingers. Her hair covering most of her face as she had it down. “No, I don’t think so?” As truthful as your words were, they had you, yourself, confused. Why weren’t you mad? Usually, you’d blow up on her if she even tried talking to you. Maybe her confession had made you all mushy.

“I don’t get it, Ellie. You beat up a kid for me?” She raised her head and turned to yoy, her expression was clear then. Slightly furrowed brows with parted lips, she was still upset over the whole situation. She really must be with that bruised eye. You decided to drop the questions for now and shifted on her bed. “Can I get my kiss now?” By the time you’d leaned back against your two arms, Ellie had turned to face you. She had this look of determination and it, honest to god, had you considered her question.

“You’re not getting a kiss..”— “Alright, give me a good reason why.” Stubborn as hell. She’d never quit, you knew that. If she’d gone years just getting your attention what else could she have up her sleeve. It was just a kiss.. right? “For one, I’ve known you since the first grade. It’d be weird. Second of all, you’re Ellie. It just doesn’t make sense.” Kissing her would only cause complications, you didn’t need that. And, it’s not like you wanted a girlfriend, you had studying to do. “Those are all the reasons why you should kiss me. I don’t want some.. french kiss, just give me a press on the lips.” A small press on the lips was too much to ask for.

“What do I get in return?” Was your final question, knowing the right answer would probably lead to you making an irrational decision and kissing the girl you hated most. “Your feelings figured out. You want that, right? I’ll show you how you feel about me, please.” This bitch really was crazy. Pleading for a small kiss? She could have anyone else on the campas kiss her at an instant, so why was she asking you?

But, then again, you didn’t want to feel confused anymore. One small press on her lips as you could finally tell her you didn’t feel anything for her, then she could leave you alone. Without the need for your attention, Ellie would be sure to slack off and let her grades drop.

With a deep inhale, you lean closer. Your heart, somehow, was racing in your chest, almost going to jump out. You didn’t understand why but, your palms were suddenly sweaty and it was growing hotter in the room. The sight of Ellie staring at your lips had your mind going fuzzy, your throat goong dry. Her warm, calloused hand came to rest on your cheek as she finally pressed her lips against yours. Your mind probably went numb for a second because it took you a good while to process it all. She didn’t pull away after a peck on the lips and continued tapping kisses on your lips. It had your hands shaking, face warm, and eyes fluttering shut. She was a good kisser, the way her lips tasted, the way her thumb ran over your cheek, even the way her breath tickled your heated skin. She was damn charming and you couldn’t help but kiss back.

Before you knew it, the auburn haired girl’s hand had came to rest under your shirt and on your waist. She felt around your skin as her tongue entered your mouth and began exploring. Your stomach was fluttering like crazy, you could feel it flip everytime Ellie let slip a noise you’d never even thought you’d be able to hear. Not to mention the sound of the kiss, it was embarrassingly clumsy. Maybe because both of you were a nervous wreck. All you could think about was being in the moment, not what would happen after the kiss, not what you could do to get score higher than Ellie. Everything else seemed to disappear around you, leaving only you and the girl you were kissing relevant.

With a slight smile, she pulled away and made her way to your jaw. Placing open mouthed kisses there and, occasionally, sucking on your sensitive skin. You bit back a moan but it only backfired when she fully wrapped her arms around your waist and pulled you against her chest. “I wanna hear it, Princess..” Oh, hear she did. Your lips couldn’t contain the lewd moans and whines that dared, and succeeded, to escape. They were, undoubtedly, music to Ellie’s ears. She was enjoying all of it. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this..” She whispered inbetween marking you up, her hands roaming over the bare skin of your back with a hint of desperation. As if she wanted to feel all of you, have you skin-to-skin with her. “Ellie..” Was all you could really moan out, which had her flecked cheeks red. Completely and utterly red.

And, in that moment, you’d realized just how wrong you’d gotten Ellie. She was never competing against you, all she wanted was you. Sure, you still hated how effortlessly smart she was, but, to be frank, you were willing to let your walls crumble down. Her silent confidence made you completely and utterly weak, your hate was as paper thin when it came to her. She was able to crumple it up before easily tearing it down. With a few words Ellie was able to get you to melt into her. Into the kiss.

Maybe, just maybe, you didn’t hate her as much anymore.

[em-harlsnow]

part 2 of Debbie having TikTok

Debbie spends the next few days editing the video so that their responses in the interview overlap. She wants to have their first questions, the ones with the questions about themselves, to be at the start of the video and for the questions when their talking about the other one to be at the end.

She also spends a long time adding subtitles, bleeping out Mickey's swearing and cutting out the parts where Mickey admits to crimes and Ian asks too many questions. She might do a blooper video later if it gets enough views.

Before she posts it, she brings Mickey and Ian back into the house and shows it to them. She wants both of them to be happy with it before it's out there for her millions of followers to see.

Just in case the reaction is as good as the interview was, Debbie sets up a small digital camera on one end of the table. Both Ian and Mickey frown at it.

"Thought we were done with this shit." Mickey grumbles, making Ian sit in the chair closer to the camera so that he's less visible.

"This is just to film your reaction. If it's good, I might make a video out of that too." Debbie explains.

"Okay." Ian agrees, leaning back on the chair to stretch. He has a beer loosely gripped in his hand.

"Sit up, asshole." Mickey mutters. "Cover me from the camera."

"Mmh, sure." Ian mumbles, moving further forwards in his chair. He has one arm around the back of Mickey's chair, and Debbie definitely thinks this would make a good video. Ian's been in the fewest of her videos (Carl's been in the most) so he's a bit of an enigma to her audience and literally everyone thinks he's hot. She's had hundreds of message requests asking for his number or a date, as if Ian would be interested in a random internet fan. Most of them are from women, too.

"Okay, now you'll get to see the results from the video. This is their first time seeing what each other said, by the way." Debbie tells the camera. "Who do you think knows who best?" Debbie asks Ian and Mickey.

Ian shrugs. "We've known each other since we were kids. I think it just depends on who has the better memory."

"I have a better memory." Mickey says. "You can't even remember to put your ring back on after you wash your hands."

"How many times!" Ian sighs, smacking his hands on the table. "How many times do we have to talk about this? I don't mean to! I'm still not used to it yet."

"I don't forget! We've been married for like eight fucking months."

"My hands aren't used to it! I only forget for like three seconds because you notice and get mad at me so fast."

"Excuse me if I think it's fucking rude for you to basically throw our wedding ring down the sink." Mickey frowns, crossing his arms and glaring.

"Throw it down the-! What the fuck? I leave it on the side, where it's safe, it's never even been close to falling down the drain." Ian shouts.

"We live with a five year old, Ian. We live with your fucking brother, who would easily knock it."

"Which brother?"

"Carl, obviously. He's messy as shit."

"You're messy as shit."

"I keep my ring on."

"I keep mine on!"

"Doesn't seem like it."

Debbie sighs, only letting them continue because she knows it's good content. "Okay, shut up now." She says. They're starting to forget she's even here and filming.

Mickey's rolling his eyes and pouting about it, but it doesn't seem to genuinely cause any problems between the two. Ian's arm stays secured on Mickey's chair, occasionally touching his fingers to Mickey's shoulder.

"Alright, here's the video." She says, holding up the phone to them. Whenever they have some commentary, she's planning on pausing it to make the reaction more entertaining.

It begins with a shot of Ian explaining his own likes and dislikes and all of his answers.

"Ha! I got all of those." Mickey says, grinning. "Wait, you really think our first date was at fucking Chick-fil-A? I was so fucking tired that night I could barely keep my eyes open."

"You'd just gotten out of prison, you were bound to be tired." Ian answers. "Why? Where did you think it was?"

"I said-"

"Ah-ah!" Debbie cuts him off. "Wait until it says in the video."

"Is your favourite movie really Double Impact? That's a fucking crap movie." Mickey adds.

"You know why I said that." Ian replies.

"Stupid reason. I thought Van Damme was shitty then and I think he's shitty now."

"And I still think you're fucking wrong."

Mickey grumbles, and Debbie plays the video again. Mickey's answers start coming through, and Ian watches intently.

"I got these right too." He says. "I'm pretty sure I said all that."

"Really? Even the one about my comfort food or whatever?" Mickey asks.

"Yeah, for that one I said-"

"Wait for it to be in the video! Jesus, it's like one minute long. You can wait." Debbie snaps, shaking her head at them.

She plays it again. During the editing process, she thought it would be better to leave all the questions she asked about when they fell in love until the very end. Some sort of romantic idea to that.

"You think our first date was drinking beer at the dugouts?" Ian marvels.

"Yeah, better than goddamn Chick-fil-A."

"But we didn't even eat anything."

"Why are you so stuck on this whole eating dinner together with actual food? That doesn't mean it's a date, I'm pretty sure a date can be anything." Mickey argues.

"I mean... it has to have some kind of activity. Like... bowling is a date. Going clubbing, eating dinner. Those are all dates. Sitting in a field, drinking, smoking and fucking is not a date."

"That's not true. Dates don't have rules like that."

"If they were dates, then why did they revolve around fucking?"

"That just makes us better than everyone else. Everyone does those dates that lead up to sex, we did dates and sex." Mickey points out.

Ian sighs. "Well, we didn't even kiss. I'm pretty sure dates have to involve kissing, at least."

Mickey narrows his eyes. "Fuck you, fine. Then our first date was at my place, when you stayed over. We ate food, watched a movie - there's your activity - and we fucked and did your kissing bullshit." He grumbles in annoyance.

Watching, Debbie sees Ian's face soften, a small smile forming on his features.

"Yeah, okay." Ian says gently, dropping his arm from the back of Mickey's chair to rest completely on his shoulders. "That was our first date."

Feeling like a third wheel, Debbie swallows and casts her eyes away. She plays the video.

It's both of them saying their favourite things about each other, and Ian's comments about Mickey's legs and ass makes Mickey smirk.

"Can't believe you said my hair and not my cock." Ian says, indifferent to the insults Mickey threw about him being ugly. Ian knows that Mickey doesn't think he's ugly.

"Didn't think it was that kind of video." Mickey laughs.

It plays some more, and then Ian's answers to questions about Mickey start. Ian seems proud of himself when he's right about so many of them. Mickey's equally pleased when he's also right.

"You think I'm kind." Ian smiles, nudging Mickey's shoulder.

"Yeah, and you think I'm fucking sweet. You dick, no I'm not." Mickey scoffs. "I am fucking funny, though."

Debbie rolls her eyes and lets the video continue.

"So who won?" Ian asks when he thinks he's made it to the end of the video.

"What?" Debbie asks.

"Who knows who best." Mickey answers. "Who wins?"

"Well, it wasn't a competition." Debbie says, brows furrowing.

"What was the point of this shit then?" Mickey says.

"For fun! And because I'm paying you. Besides, it would be a draw. You both know each other so well it's scary." Debbie mutters.

Ian and Mickey both grin at that.

"We definitely won." Ian says.

"Obviously." Mickey agrees.

"There's more of the video. Just the last bit." Debbie tells them, pressing play.

It's Ian describing when he fell in love with Mickey. About how it happened so fast. About how he was right about who he loved. Debbie expected Mickey to have something to say about it. Hopefully, something sweet. But instead he's quiet. Staring at the screen with wide eyes.

It's funny, really, because they both thought the other fell in love when they first started living together at the Milkovich house. After Mickey came out. But neither of them fell in love then. Ian said it was in the first few months of them having sex, and Mickey said it was in the first couple years, but only since he didn't want to think about it.

"You loved me that long?" Ian asks, when Mickey's answer comes through. His voice is filled with wonderment.

Mickey flushes, shrugs, winces like he hates the question. "Yeah. It was obvious."

"It so wasn't." Ian laughs, outraged.

"Yes it was! I spent like all my fucking time with you." Mickey grumbles.

"Yeah! Insulting me!"

"Fuck off, you found me funny. You just said that." Mickey says, pointing to the video.

"Well, I didn't know you loved me then."

"As if you were so fucking clear about it." Mickey scoffs.

"I was!"

"How?"

"I- I asked Mandy about you, I talked about you all the time, I brought you Lip's weed."

"I sold Lip that weed. Anyway, you did all that shit behind my back. How was I supposed to know you were talking to Mandy about me?" Mickey asks, incredulous.

"I mean- I don't know. Maybe she would've mentioned it to you." Ian mutters.

"Oh, really? Why would she do that? Because I was so openly fucking gay and because she knew we were together?" Mickey asks, sarcasm in his voice.

"Oh, shut up."

"I'm just saying. You didn't make it as obvious as you think you did."

Ian harrumphs, sinking into his chair. He's still smiling to himself though, clearly pleased that Mickey's felt the same way about him for the same amount of time.

"I make it obvious now."

"Yeah? By leaving your ring at the sink?" Mickey challenges.

"No, because I tell you that I love you all the time. Huh? I love you." Ian says, poking Mickey in the shoulder to piss him off.

"Fuck off." Mickey scoffs, chuckling to himself. "I love you too, even though you're an idiot."

"Mhm. See, we're better than everyone else." Ian confirms, satisfied with himself.

"For sure."

"Okay, well." Debbie starts, ending the camera's recording. "Are you good with that being posted?" She asks.

"Yeah, sure." Ian agrees.

"Whatever, as long as we get paid."

"Yes, fuck, I'm paying you." Debbie groans, posting it as soon as she has the confirmation.

-> part one is here !!

-> I hope everyone enjoyed, I'm going to post the comments on the TikTok video next!

[star-suh]

Hardcore

Bang Chan x Male Reader

cw: idol au, dom top chan, pwp, facesitting, deepthroat, hair pulling, marking, spanking, slapping, choking, degradation, fisting, gaping hole, bit of dumbification, jackhammering, mating press, breeding, cum swallowing, hate sex, ripping clothes, cockwarming.

an: 😬 this man makes me go feral sometimes

—

yn was laying in the couch, his head hanging over one side of it. gurgling sounds could be heard in the living room, chan was there fucking the other's mouth “fuck at least that throat of yours can do wonders with my cock. you really know how to milk one hmm?” he slapped yn's cheeks and resumed his pace, forcing the other to deepthroat him. “maybe this is the only way to make you shut the fuck up for once”.

chan an yn were idols, each one from a different group, and they just began to hate each other for an unknown reason. every time they passed each other in the backstage of the music shows or year-end awards shows they looked at each other with anger plastered in their eyes, those glares were like hundreds of daggers stabbing at each other. until finally one day the tension exploded, their companies contacted them to do a collaboration (as a way to put an end to the rumors that the two hate each other's guts) and that's how we ended up here right now, chan banging the other's mouth, pulling his hair to thrust hard and deep.

with some final thrust chan came inside yn's throat clogging it with his thick cum, the other trying to swallow it but ended up spitting some of it “fucking asshole i almost choke–” not wanting to hear his annoying voice chan sat on top of yn, riding his face. chan gets up so that yn can breathe a little and sits on him again, repeating the action a few more times.

yn was stunned, there was so much happening that he doesn't realize when chan rips his shorts and underwear leaving his ass bare, “what the fuck you son of a bitch those were my favorite shorts”, “ask me how many fucks do i give” the other responded.

without warning chan impaled his thick fuckmeat on the tight hole, drawing a guttural moan out of him “you… asshole” tears rolled down his face while he punches chan in his chest “you're breaking me in.. hngh.. half.. you. bastard”..

chan positioned yn in a doggy style with the excuse of not wanting to see his face “this way i won't feel so disgusted” he mentioned. yn didn't pay attention to him since the only thing he focused on was how good chan's cock felt inside him. chan began to spank yn, enjoying the recoil caused by that and how it was slowly taking on a reddish color.

looking for a way to be able to thrust much rougher chan put his hands on the sides of yn's neck and began to choke him, also using it to push yn back so his cock goes deeper. yn's eyes were rolled back, spit coming out of his mouth, sex was clouding his mind and all he wanted now was to cum and get it over with quickly.

the room was now a mess, it reeked of sex and sweat, chan and yn have been fucking for hours. in the mating press position and he squeezed so hard that chan had no choice but to release his load inside the other. “why the fuck do you came inside.. it's disgusting coming from you” yn slapped chan but he didn't seem to like it, so he decided to do some payback, "fine, you son of a bitch, if that's what you want, then i'm going to get all my semen out of you. just don't complain later” suddenly, yn found himself in the jackhammering position. chan was being much rougher than he had been before, his cock never failing to hit that sweet spot. when he emptied his second load inside of yn chan said in a mocking voice “ow.. i'm so sorry yn i came inside you again”, “you did it on purpose you fu-aughng!!” yn cried feeling a sudden stretch, then he realizes chan was fisting him. his fist going in and out smeared with his semen "what do you think now yn? should i continue until there is not a single drop of cum inside?", yn could feel chan's fist making its way into his insides, how the knuckles scratched his prostate deliciously, he could feel every vein in chan's muscular arm "you're going to pay… for this.. augh.." he cried.

after finishing his fisting session, chan stopped to appreciate yn's destroyed hole, how agape it was and how it was clenching into nothing "it's cute how he tries to wink at me" chan joked, “i don't think you're going to be able to walk these days”.

chan folded yn and resume the fucking, but this time the thrusts were sloppier yn could feel that chan was already reaching his peak and that was when he took advantage and started scratching chan's back leaving long red and burning marks as part of his revenge, in addition to biting and twisting his nipples and punching his firm delicious pecs, "let's see how you'll cover those marks, imbecil” yn laughed with the last strength he had...

the next day yn woke up feeling sore down there and feeling a heavy weight on top of him, then chan wakes up too, realizing that they both fell asleep on top of each other with the top's cock still inside yn's ass "get off of me" yn pushes chan and when he tried to sit up he couldn't due to the pain he was feeling "hahaha deserved" chan laughs. suddenly he feels a slap on his back that hurt his wounds making him scream in pain "goddamn it… it hurts a lot”. “deserved" yn murmurs, struggling to stand up to go to the shower.

[mianexil]

POV: He heard/saw how someone was planning to harm you .... this trope for togame jo plssss

◇ POV: He heard/saw how someone was planning to harm you ◇

(pt. 2)

◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇

💫 [ Hey, my cute Jo Togame lovers, your man is finally here. I usually don't write headcannons with him because I'm not really into him yet. So let me know in the comment: Is it worth adding this turtle more often? In that case, I think I'll have to think about him a little more often. ( I also added Choji here) ]

💫 [ The reaction of the Windbreaker boys when they heard/saw that someone was going to harass you. Don't worry, cutie, you're under the protection of these boys ]

◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇

ㅡ Togame, Choji

Togame

The light of the beautiful festival lanterns reflected in your eyes as you walked along the food stalls.

The white yukata with the image of a red poppy rustled from your movements, and your heart was full of joy, because you will spend this fireworks festival with your boyfriend, who once again decided to work in the festival shop. Hearing the sound of your geta, Togame was distracted from hanging traditional masks on the shelves.

Your boyfriend slowly broke into a satisfied smile.

《 You look wonderful, pretty girl. This yukata suits you very well 》

After cooing for 15 minutes, you decided to go get dango.

Jo returned to his work when he suddenly heard 2 male voices behind him. However, the long-awaited visitors turned out to be not the most pleasant news this time.

《 Dude, girls in yukata are fucking hot. Did you see that chick in the white yukata with red flowers? She's definitely my type 》 - 《Well, go to her. She's not going anywhere in those shoes anyway 》

If only these assholes knew what a chilling look awaits them right behind their backs. The green eyes darkened, burning the guys with a look from under half-lowered eyelids.

Their guffaw was interrupted by a single movement. The poor guys' view was blocked by masks, and then heavy hands fell on their shoulders.

《 Shall we go talk? 》

The sauce on the sweet dangos glistened so appetiingly while you were carrying a box of them to Togame's shop. However, there was no one there. You started to turn around, looking for your boyfriend in the crowd, when you saw him walking towards you along the path in the warm light of the festival lanterns. Jo was smiling, relaxed, waving at you with his hand, which contained 2 new bottles of ramune.

《 Hey, baby, I bought us drinks 》

With a relaxed drawl, the man leaned over to you so that you could feed him sweet dangos from your hands.

That evening, you never found out that some 2 idiots slept through all the fireworks, lying in a log by some tree in the forest near festival street.

Choji

This active boy just couldn't help but invite you out on the weekend. You've already got used to the fact that one day off with him is one new adventure, because he can't stay at home, and he doesn't want to go without you.

《 Y/N, Y/N, let's go, let's go..》

And so, you found yourself in some crowded park after a long walk. Wanting to let your legs rest, you told Choji that you would go to the bench. In response, your boyfriend nodded with a big smile and said he would bring you sweets from an ice cream van nearby.

While you were catching your breath, Tomiyama was standing in line for a cold treat. It was noisy in the park, but the conversation of some jerk behind stood out from the rest of the background. The guy was talking on the phone, constantly laughing in some kind of nasty, raspy voice.

《 Yes, man, I noticed her a few minutes ago, and she's been sitting on the bench alone all this time. You should have seen her whore's flared skirt, she's one hundred percent looking for attention and I'll give it to her, hehe. It's been a long time since I've had a pretty girl 》

Choji followed the gaze of the guy who was staring right at the unsuspecting you.

How dare he utter such disgusting words in your direction!? Does he really want to die today? It seems Choji has just got a new rival.

A flame flared deep in Tomiyama's eyes, darkened with anger, and a joyful smile on his lips was replaced by an expression as if he wanted to kill here and now.

The nasty guy with the phone had to be distracted from the conversation because of the gaze of the head of the Shishitoren boring into him.

There was a tense silence. Choji stared in silence for a few seconds before speaking.

《 Isn't she beautiful? Tell? Yes?...But that's not for your eyes 》

The poor guy didn't even have time to be displeased when Tomiyama already rushed at him.

Usually in a fight people aim at the jaws or cheekbones, but God, this crazy boy was definitely aiming right at the bastard's eyes.

You jumped at someone else's scream and saw a crowd gathering around something.

Of course, you immediately realized that your boyfriend might have caused this commotion. And you weren't wrong. Running closer, you immediately saw the flashing yellow jacket of Shishitoren.

It was a bit difficult, but you had to pull Tomiyama away from his new rival victim. Otherwise, that jerk definitely wouldn't have survived.

◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇

[yoyomomiko]

[ONE] — Ghosts = $$$

☆ `` SPECTRAL SCAMMERS ``

☆ — summary: when cartman comes up with yet another 'get rich quick' scheme, he forces his friends, and you, into starting a ghost hunting service. armed with a mix of makeshift equipment, a questionable van and no actual skills, you begin taking jobs to "exorcise" haunted houses.

warnings: strong language, cartman being cartman.

(a/n): first chapter is out and honestly I don't really know where this is going!! also, I'm extremely sorry for the short length of this chapter :< --- usually, first chapters are always shorter! i'll try my best to make the other chapters longer :)

wc: 1932

★ m.list

★ series m.list

[NEXT] ->

The cafeteria was a chaotic mess as always. Muffled chatter, students fighting, and the occasional shout from the lunch staff scolding some kid for trying to sneak an extra carton of milk. You sat at the usual table in the far corner, picking at your food. Across from you, Stan and Kyle were arguing about some documentary they watched in History, while Clyde was halfway through his second slice of pizza.

"Alright, assholes, listen up!" Cartman's voice cut through the arguing boys. He slammed his tray onto the table for everyone's attention, the loud sound making Tweek flinch so hard he almost spilled his coffee.

"Oh, great, what now?" Stan groaned, leaning back in his chair.

"You're gonna thank me later, Stan." Cartman cleared his throat, glancing at everyone sitting at the table. "Because I just came up with the best idea of my life. No, of your lives, too, because you're all gonna be a part of it."

Kyle raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Let me guess, some new way to scam people out of their money?"

"Yeah, Kyle, because having ambition is such a crime." Cartman shot back, rolling his eyes dramatically. "But no, this isn't just a scam. It's a business opportunity. A gold mine. And all you losers have to do is stop being such whiny little bitches and listen to me for five seconds."

"Dude, just get to the point." Stan muttered, his hands resting on top of the table as his brows furrowed together.

Cartman smirked, leaning forward on the table as if he was about to deliver a secret. "Ghost hunting."

There was a moment of silence, broken only by the distant crash of a tray hitting the floor somewhere across the cafeteria.

"Ghost hunting?" Clyde repeated with a mouthful of pizza.

"Yes, Clyde, try to keep up." Cartman snapped. "Think about it. Those dumbass ghost hunting shows on TV. People eat that crap up! We can charge idiots in this town hundreds of dollars to 'investigate' their haunted houses and get rid of their spooky little Casper problems!"

Kyle shook his head with a sigh. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Even for you, Cartman."

"It's not stupid!" Cartman shot back, slamming his fist on the table hard enough to make Tweek jump again.

"People are stupid, Kyle. They'll pay us to run around their creepy old houses with flashlights, pretending to find ghosts! And if there's no ghost? We'll just make one! Bang on some walls, throw some stuff around... Boom, paranormal activity."

"That's literally fraud." You pointed out, resting your chin on your hand. "You realize that, right?"

Cartman waved you off as if you mentioned something as unimportant as the weather. "Pfft, no one's gonna care. We'll make them sign waivers. Legal waivers make everything legit!"

Stan exchanged a doubtful look with you, then glanced back at Cartman. "This sounds like the kind of thing that gets us arrested. Or worse, sued."

"Oh my God, you guys are so dramatic." Cartman groaned, throwing his hands in the air. "Look, do you want to spend the rest of high school broke and boring, or do you wanna be rich and badass?"

"Rich and badass does sound kinda nice..." Clyde admitted, earning a glare from Kyle.

"Clyde, seriously?"

"What? I need the money! My dad cut my allowance because I spent it all on skins in Fortnite."

"I can't believe I'm surrounded by morons." Kyle buried his face in his hands.

"Ghosts aren't even real!" Tweek blurted, his hands shaking as he gripped his cup. "What if we mess with something we don't understand? What if we summon a demon or-"

"Tweek, for the love of God." Craig interrupted, his voice flat and bored. "You're not summoning anything. It's fake."

Tweek's eyes darted to Craig, then back to Cartman. "B-But even if it's fake, what if- what if people find out?! What if we get exposed or something?!"

"Tweek, no one cares about your paranoia." Cartman rolled his eyes. "Besides, it's not like we're actually gonna run into any ghosts. We're just taking money from idiots who think their houses are haunted because their furniture makes weird noise."

"I dunno, dude." Kenny finally spoke up, voice muffled by his hood. "What's the cut? Like, how much are we each getting?"

"Ah! The voice of reason! Don't worry Kenny. We'll split it... Fairly."

"Fairly?" Kyle immediately narrowed his eyes. "That means you're going to take the biggest cut, doesn't it?"

"Uh, duh, because it's my idea." Cartman shot back. "But you'll still get plenty. Enough to buy whatever poor people stuff you need, Kenny."

"Works for me, I'm in." Kenny shrugged.

"Dude!" Kyle exclaimed, looking betrayed.

"What? I need money!"

You sighed, glancing around the table. "So let me get this straight." You started, mentally preparing yourself. "You want us to break into random people's houses, pretend to find ghosts, and charge them a fortune for it? Do you even have a plan for how this is supposed to work?"

"Of course I have a plan!" Cartman replied, puffing out his chest. "Step one, we make a website and some fake business cards. Step two, we spread the word around town. Step three, profit."

"That's not a plan." Stan muttered, leaning back in his chair again.

"It's a great plan." Cartman's brows furrowed together. "And you know what? If you don't want in, fine. But when I'm rolling in cash and you're stuck eating this nasty ass lunch food, don't come crying to me."

Stan groaned, rubbing his temples. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but fine. I'm in. Only to make sure you don't burn someone's house down."

Kyle threw his hands up with a groan and a roll of his eyes. "Oh my God. You're all insane."

"Come on, Kyle." You smirked, nudging him with your elbow. "It could be... Interesting."

Kyle stared at you as if you just suggested jumping off a bridge. But after a moment, he sighed heavily. "Fine. But if this ends in a disaster, I'm blaming all of you."

"Perfect!" Cartman grinned, looking around at his newly recruited 'team'.

"Welcome to the South Park Paranormal Crew, bitches. First job is tomorrow night. Bring flashlights and maybe some fake blood."

Craig glared at Cartman. "Tweek and I never said we were joining."

"I don't care about you losers, go sit on a dick or something." Cartman shot back.

Craig's eyes narrowed, his piercing gaze burning holes through Cartman. "You know what? I'm in, fatass." He spoke through gritted teeth, to which Cartman smirked.

"I-I guess I'm in too." Tweek stammered, his hands shaking uncontrollably.

"Amazing! What do you guys say we have a meeting at my house this night to prepare for tomorrow?" Cartman held a smug and confident look.

"Do we have a choice?" You sighed, already tired of this.

"No. Eight o'clock sharp!" He declared. "Don't forget that, fuckers!"

.

.

.

.

Later that night, the group crowded into Cartman's basement. The space was a mess, an old couch shoved against one wall, half empty soda cans all over a coffee table, and a mysterious stain on the carpet that no one wanted to investigate. You sat quietly between Kyle and Craig, who were both visibly annoyed.

Cartman stood at the front, a whiteboard behind him covered in messy scrambles of ideas that looked more like the ramblings of a lunatic than a business plan. He held a marker in his hands, which he twirled dramatically before slamming it against the board.

"Alright, assholes." He began, pacing in front of the group. "Step one of becoming the greatest ghost hunters South Park has ever seen: branding. We need a website, a killer name and a look that screams 'these guys are legit'."

Stan rolled his eyes from his spot on the couch. "It's hard to scream 'legit' when you're using your mom's basement as headquarters."

"Shut up, Stan!" Cartman snapped. "Do you have a basement we can use? No? Then sit your ass down and let the professionals handle this."

Craig crossed his arms, leaning a bit closer to you, his knee brushing yours. "You don't even know how to make a website, do you?"

"Of course I do!" Cartman lied, puffing out his chest. "It's easy. You just... Click some buttons and stuff. Besides, we have Kyle for that."

Kyle straightened, glaring at Cartman. "Excuse me? Since when did I agree to be your tech support?"

"Since you're the only one here who isn't a complete moron when it comes to computers!" Cartman replied, his tone annoyingly smug.

"Watch it fatass!" Stan snapped as Craig snickered.

Kyle opened his mouth to argue but stopped when you nudged him gently. "You might as well just do it." You whispered. "The sooner we get this over with, the better."

Kyle sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "Fine, but I'm not doing this for free."

"Whatever, Jew." Cartman turned back to the whiteboard. "Now, let's talk names. We need something catchy. Something cool."

"How about we call ourselves 'Paranormal Posers'?" Craig deadpanned, earning a laugh from Kenny.

"I've got it!" Clyde exclaimed, clearly excited. "What about 'The Phantom Chasers'?"

"Lame." Cartman dismissed immediately, crossing it off the list. "We need something badass like 'South Park Paranormal Commandos'."

"Or we could just call it what it is." Stan muttered. "'Cartman's Latest Scam'."

"Do you want to get sued, Stan?" Cartman shot back. "No one's putting my name on this thing."

After another twenty minutes of ridiculous suggestions, and several rounds of arguing, you all finally settled on a name. Specter Squad.

"Simple, memorable, and cool as hell." Cartman declared, underlining it three times on the board.

.

.

While Cartman and the others brainstormed more ways to make themselves seem legit, Kyle sat at Cartman's ancient desktop computer, typing at it furiously.

The homepage was basic but effective.

A bold header reading "SPECTER SQUAD: South Park's Premier Ghost Hunting Team" in glowing green text, complete with a stock image of a haunted house in the background.

"This looks so fake." Kyle muttered to himself, shaking his head as he uploaded a photo of the group. It was a hurriedly taken selfie from earlier that night, with Cartman front and center, beaming like an idiot, while everyone else looked irritated.

"Fake is fine." Cartman said, leaning over Kyle's shoulder. "People don't care about professional. They care about scary. Make it spooky."

"Spooky costs extra." Kyle shot back.

The rest of the group gathered around as Kyle added more details to the site.

Services

- Full Paranormal Investigation

- Ghost Removal

- Cleansing Rituals

Reviews

Janet H. - "Specter Squad saved my family from a scary ghost! Worth every penny!"

Sal F. - "I thought my apartment was haunted and they proved me right. Highly recommend!"

"Who t-the hell is 'Janet H.'?" Tweek asked, pointing to one of the reviews.

"Some lady I made up." Cartman replied, completely unfazed.

.

.

With the website finished, you all moved on to advertising. Clyde and Kenny volunteered to print out flyers, which they plastered all over the school the next day. On lockers, bulletin boards, and even the bathroom stalls.

Cartman, meanwhile, moved to social media, creating an Instagram page and spamming hashtags like #HauntedSouthPark and #GhostBeware.

"You think anyone's actually going to believe this?" Craig asked as everyone watched Cartman upload a blurry photos of an attic claiming it was 'evidence' from a recent investigation.

"Of course they will." Cartman replied confidently. "People are dumb. Trust me, by this time tomorrow we'll have our first client."

★yoyomiko ★miko

[itsthestutterforme]

Should We Try Again? 1/2 (toxic!Rafe Cameron x toxic!reader)

Summary: Rafe tries to accuse you of cheating, and you did some snooping of your own. And when Rafe found out you went through his phone, you were in for it.

Notes: GIF is not mine, all mistakes are my own, Topper is a really good friend in this fic, reader is black, dark themes (choking, threats, arguing, name calling, overall just toxic behavior)

If any of these making you uncomfortable, pls don’t read. Take care of yourselves.

**

You and Rafe had one of your fights again. The yelling match, screaming in each other’s face kind of fight.

The kind of fight where the police gets called because someone heard glass breaking and shouting.

This particular time, he logged into your Instagram and founded close to 50 DMs from guys commenting on your stories where you posted your OOTDs.

You never opened any of the DMs but there were too many to go unnoticed.

“Do you get off on having other guys want you or something? Huh?” He starts as he abruptly forces his way into the bathroom where you were showering.

“What are you talking about, Rafe?” You snark, ringing out the water from your hair.

“What the hell is this?” He rips the shower curtain open.

“Rafe!” You scold, shutting off the water so none leaks onto the floor. He shoves his phone in your face and repeats, “What the hell is this?”

“They’re DMs, Rafe. Why are you talking to me like I did something wrong?”

“Because you did do something wrong by not blocking these sons of bitches. You like the attention, don’t you? You fucking slut.”

“Don’t you dare call me a slut, asshole. It’s DMs. They don’t mean shit!”

You close the shower curtain so you can resume your shower when he ripped it open again.

“Oh it means something when they’re sending dick pics, Y/N! They want to fuck you!”

“It doesn’t matter if they want me because I’m with you, Rafe. Not them.” You tried to reason.

You were already exhausted from work and you really didn’t need this right now.

“You’ve been sending them nudes, haven’t you?” “Are you fucking serious, Rafe?” “Do I look like I’m joking right now?” He says flatly, his nose flaring angrily.

“No, I haven’t sent anybody nudes. I didn’t even know they sent me dick pics because I don’t open them, Rafe.” He gives you a pointed look and you crossed your arms as a challenge.

It was clear you weren’t going to shower in peace so why not add some fuel to this fire.

“You’re such a hypocrite, you know that? Shame on me for having fifty unopened DMs but everything is okay when you have hundreds of opened DMs?” You antagonize, slowly stepping out of the shower with suds still on your body.

You watch as his face fell for a few seconds before it hardens once again.

“You’ve been going through my phone?” He asks. “Of course I have! Because I know you’ve been in my phone, desperate to find secrets to use against me. So I figure why not dig up some secrets of my own.”

“Y/N,” he warns lowly, taking a step towards you.

“What did you find?” He wrote down a few things about the cross.

Like where he’s already looked and potential places where it might be. But he hid those notes behind a passcode in his journal.

There were also a few texts of Ward asking ‘if it was taken care of’. Garret’s body.

There was no way you could figure out the passcode, right?

“What are you so scared I would find?” You questioned, purposely being vague. There was no point in being specific, if he was going to connect the dots for you.

His anxiety got the best of him and he wraps a hand around your throat, giving it a warning squeeze.

“Stop being cute and tell me what you saw.” He orders.

There wasn’t a constant pressure so you were able to breathe fairly normal. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t change his mind.

“I only went through your social media and some of your messages. Nothing else.” His hand twitched around your throat when you mentioned messages.

“I just wanted to see if you were texting others girls.” You added, wrapping your hands around his wrist.

“What else?” “Nothing else, I swear.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Y/N.” “I’m not lying to you.” He pulls away from your throat and you instinctively touched your collar bone.

His gaze softens when you stepped away from him. He itched to get close to you and apologize for over reacting, but he still wasn’t sure that you didn’t know about the gold and the bodies.

So his hands remained by his sides, tightening every so often.

“What are you protecting?” You asked cautiously. “Don’t pull that shit again.” He states before storming out of the bathroom and slamming the front door of your house.

That was a few days ago, and you haven’t spoke to each other since. The most interaction you’ve had was him viewing your story. That’s it.

You’ve been going straight home after work, not wanting to interact with anyone unless you had to.

But a small part of you wished you’d come home to Rafe waiting for you on your door step or him come to see you during your break.

But he never did. That was enough for you to come to the conclusion that he stopped caring about you.

He was so worried about protecting something or someone that was willing to choke you out to protect it.

You’ve seen him anxious about a few things but nothing set him off like you did that night.

You were watching one of your comfort movies with your fleece blanket wrapped around you, eating some stir fry you ordered on UberEats when your phone chimed.

Topper: hey you doing okay?

Tossing the phone back on the bed, you used the chopsticks to dip a piece of beef into the speciality sauce before eating it.

Your phone chimed again.

Topper: We were friends before you started dating Rafe, remember? I care about you too.

You: I assume Rafe told you everything?

Topper: Just that you had an argument and you’re on a break

You: Well that’s an oversimplification.

Topper: I’m throwing a party tonight. You should come.

You: I’m not exactly in the mood to get hit on by a bunch of drunk dudes.

Topper: Stick by me and you won’t have that problem.

You: You’re right. Instead, you would have a Rafe sized problem.

Topper: I’m not scared of Rafe.

Topper: Just come by for a few. It makes me feel uneasy that you’re by yourself at home all this time.

Topper: Please.

You: Fine, Topper.

Topper: Great! I’m on my way.

**

You hated yourself for how quick your eyes locked in on Rafe as soon as he walked into the party wearing a navy blue shirt and a white hat that matched his white cargo shorts.

He dapped up a few guys that greeted him by the front door and looked straight up to where you were sitting next to Topper.

He found you almost immediately with an expressionless face.

Your heart skipped a beat that he looked for you but that feeling of elation left you as quickly as it came.

He didn’t reach out to you for three days. No call. No text. No apology. He was done and now it was your turn to feel the same.

“You two are like magnets,” Topper says from behind you. “Toxic ones,” he eventually adds with a chuckle.

“I knew you were going to say that,” you teased, playfully hitting his shoulder.

Sadness kicked your gut when two girls approached Rafe, one of them ran her hands over his chest as she went to whisper something in his ear.

“I’m going to grab another drink.” You said when you notice Rafe coming up the stairs with the girls.

“I’ll come with you,” you gave him a look. “What? I meant it when I said stick by me. Let’s go.”

He lets you lead the way and you go down the second set of stairs but you stopped abruptly, peering down at your jewelry.

Everything you were wearing was gifted to you by Rafe, even down to the earrings. You still wore the R golden plate necklace and matching anklet. You had his signet ring on your thumb because that was the only finger it could fit.

“Everything okay, Y/N?” Topper questions. Rafe was watching the entire interaction from the loveseat you and Topper were just sitting on.

You bent down to take off your anklet and moved to take off your earrings next.

“Can you help me take off the necklace?” You asked, pulling off the ring and placing it with the other jewelry.

“Sure,” he agrees, pushing your passion twists out of the way.

You felt his warm hand brushing against the back of your neck when he unclasped the necklace.

He put the necklace in your outstretched hand. You walked back up the few stairs you crossed and approached Rafe whose eyes were still trained on you.

You let out a shaky breath before taking his warm hand into your own and giving him the jewelry. You were beginning to miss his touch.

Guilt flashed across his face, looking down at his hand. You avoided his gaze and left him without another word, rushing down the stairs and Topper followed after you.

“Well that was dramatic,” one of the girls says, rolling her eyes while her friend eyes the gold carat in Rafe’s hand that easily amounted to 75k.

“Can I have the earrings?” She asked and before Rafe could respond, she reached for them anyway.

Rafe caught her hand in a tight grip and she whimpers at the pressure.

“You’re hurting me,” she groans.

“No one told you to touch what’s hers,” he shoves her to the ground. “Hey! You asshole!” Her friend snaps, standing from the couch and helps her friend to her feet.

He doesn’t spare them another glance as he digs in his pocket for a baggie to do a few lines.

“Y/N,” Topper calls, finally catching up with you in the kitchen. “Are you okay?” He asks you, examining your face for anything he could read.

“You should check on him,” you poured yourself a shot in a small solo cup and knocked it back, barely making a face.

“I’m checking up on you,” “It needed to be done, okay. All of it were just reminders of what I don’t have anymore.” You explain, pouring yourself another shot.

“That was very brave for you to do.” “Then why do I feel like shit?” You huffed after taking another shot and he stops you from pouring another one.

“Because the break up is still fresh, Y/N.” He looks at you like you’re going to fall apart before his very eyes.

His soft eyes examines your face for any micro expression that could give away what you’re thinking.

“Look, Top. I know you’re trying to help and all but if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to cry.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“I want to enjoy your party. Your birthday is tomorrow. You shouldn’t be spending it watching me cry.”

“That’s not happening. I’m not leaving you.” He shakes his head and you took his hands into yours, much like you did with Rafe.

But Rafe’s hand were warmer.

“It doesn’t make you a bad friend. I’ll find Sarah.” He studied your face once again and you gave him a soft smile.

“Go,” “Alright,” he says, not bothering to hide his disappointment. “I’ll come find you in like ten minutes.”

“Take your time,” he leaves the kitchen and you let out a deep sigh. You shouldn’t be here.

But you didn’t have the heart to ditch Topper on his birthday rager.

You pressed your palms into the cool, granite countertop and bowed your head to release the tension in your neck.

You hadn’t realize someone was in the kitchen with you until you heard footsteps and someone’s low voice. To your surprise, it was Pope standing on the other side of the counter.

“Sorry, were you saying something?” You asked softly, the shot were slowly starting to get to you.

“I said you are too pretty and insanely smart to be treated like an option.”

That was the nicest thing anyone said to you. You haven’t felt valued in a long time.

“Thanks, Pope. That really means a lot.”

His mouth fell open at your words. “You know who I am?”

“Yes I know who you are. Your family makes the best seafood boils in town.” You explained with a chuckle.

“She knows my name,” he said to himself, which he quickly realized you can hear.

“I should haven’t said that out loud,” he admits and you let out a laugh.

“You’re cute,” he scratches the back of his neck to hide how flustered he way. “Um, are you hiding from Rafe in here?”

“Yes, I am.” You admitted, crossing your arms. “Well if you want some company, my friends are by the bonfire outside. If you want to join. O-only if you want to. I’m not trying to force anything or-“

You interrupted his rant to say, “Sure. I’ll go with you.” You took a solo cup and swung by the keg on the way out, offering some to Pope.

“By the way, what makes you think I’m insanely smart?” “I’m a TA for Mr. Patterson. He still uses your test as a grading key.” He explains after taking a swig of your beer.

“Of course he does. I loved his class.” You admitted with a chuckle. “What is this?”

JJ stands from the chair and motions between you and Pope with his ringed pinky.

“I told her she can hang out with us.” “Hey, JJ.” You greet with a small wave.

“‘Sup, sweetheart. Want a hit?” He offered a blunt to you and you graciously accepted.

He had a grin on his face as he watched you take a hit. He expected you to cough or at least have your eyes water from the potency but much to his surprise, you exhaled the puff of smoke slowly without a fuss.

The mix of the weed and the tequila was throwing your head in a spin. “Never pegged you to be a pothead,” “I’m full of surprises, Maybank.”

A drunk Rafe stumbles outside in search for you when he finds you laughing with Pope and JJ.

JJ noticed your shivering whenever there was a breeze and peeled off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders.

Rafe wasn’t even aware what was happening until his vision started to blur.

He was crying.

[morganski-19]

The One With the Second Date

“Ok, I’m not sure what I was expecting to happen in the end,” Ryan explains as they leave the theater, “but it wasn’t that.”

Nancy laughs. “It was a stereotypical romcom, they were always going to end up together in the end.”

Ryan and Nancy walk down the sidewalk. Ryan’s hands shoved into his jacket pockets while Nancy’s are at her sides.

“I just think that she was much better with the other guy. They had way more chemistry.”

Nancy nods with another laugh.

They come to a stop outside of a parking garage. Ryan turns toward her. “My car’s in there,” he points awkwardly to the garage.

“My bus stop is right over there,” Nancy points across the street.

Ryan lets out a nervous huff. “You know, we didn’t really get to talk much tonight. With seeing a movie and everything. My parking’s for the whole night. And there’s this nice ice cream place around the corner that we could go to. If you wanted to.”

Nancy smiles. “Sure.”

“Sure?” Ryan looks generally surprised. “Sure, yeah ok. It’s this way.”

He leads them across the street and down one block. Turning at the corner and halfway down, there is a small ice cream shop. They walk in, a family and one other couple at the tables. But otherwise, it’s empty. Nancy looks at the options, debating which to choose. While Ryan immediately knows what he wants and asks the employee. One scoop of vanilla and one cookies and cream. Making sure to note that they needed to be rung up together but were in no rush.

When Nancy chooses the honey vanilla flavor, Ryan beats her to register to pay.

“You know I can pay for us at least once,” Nancy jokes. She instead pulls out a few dollars and slides them into the tip jar.

Ryan laughs. Taking back his change and dumping it into the jar as well. “It was my idea, so it’s my money.”

Nancy walks over to the table in the corner. “So, I need to plan the next date and then I get to pay?”

“Yeah,” Ryan stutters. There’s been a nervous energy with him all night. “That would work.”

“I promise I don’t mean anything by this question, I’m just generally interested. Why are you so nervous? We’ve already been on one date.”

Ryan sets down his ice cream, rubbing his palms on his pants. “I’ve been on what seems like hundreds of first dates. It’s down to a routine at this point. But as far as second dates go, there’s only been a few. And most of those times, it never went anywhere else, and I was back on the app the next morning.”

Nancy nods, showing that she’s listening.

“I get that’s just how dating can be, sometimes. Especially through dating apps. But I just want something that lasts more than a week or two, you know?”

“I do.” Nancy stares down at her ice cream. “I kind of gave up dating for a while for the same reason. It was just horrible date after horrible date. So I gave up.”

“What made you try again?”

Nancy sighs. Debating how much she should tell. “My best friend, who also lives across the hall from me, got a new girlfriend.”

“Oh,” he says. With a mix of shock and concern.

“There’s nothing there, I promise. Back when we were in college, there was a phase where we both liked each other but didn’t know. Part of me kind of always harbored those feelings for her, but it was time to finally let them go. Whatever we could have had was over, it was time to recognize that.”

“And you though going on a dating app would help with that?”

Nancy lets her hands fall into her hands. “That makes me sound like an asshole. I swear that I didn’t agree to go on a date with you just to get over my stupid feelings. They played no part in deciding to go on a date with you.”

Ryan reaches across the table and gently pushes Nancy’s hands out of the way. “I believe you, for what it’s worth. We’ve all been there at some point.”

“That makes me feel a little better.”

“I appreciate you being honest with me. I,” he pauses. Taking a deep breath. “I really like you, Nancy. You’re probably the best person I’ve met on one of these apps.”

Nancy smiles. “Same here.”

They fall into a comfortable silence. Finishing their ice cream and heading outside again. When Ryan goes to shove his hands into his pockets again, Nancy stops him. Taking his hand into hers. They walk back to the street where they would need to part ways. Nancy waiting for the bus and Ryan crossing the street to his car.

“Would it be ok if I drove you home?” he asks. “It’s dark and way better than a bus.”

“Yeah, that would be ok.”

She follows him to his car and directs them to her apartment building. He finds a spot down the street and parks. Planning on walking her to her door. With full explanation that she can tell him no.

Instead, she rolls her eyes and gets out of the car. Waiting for him to get out. He does, stumbling over his step a bit.

“So, for our next date,” Nancy talks as they walk up the stairs. “I was thinking that we could to this Mexican place I love.”

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

“And it’s my idea so my money, right?” She stops in front of her door. Facing him.

He laughs. “That was the deal.”

Inside of Steve and Robin’s apartment, Robin is staring through the peephole. Having heard Nancy come back and got curious. That’s all, curious.

“What the hell are you doing?” Steve asks. Looking unenthused.

Robin shushes him. “Nancy is back from her date. She’s talking with the guy outside the door.”

“Let me see.” Steve pushes Robin out of the way, looking through the peephole. “Oh, he’s cuter in person.”

Robin slaps his arm. “Don’t encourage this.”

“How am I encouraging this? I’m behind a door, she can’t hear me. Also, it’s too late for that. I was there for the pre-date crisis.”

“And she still went out on the date?”

Steve shrugs. “Yeah well, she seemed to really like the guy. Argyle even did his weird stalking thing he does and found nothing bad. He checked out.”

Robin pushes Steve out of the way again, looking through the peephole once more. “Oh no, she’s doing that face. You know that face.”

“I am well aware of the face.” Steve leans up against the wall next to the door. “Why is this bothering you so much? She’s allowed to date if she wants to.”

“I don’t know,” Robin groans. Letting her forehead thunk against the door. “She just deserves so much, and she’s been on so many dates and none of them have been good. I’m just . . .  looking out for her. That’s all.”

Steve hums, disbelieving. Pulling out his phone.

Steve: I think Robin is jealous of Nancy’s new guy

Eddie: Oh wow, what a shocker

Eddie: Do you not remember the two-hour long pity session she conveniently had after Nancy had the first date

Steve: They’re out in the hall right now, Robin can’t stop looking at them through the peephole

Eddie: Can’t she just pretend to take out the trash like a normal person

Steve: Are you going to go do that now?

Eddie: Yes

Eddie: I need to see this guy in person

Back in the hall, while all of that was ensuing, Nancy and Ryan were saying goodbye. Not exactly making any moves toward it. Until Eddie opens the door, with a half full bag of trash in hand, interrupts it.

“Oh, hey, Nance. I didn’t hear you get back,” he says, nonchalant. Looking over at Ryan with fake shock. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Nancy sighs, catching onto Eddie’s play. “Ryan, this is my roommate Eddie.”

Ryan holds out his hand. “Nice to meet you, man. Nancy’s told me about you.”

“Same here.” Eddie shakes his hands. “I’m just gonna, thank you.” He steps in between them to head down the hall to the trash shoot. Leaving them alone again.

“I should get going,” Ryan says, pushing his hands into his pockets again. “It was really nice to see you again.”

Nancy smiles. “Yeah, it was. I’ll text you later when I’m free.”

“I’ll be looking for it.”

There is a break of silence. Expectation in the air. Ryan shrugs in the direction of the stairs. “I’ll see you later.”

“Oh my god.” Nancy stops his from walking away. Grabbing his face and pulling him down. Pressing a kiss to his lips. He’s shocked for a second, before pressing into it. “Have a good night,” she says after pulling back.

Ryan steps backward, a blush covering his face. “Yeah, uh, yeah. You too. I’ll text you later. Yeah. Bye.”

He turns to walk down the hall while Nancy snorts to herself. Eddie comes back around the corner with a teasing smile.

“Don’t even start, Munson.” Nancy walks into the apartment.

“Oh, I wasn’t going to say anything.” He closes the door behind them. “I was just merely observing.”

Nancy glares at him while taking off her earring. “Observing?”

“He seems nice,” Eddie teasing tone.

“He is nice.”

“Is he a good kisser?”

“There it is.” Nancy walks to her bedroom. “Night.”

Eddie leans on the back of the couch. “No, I wanted to do the after-date gossip.”

“Maybe tomorrow.” She closes the bedroom door.

Eddie sighs, pulling out his phone to see many new texts from Steve.

Steve: Holy shit, she kissed him

Steve: Robin is not taking that well

Steve: She’s trying to play off her jealousy as protectiveness

Steve: Maybe we should warn Nancy about the tirade she’s going to get tomorrow about the dangers of kissing random men

Eddie: I don’t know, the guy was pretty respectful about it

Eddie: He was smiling like an idiot when I passed him in the hall

Eddie: And Nancy seems happy about it

Steve: This is going to be both entertaining and a pain in the ass

Eddie: Agreed

Eddie: I take it Robin isn’t going out tonight then

Steve: Sadly not

Steve: There goes our plans

Eddie: Damn, I kind of really want to kiss you right now

Steve: You know

Steve: No one is ever in the laundry room this late

Eddie: I could do some laundry

Steve: Meet you there in twenty

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or taken off) @slowandsteddie, @annieofhearts, @cacdyke, @ubpd, @captain--low,

@thespaceantwhowrites, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @lunaticparisianlady,

@apomaro-mellow, @dolphincliffs, @dragonmama76, @maggiebug417, @stevesbipanic,

@fearieshadow, @eightpackdiaz, @au79burger @bookworm0690 , @practicallybegging,

@potato-of-the-lord, @autumncrocusandladybug, @estrellami-1, @ilovecupcakesandtea, @gregre369

@my2amgaythoughts, @ellietheasexylibrarian, @emmabubbles, @eriquin, @grtwdsmwhr

@croatoan-like-its-hot, @dreamercec, @dreamy-jeans137, @morallyundefined

[blacksoulchoirx]

For pinesot4month2025

Prompt: Magic

Stanbel. SFW

-

Stan reluctantly let himself get pulled by the sleeve through the crowds packing the fairgrounds.

"It's right over here! C'mon, Grunkle Stan, my future love life depends on it!" Mabel said, dragging him past some very nice free things she could be doing at the fair. Like drinking from the water fountain. Or sitting on a bench. He could tell whatever she wanted was going to cost him money - strike that - more money. She'd already played every game on the midway, ridden every ride that caught her eye and eaten more funnel cake than he thought possible. What else was even left to do?

They neared a small tent on the outskirts of the fair, decked out in obnoxious lights and flashing signs covered in hearts and some mystic mumbo jumbo symbols, with a sign reading:

Rita's Fortune Telling - The Future is Inside the Present! Secrets - Dreams - Love - All is Revealed!

Oh God, some hippie who would glance at your palm, recommend you buy a lottery ticket today, then charge you twenty bucks for the experience. He knew this scam. And besides, he already bought a lottery ticket every day anyway.

He stopped short outside the entrance and Mabel tugged harder, vibrating with excitement. "Please! There's never been anything more important to me in my entire life!"

That was the same line she'd used about having a third helping of funnel cake, but she was using those big, pleading bambi eyes that dissolved his better judgment like nothing else could. They must have some sort of corrosive property. Ford should really get on studying that.

"I got a bad feelin' about this. You know it's all fake, right?," he said, but stepped forward into the tent with her anyway and was immediately assaulted by the smell of incense and moth balls.

Mabel marched up to the women at the counter who looked to be somewhere between sixty and two hundred with too much eyeshadow on and wearing a large shawl draped around her.

"My name's Mabel, and I'm here to find out about the future love of my life! I mean, I already know he'll be amazing and the total man of my dreams, but I'm just wondering about the finer details."

"Of course, young lady," the woman, Rita presumably, purred, "I'll pull back the veil of the present to see into your future. Only fifteen dollars."

"Hey, you haven't even told her anything yet!" Stan objected.

"Not everyone likes what they hear about the future. Payment up front or no visions from beyond."

Stan rolled his eyes and handed over the money. Rita tucked it into her shawl before leading them behind a curtain and into a small, dim room with several chairs seated around a table displaying a large glass orb.

"Touch the orb and make your request," said Rita once they were seated.

"I want to know about my future true love!" declared Mabel, hand pressed confidently to the glass. A cloud of swirling purple smoke and light spawned from inside the orb that had appeared completely empty only seconds before. Weird. Probably a parlor trick.

Rita leaned closer to the orb, studying the vague patterns made in the purple smoke.

"Hmm...I sense your beau had a troubled past. A past of secrets and failures. Much mystery surrounding this one."

Great, so her future love was gonna be one of those 'Mr. Struggle' types from the sound of it. He glanced at Mabel to gauge her reaction, but she was hanging on to every word.

"A man beholden to greed," Rita continued, "who indulges in worldly vices with little restraint. Loneliness no longer plagues him, but a burden of temptation and guilt grows ever heavier on his conscience. A man whose worn many names, even the name of his other face."

Okay, that last part didn't even make sense, but this loverboy seemed like an asshole. He wasn't paying this crackpot to say his niece's future would be with some low-life who didn't even sound worthy of opening a car door for her. He wouldn't let a guy like that within ten feet of Mabel. He opened his mouth to set Rita straight when she gave a dramatic gasp and leaned further towards the orb, her eyes glowing the same shade of purple as the smoke. But that couldn't be right - it was probably a reflection. Or fancy contacts.

"But I see more! Through failure comes triumph, and through adversity and misfortune comes perseverance and innovation. This man would do anything for family, for the ones he loves. Especially for his true love, for you, he'll be a protector and provider like no other."

"Wow," breathed Mabel, looking starstruck, “that sounds amazing! Is he in Gravity Falls? Can we get married?”

Rita, whose eyes appeared to be normal now, shook her head, "I'm sorry, I couldn't say. The veil only lifts to show certain things."

"I'll bet it does," Stan muttered under his breath before addressing Mabel, "you got your answers, Sweetie. let's leave Rita to polish her orb in private or whatever she does."

"However," Rita continued, ignoring him, "I can tell you that I saw he'd been marked. Permanently. By a terrible event that changed the course of his life."

Mabel's jaw dropped, "marked like...a scar? That's so cool."

"It could be any kind of unfortunate mark. A scar, certainly," She cocked an eyebrow at Stan, "or perhaps a brand or burn.

Stan's feet were moving before he realized it, snatching Mabel out of her seat and into his arms, booking it out of Rita's tent while she howled with laughter behind them. There was definitely some kind of witchcraft going on here, but he wasn't sticking around to find out exactly what sort.

"Hey, what's the deal? It was just getting good back there," Mabel said, frowning at him when they'd finally stopped on the opposite side of the fairgrounds.

Stan's heart was thundering, but he tried to keep his cool. "Ah, that old lady was full of it. Probably crazy. Had to split before she tried to charge us extra for staying so long."

Mabel, still in his arms and at eye level, fixed him with a look of suspicion. "I thought she seemed legit. Especially when her eyes glowed like that. I think you're scared 'cause she was talking about you."

Perceptive little thing, wasn't she.

The jig is up Stan. Can't bullshit your way out of this one, he thought, feeling very much like he was having an out of body experience. This was a conversation he never wanted to have. Never expected to have. He'd been so careful, shoved it all down and locked it away with everything else he tried not to think about.

This was just one more thing he'd ruined by being the fuck up that he was and it happend to the thing most important to him.

Mabel's soft lips pressed against his cheek, breaking him out of his downward spiral.

"You got that serious look on your face. Relax, old man," She winked at him, "your secrets safe with me." Leaning close she whispered, "and I always kinda thought of you as the man of my dreams, but I didn't think you felt that way about me."

"Yeah? That right?" He said, still feeling shell shocked and shaking his head. "What am I gonna do with you?" he muttered, partially to her and partially to himself.

"Hmm," Mabel looked around, "I'd go for a lemonade. Secrets make me thirsty."

That got a bark of laughter from him. "Alright. We'll start there."

-

[cicikyu-mimicsyou]

The End With You

Charlie Dalgleish x Ashley DuPont (OC)

Description: Set in the world of The Last Of Us, Ashley DuPont has been surviving on her own for six years now, and she has felt no need for a traveling partner. None, whatsoever… until a certain blue-eyed damsel in distress needs some assistance in the Protection department.

Disclaimer: This story is a multi-chapter explicit fic set in a zombie apocalypse. There will be gore, eventual NSFW content, as well as mentions of rape and SA (no graphic depictions). Read at your own discretion. MINORS DNI.

Word Count: 3,284

A/N: AAAA it’s out finally!!! i hope you guys like this! i’m realizing i should have specified that this fic is mostly sfw with eventual smut sorry guys😭 and sorry for the ugly formatting too, i’m still learning tumblr mechanics as this is the first time i’m posting work anywhere other than AO3 lol.

Chapter 1 : Hunger

To be frank, Ashley had never thought of herself as a very ethical or otherwise righteous person.

Or even a good person, really.

Ashley was ruthless. She’d been that way since she was young. Raised by an ex-soldier-boy with a twisted savior complex; forged by his teachings… born into a world that’d been utterly eviscerated long before she entered it, and would likely remain that way long after she was gone. Kill or be killed, eat or be eaten; be the dog that consumes, not the cannibalized pup. That was what she’d been taught ever since she was old enough to comprehend language.

Her body count—in only the most lethal sense of the term—had to’ve been in the hundreds, not including infected, and she wasn’t even thirty. She’d killed her first fellow human at seven years old, with a knife no less, when the asshole had tried to stick his hand down her pants while she was sleeping. It was the first time her father had said he was proud of her.

All that to say, Ashley was a ruthless killing machine, who trusted no one and who traveled strictly alone now that her old man had kicked the proverbial bucket.

But the scene playing out in front of her… it had her questioning things.

A group of humans—non-infected’s—were all taking turns chasing someone around a large building which used to be some kind of industrial shop. It was a twisted game of cat and mouse. Ashley had seen this group before… had the misfortune of having run into them a couple times. They were idiots who liked to play with their prey and take in the ones who proved resilient. Those who didn’t were typically slaughtered in violent, and often painful ways. She’d already taken a third of their group out before they finally threw up the white flag and stopped their pursuit. Hence, she supposed, why they were actively trying to torture this sweet looking guy who’d only wanted food.

Ashley was perched precariously on the rafters, staring down at the scene, battling internally on what the hell she should do. On the one hand, she wanted to leave these assholes to their own devices and let them do whatever the hell they wanted… but on the other… she wanted revenge for the slowly-healing stab wound in her thigh, and taking away these assholes’ prey was enticing.

But when she saw tears in the victim’s eyes, it surprised her how immediately she came to a decision. She was going to save this pathetic motherfucker even if it meant taking another knife to her good leg.

Ashley silently scrambled over the rafters to find a good, hidden vantage point, then loaded her bow. With an eye always kept on the victim, she drew back the string and fired on the nearest hunter, pinning his head to the wall behind him. Blood and brain matter covering ugly dark blue paint, jaw slack, body limp and hanging from the arrow. Ashley loaded the second one right as she saw the victim of the chase drop and slide behind some kind of counter. A terrible hiding place.

She launched another arrow into the skull of a woman that came sprinting around the corner. The hidden victim peaked his head out just in time to see it, then immediately ducked back behind the counter. Ashley counted twelve more hunters… she only had ten arrows, minus the two she’d just launched. If she could somehow grab those, and get back up to the rafters..? No, that’d take too long.

“Tyler’s dead!” A man’s voice yelled. “Who the fuck let him get a bow?!”

“He doesn’t have one!” Another man replied. “You think we’re dumb enough to leave a long range fucking weapon where he could find it?!”

“Then who the fuck shot Tyler with a fucking bow and arrow?!” The first man replied, sounding even more outraged now. Ashley made sure she stayed hidden, string drawn just in case. She resisted the urge to free an arrow and shoot one of them in the middle of their sentence, just to scare them, but she knew it gave the victim a better chance if she stayed hidden… much to her internal disappointment.

“I don’t fucking know! Start searching the goddamn area, and Ryan, make sure that little starving freak doesn’t get away!”

Ashley watched the group scatter, except for one man who seemed to be watching the counter with his rifle. No one else was watching him. Christ, were they amateurs?

Well… it was good news for her, at least.

She surveyed her surroundings to find a place she could drop from without hitting anything on the way down. There was a large open space where the building’s roof had caved in, just five feet behind the asshole with the rifle… honestly, it couldn’t have been more perfect. While Ashley adored hand-to-hand combat and confrontations, any situation that required stealth was where she could truly shine. Despite her body being almost entirely muscle, the muscle was lean and she knew how to carry herself to be lighter than a feather. She was light on her feet, gentle with her hands and downright fucking vicious when she had the upper hand and no one to protect but herself.

Once she was sure the coast was clear, Ashley fastened the bow to her back and drew a knife. She scooted to the very edge and dropped down silently... she ignored the searing wave of pain that vibrated throughout her right leg from that stupid stab wound.

Keeping her head on a swivel, Ashley tip-toed up behind the gunner and pounced. Knife to the jugular, hand over his mouth, forcing him to choke on his own blood. She thrusted her fist forward, knife tearing his throat wide open, and waited to drop him until his body went limp. She wiped the knife on her uninjured thigh and cautiously stepped forward, looking to see no one else within eye or earshot. Seriously… fucking amateurs.

Ashley padded over to the counter and leaned around to see him, the victim, curled up on the floor. He was staring at her like she’d just slaughtered his first born child; Ashley fought back a laugh. She simply held one finger over her lips and held her hand out to him.

“What the f-“ he started, but she emphasized the finger on her lips.

“Do you want to survive or not?” She hissed, and he barely hesitated. He lunged, taking her hand firmly in his own, and she yanked him toward her. “Follow me and do everything I say if you want to live.”

The victim nodded once, and Ashley took that fleeting moment just to look at him. Light brown hair, watery blue eyes behind a pair of glasses. While he wasn’t particularly thin, he did look rather pale and sickly. He needed food and clean water, but… he was also well-groomed. She could tell just by looking at him that if he was alone now, he hadn’t been for very long. He used to belong to a group. Did he get separated from them?

These were questions she could ask later. For now, she needed to focus on getting him the fuck out of this place.

Ashley drew her bow once more, then turned to the stranger behind her. “Stay here for a second.” She sprinted silently back to where she shot the first guy and wrenched her arrow from his head, then did the same with the woman, and hauled ass back to square one. “You’re damn lucky I scoped this place out before I came inside to see who the hell was making all that noise.”

“Why are you helping me?” The stranger asked, and his voice was so quiet she had to strain just to hear it. Oh well; it was better than being too loud.

“Because I’ve run into these assholes before and I’d do just about anything to ruin their fucking day,” she replied simply, even though a part of her knew she was lying… if only a little.

“Oh. Fair enough.“

Ashley loaded her bow string with a dirty arrow and kept it there, walking slowly through the building. She whispered over her shoulder, “There’s a back room we can get into and lock once we’re in there, with its own door up to the roof. There’s a fire escape ladder on the side of the building. How weak are you?”

“Uh…” the stranger winced. “I’ll suck it up.”

Ashley let loose a puff of breath through her nose, almost a laugh but not quite; “Good.”

Voices surrounded them. “Nothing here!” and “Keep fucking looking!” Strings of loud curse words and disgusting vitriol. With every abrupt shout, Ashley noticed the stranger behind her flinch violently. She fought the urge to hold his hand; not only did she need both hands, but she was also a bit horrified by the urge itself. What the hell had gotten into her? Feeling the need to comfort a pathetic dumbass who got himself stuck in a shitty situation… she must’ve really lost it this time.

Eventually, they got to the back room. Ashley turned the knob and pushed it open slowly. She stepped aside, letting the stranger in first, then followed behind and shut the door as quietly as she could.

Ashley moved quickly, pushing the roof access door open and sprinting up the steps. When she noticed her Damsel in Distress start to lag behind, she grabbed his wrist and yanked him up faster. “If you want to survive, you need to fucking move it.”

“I’m sorry,” the stranger whimpered, holding onto her wrist now, like a lifeline. “I haven’t eaten in days, I…”

“If you move your ass and we both survive, I’ll make you an actual hot meal,” she whispered angrily, hoping the promise would fuel him. It seemed to work well enough; the stranger gripped her a little harder and she didn’t have to pull as much.

Once they got to the roof, she was thankful to see it empty. The sun was setting now, casting an orange glow to the scene. Ashley ran along the edge of the roof, surveying the perimeter… only to find the majority of the group were all still inside and with just two pairs of assholes guarding the building’s only ground-level exits. Neither of which were on the same side as the ladder. Idiots.

She reached into the small bag on her back and grabbed one of two unopened bottles of vodka.

“What the hell are you gonna do with that?” The pretty brunette stranger stared at her incredulously. Ashley just rolled her eyes and grabbed a balled up piece of cloth, unwrapping it to reveal a lighter. “Oh… I don’t really know what I expected.”

Ashley unscrewed the top to the bottle and shoved the rag inside, then tiptoed over to the edge on the opposite side of the ladder. She turned to him and spoke firmly, “You go watch the other two fucks. When I drop this, I’m immediately gonna hit the floor so they can’t see me. You’re gonna look over the edge to see if the other assholes come over here to check what’s going on. If they do, give me a thumbs up. We’ll fucking book it to the ladder, then make a beeline for the trees and drop into the bushes. There, we’ll wait until we have a good opening to run as fast as we can. Got it?”

“Got it,” the stranger nodded. He was about to make his way to his position, when he paused. “Wait. What’s your name?”

“Why?” Ashley glared.

“Just in case we die here. I… I’d like to not feel so alone when I do,” he replied.

For a moment, Ashley stared at him, analyzing his expression. His explanation sounded like some cheesy sad bullshit, but his expression was dead serious… the fear in his icy blue eyes made her heart lurch. He was being genuine. Had she been wrong? How long had he been alone? As long as she had, maybe?

“Ashley,” she replied after a pause of her own. “You?”

“Charlie,” he answered, and she watched as the muscles in his face softened. “Thank you.”

Ashley nodded. The name suited him.

They took their positions over the edges of the roof. With a lighter in hand and molotov ready, Ashley took a deep breath in preparation.

The two men standing in front of the shop’s entrance were kicking a rock back and forth. They were mumbling to each other, half in normal speak, and half in military jargon. Because of course they were ex-military…

“When are they gonna be finished?” One of the men grumbled to the other. “At some point they’re gonna need to get their fangs out. I’m tired of chasing after these pathetic assholes.”

“We need more like that spit-fire we hit last time,” the other man replied, and Ashley sneered. They were talking about her. “She was a fuckin’ bitch, but she was hot. I’m still mad we couldn’t get close enough to have our fun with her. You seriously don’t want a piece of that ass?”

Yeah, Ashley was gonna savor the smell of their burning bodies.

“Negative. I like my bitches submissive.”

Those were some interesting last words…

Ashley lit the end of the cloth and dropped the bottle behind the two assholes, directly between them. She watched the bottle explode over the two men, glass shattering and flames spreading across their arms and faces. She hit the deck and looked over to Charlie; he turned to look at her, then gave a thumbs up.

With that, they took off to the opposite end of the building. Charlie went first, then Ashley followed, dropping down as fast as they could. Charlie may’ve been weak, but he was fast, at least. Once they hit the ground, Ashley sprinted past him, grabbing his hand and dragging him along behind her. She’d be damned if she lost him after she just fucking saved his life… that would’ve been a fucking waste of her time.

Once they were past the tree line, Ashley turned to see no one. She continued running at an angle, knowing exactly how to get to her shelter from here. She just had to play it safe, make sure they were far enough into the brush that those assholes wouldn’t see them…

“Are we far enough away?” Charlie asked, keeping his voice quiet as they reached a depth to where they could barely see the building anymore. It was getting dark, but she could handle the dark; a flashlight would only give away their position.

“Yes,” Ashley nodded. “They shouldn’t be able to see us anymore… and it’s getting dark. Just keep following me.”

“Okay,” Charlie replied. “I don’t think I said thank you yet.”

“No. But it’s not necessary,” she muttered quietly, holding a branch aside for Charlie to grab and walk past. “So what’s your deal? How did you run into them? I heard them talking about you looking for food.”

“I’ve been sort of holed up in one place for a while,” Charlie explained. He scooted past the branch and then gently let it go. “I sort of got separated from my group a month ago, and I was injured… it’s a long story. I don’t really know how to survive on my own because I’ve always had my group, and I wasn’t one of the foragers or hunters. I’m a decent scavenger, but… everywhere I look recently has been picked clean. I saw that group and thought I recognized one of them.”

“Yikes,” Ashley sighed, “that’s an ugly mistake to make… I’m glad I found you when I did.”

“Yeah.” Charlie nodded solemnly, playing with his fingertips like they were suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. “I have no idea what I’m gonna do now.”

Ashley thought for a moment. She couldn’t possibly tell him to stay with her… she was always on the move, and she had no idea where he was going. Or if he even wanted to go anywhere. Could she even handle another person staying with her? Another mouth to feed, another person to protect?

Yes, she could. But did she want to…?

“What about your group? Are you gonna try and find them?” She asked simply, looking over at Charlie, whose expression was saddened.

“We had an agreement,” he began. “If one or more of us ever got separated from the group, we’d all keep moving… try to keep to the same designated paths and hope we bump into each other on the way. Or meet each other there.”

“And this goal place is…?” Ashley questioned further as she vaulted over a fallen tree.

Charlie followed suit, moving at a slower pace but still with finesse that told her he was no stranger to navigating forests. “It’s a commune down in Wyoming. Apparently they have electricity, food, a whole society down there without the military overrunning everything.”

Ashley frowned. She’d never heard of this mysterious commune… but then again, she supposed she didn’t have people to hear about it from. She’d been alone for such a long time. It had been a while since the last time she saw a place with actual electricity, and most of the ones she had seen were completely militarized. This commune sounded too good to be true. And Charlie’d barely lasted a month, staying in one place, before he got picked out by a group of hunters. If this commune was really out there, Charlie would probably die before he could even get close...

At the very least, Ashley would let herself consider accompanying him to his destination. After all, she’d just saved him. It’d be a waste if she just left him to die now. For fuck’s sake. She couldn’t believe she was considering this… but the way he looked at her, the acceptance of death in his eyes. It sparked something within her, a protective urge, and as much as she desired to carve it out and throw it away, she couldn’t bring herself to.

Suddenly, she remembered what he’d said earlier. He was injured.

“How badly were you injured?” She asked, and Charlie took in a deep breath.

“Almost on the brink of bleeding out,” he said. “My group got attacked by a horde and I ended up trying to climb out a broken window. The glass was thicker than I thought it was and when I stumbled, it stabbed clean through my side. Barely managed to stitch it up myself with a first aid kit.”

Ashley stared at him for a brief moment before she focused her gaze forward again, keeping her eyes on where she was walking.

“Well, color me impressed,” she shrugged. “Not everyone has the balls to stitch themselves up from a wound like that. Are the stitches still in?”

“Yeah. I don’t know how long they’re supposed to be in there,” he replied and Ashley bit the corner of her lip. Damnit.

“Once I get you some food, I’ll take them out for you,” she replied. “Stitches should only be in for less than two weeks.”

Charlie was playing with his hands again as he walked beside her, keeping pace despite his weakness. “Thank you,” he said quietly, and Ashley met his blue eyes. It was getting dark enough that she wouldn’t be able to see them anymore soon…

“You’re welcome,” she said. “It’s getting dark now. Stay close, okay?”

“Okay.”

[alwaysonf1]

oopsy?

Pairing: Charles LeClerc x Hamilton!OC

Genre: Slice of Life; Fluff

Word Count: 4.4k

Warning: Canadian NHL team shit talking. Middle fingers.

Rating: PG-13

Author's Note: N/A

As much as Iman doesn’t mind and is one hundred percent on board for all the filming and hanging out with the drivers, she's happy that it’s not an every day of the week and every class kind of thing. There’s a level of mental capacity it takes to deal with the people around her while doing this that she can’t maintain every day.

But today isn’t one of those days. Today they’re at a track and that’s one of her favorite places to be no matter where it is.

NOLA Motorsports Park hasn’t seen any real IndyCar action since twenty fifteen, but it’s still a place that some teams use when they want to test and practice in a place where it wouldn’t really be expected. Though there were times they did open the public stuff and in about a month there would be a McLaren sponsored karting tournament for kids already in and new to the world of motorsport. 

Iman looks forward to that day because she enjoys helping the kids with their races and even more so helping them understand how their karts work. She was even going to be in charge of a more informational segment that she knows is going to be boring as hell, but hopefully insightful for kids and their parents.

The sport can be hard enough getting into it and she wanted to make it easier for them. Even if she felt a little like a fraud speaking as her path hasn’t really been from the ground up like half the kids there.

But at the moment what she’s most happy about is that she isn’t the one making the drive to the track. The place is over an hour from her apartment and though it rarely feels that long it’s nice to have someone else to do it. 

Though she could do without being sandwiched between her brother and her new frenemy, Lance.

“It’s a Canadian sport. And they are original, how could you dislike them? They have more championships than Seattle has in years playing. I mean I like them too, but come on, Iman.”

The entire rant is funny and it’s the same argument they’ve had twice now after he found out that she enjoys hockey. They’ve talked a little about football too, but the moment she enacted her duty of humbling a Canadian it’s been a back and forth of him being flustered over her dislike of almost all the Canadian teams in the NHL. Most of it being due to her disdain for certain players - most of which for petty reasons and some because they’re assholes.

She reaches out and pats his leg, giving him a soft and kind look that’s only playfully condescending.

“How about we pick this back up when a Canadian team breaks their thirty year streak of not winning the Stanley Cup. Something multiple players in Seattle have done in that time period.”

“You went there?”

“I went there.”

Lance huffs and puffs. He tries to say something, but every time his mouth opens he closes it again. If I didn’t notice the way he wanted to laugh and the resignation in his expression I would fear I’d genuinely offended him, but I know I hadn’t. Poor man knew it was the truth, even if it was a painful one.

“It’s their year.”

“Who’s year?”

He sighs. “I don’t know. One of them.”

“Leafs?”

At that he makes a face that can only be read as disgust.

“You’re mad at me and you don’t even like them.”

“I’m obligated.”

“I get it.”

Because she does. That conditionally and sometimes fake patriotism got the best of her too.

She opens her mouth to bring them back to common ground by shitting on Vegas, but for the tenth time there’s a pull at some strands of hair at the back of her head. Eyes narrowed she turns her head to look at her brother. Who doesn’t even bother to look away or remove his hand.

“Why?”

Lewis shrugs.

Rolling her eyes she reaches up and pulls on one of his braids, earning a swat to her hand.

“Don’t pull my hair,” he says.

“Then don’t pull mine.”

And he does it again.

Like the child she sometimes is, she goes to retaliate, but the van rolls to a stop and she settles for glaring at him.

“Ha.”

“Oh, shut up.”

With the last word she follows the others out of the van, “accidentally” kicking Lewis on her way out. By the time he’s out and able to get her back she’s already standing at the front of everyone barely suppressing a gleeful smile. He joins the group and flips her off in a covert way and she does the same.

Not them doing that on the low mattered since the cameras weren’t focused on the group yet. Every camera person is huddled together talking amongst themselves.

“Is that a McLaren indycar?” Alex asks.

“Sure is.”

Daniel raises his hand, a broad smile on his face. “Are we going to get in it?” 

“Maybe.”

That seems to shock everyone, but there is some giddiness to it. One would think that a group of men who raced for a living and who would be back to doing it in about a week wouldn’t be so eager to get into a car. But then again that’s the driving force of why some of them do it for a living.

Before anyone can say anything else Anne walks up and the camera surrounds them. Anne gestures to Iman and she takes her cue.

Iman hitches her thumb backward. “This is where I do a lot of my internship work during the school year. Though it’s not often used for pro-racing, it is used for testing. And that’s what McLaren’s Indycar team is doing here for the next month or so. And today you’ll be helping me with work. 

“All of you know there is some level of secrecy going on with this stuff, but everything you see and hear today will be things that are known to the public or that no one cares about anyone else knowing. Plus, this testing is for this past season's car, not the coming one.

“We’re going to get a tour of the place and then get to work. Any questions before we get things going?”

The group is quiet and after a few seconds Iman nods and then turns. She leads the group up to the pit lane where McLaren mechanics await them. There are greetings and then another explanation of what they’re doing there. Then they’re led off on a tour of the spaces. They field questions from the drivers and to round out the tour they end up back in front of where they started.

“Okay, so we’re trying to figure out what went wrong with this engine during one of the races this season. We had to replace the whole thing and it didn’t become a priority to take it apart and find out, so that’s what we’re doing now to see if there’s anything we need to change in the future,” the head mechanic says.

He looks around at everyone in the way one does when ensuring that they have a listening audience.

“Okay, so you’ll see what Iman and our team do to figure that out. I know this could be more exciting, but we decided this is a good glimpse to really show what she does and in a way we’re comfortable showing. You’ll pair off and our people will explain what’s going on. Feel free to ask questions and point out any oddities you see, we need all the eyes on this that we can get. It’s all preliminary, so they won’t be at it for long and then that’s where the fun begins.”

He shares a mischievous smile with Iman and by the looks of everyone it makes them a bit unsettled.

“What does that mean?” Lance asks.

Iman shrugs. “You’ll see. Now go get changed.”

They do what she says even though she could see the questions they want to ask. 

About ten minutes later everyone returns in coveralls. Iman is already dressed in the clothes she works in so she’s sitting on a rolling chair when they return.

“Ready?” she asks.

They nod.

“Okay, I’m not going to treat this like a class room so everyone in groups of two and then you’ll be with one of us.”

Much like all Iman’s years of school, all the drivers freeze. Then they all scramble toward their chosen person. Despite the small group - or because of how small it was - some end up losing out. It takes all of her not to burst into laughter when Carlos goes for Charles and Lewis snatches up the Monégasque. Which means Carlos is with Daniel. The man pouts while Daniel grins ear to ear, but you could tell it was more playful. 

Lewis and Charles laugh at their antics and Iman knows that those two groups are going to be a chaotic mess.

And because she’s so busy holding back giggles at their nonsense, she misses the chance to grab a group that doesn’t contain her brother. She knows that part of this whole thing is wanting them to be together, but she would be a bad little sister if she didn’t act indignant about it.

“I guess I’m stuck with you too,” she says, rolling her eyes.

Lewis grins. “Yes, you are. You’ll love it. Won’t she Charles?”

Both men turn their heads to face each other and they share similar grins. Then they turn to her and she sees devious intentions in their eyes. Iman feels like they’re plotting against her and she doesn’t like that.

“Of course. We are a delight,” Charles says.

Now she really knows they’re going to be a handful. Though she hopes putting them to work will help.

“Sure, you will be. How about using that delightfulness to help me disassemble this.”

She gestures to the problem engine. She’s to take care of that one while the others look at two others. Both of them cling to their little creep show and then finally nod and help her disassemble the thing. Lewis is a little competent in it because she always talked about it and forced him to learn, but Charles is a little surprising to her. But it’s nice to only have to give a little guidance and get to focus on her work.

Of course she gets so into it that she forgets that she should probably talk to them a little after Charles clears his throat. By the sounds of it he’d been trying to get her attention for a little while.

“Sorry, can you repeat that?”

“You work for McLaren?” he asks.

“This year.”

“Only this year? They seem very okay with this for such a short time.”

“Once before, but for a shorter amount of time then. I’ve done about four internships, two of them with them. One in Nascar and another for a different IndyCar team.”

“Wow, that’s a lot. How do you find the time?”

“I don’t. Just chaos twenty-four seven.” She laughs. “But to be fair, the first IndyCar was when I was a senior in high school. They were doing a program for kids of that age to get them interested and I was a test subject. Since my mother worked for them it was more likely they’d get better feedback versus the kids who might be scared saying anything could get them blacklisted.”

“Really?”

Iman smiles. “Really. There weren’t many issues and nothing major though, so it was fine.”

“No, I mean in high school?”

“Yup. It’s what happens when you tell the people in your life what you want to do for a living and they have the connections. The moment my mom knew I was serious she had me applying everywhere and brought me in to shadow her and anyone else she could have agree. I was annoying, but good enough that they didn’t tell her to stop.”

Talking with Charles is easy and the conversation is one that helps her focus on the task of disassembling the unnecessarily greasy mess that is her side of the engine. Something is peaceful about it too. Nice even.

When she looks up and past Charles to her brother Iman sees a weird expression on Lewis' face. It’s one he wears when he knows something or thinks he knows something and a weird smile. She wants to question it, but thinks better of it. Knowing Lewis it will irritate her and there is a part of her brain that is sure she knows what that look is for and she refuses to address it.

Not stepping into that shit show. Nope.

“Okay, what happened?” Lewis asks.

“It stopped the car completely and then when we went to check it there was a small-ish fire.”

“Excuse me?”

“I was the furthest from the fire, Lew.”

There’s some grumbling, but his expression and body language mellows out. Not much though. For some reason Iman looks to Charles for support, but instead she’s on the receiving end of a look that gives off mild anger and a silver of disappointment. Of course she doesn’t know Charles well enough for her to fully understand his expressions, but she’s familiar with the reactions of siblings.

Iman groans. “Oh come on. Not you too.”

“I’d be mad at my brothers for it as well,” Charles says.

Lewis fist bumps the man and they both stare Iman down as if expecting something like an apology from her. One that she isn’t willing to give, because while she gets the worry and is appreciative of it - especially when Charles barely knows her - this is her job. She’s made a career choice and these kinds of situations are the kind of shitty parts that she expects and that need to be expected. Especially from people who’ve seen their fair share of chaos and tragedy in the world of motorsport. She knows that that’s probably why they’re worse about it. But Iman also knows that there’s something more to it.

Instead of indulging them she rolls her eyes and focuses on the engine. They join in after a couple seconds and she guides them through it, telling them the running theory on what they think caused the fire and answering the questions they have about all the ways their hypothesis could be true.

The help feels nice. They don’t slow her down at all and even if they did she realizes that she wouldn’t mind it. Their interest makes it enjoyable.

By the time they finish they’ve mostly ruled out what it wasn’t but have no confirmation on if what McLarens mechanics think went wrong did. It’s frustrating, but Iman knew enough about the job to know that eliminating possibilities was sometimes better than finding the answer right away. In this case it meant she could catch anything that was also an issue, but didn’t get its chance to show out. And there were at least two of those issues she had to document.

Iman follows the other mechanics to give a report and compare notes and she returns changed into clothes she brought with her. When she emerges on the track the drivers are also back in their clothes and standing in front of some of the newest cars from their respective brands or the creators of the engines their F1 car uses.

Lance is looking at her with a raised brow as she enters their field of view and the others appear curious.

“What’s happening here?” Daniel asks, though with how giddy he is Iman knows he knows.

“Friendly race.”

As if they weren’t professional drivers that did this multiple times a year an electric kind of excitement filled the circle. It’s classic teenage boy behavior as they nudge each other and talk shit.

Anne steps in and grabs everyone’s attention.

“We’re going to have a friendly race. Everyone will be paired up and though there is only one tandem here, you can’t be paired with your teammate.” There is some groaning from the Ferrari boys. “And, because we have a McLaren IndyCar driver here waiting around, Pato O’Ward, will be joining in on the fun.”

Pato appears the moment his name is mentioned. He wears a wide smile and shyly waves to the group.

“Hey, guys. Hope you don’t mind me crashing this.”

“Dibs!” Daniel yells.

Everyone startles, but then it’s a bunch of eye rolling and some bashfulness from Pato.

“That’s fine, Daniel. I was going to choose who gets who, but it's free for all. So pick yo…”

Before Anne can finish what she’s saying everyone scrambles and Iman crosses paths with Lewis. She knocks into him, sending him a little off kilter and with enough force that he ends up next to Carlos and her next to Charles. 

“Hey!” he shouts.

Iman waves. “Hi.”

“You know what.. How dare… Why?”

“I haven’t caused you suffering in a while, which I’m obligated as a little sister to do. Also I’ve driven many Mercedes. I want to try out a Ferrari. Plus, even if I didn’t go for Charles the odds of me reaching Carlos before Lance chooses between him and Albon were low. Shit end of the stick, Lew.”

Everyone laughs as they watch a series of emotions play on the man’s face. He huffs and puffs as he tries to find the words.

Realization dawns on Lewis’ face.

“Wait. No. You’re not racing. You can’t… This isn’t… No.”

Every sentence he starts is clearly going to lead to the interaction turning from funny to a little more serious, so Iman lets him work through finding his words.

“Then you shouldn’t have taught me how. I’m not the one who got grounded at his big age for letting me race a car by a woman who is not their mother.”

Alex snickers. “Wait. He did?”

“Yup. Of course she couldn’t make it stick, but she was trying hard to figure out all the ways she could.”

Lewis winces, probably remembering it. Then he rolls his eyes and sulks. “Fine.”

With a much gentler smile Iman walks over and places a kiss on Lewis’ cheek and ruffles his braids, then retakes her spot next to Charles. Though he fights against it she watches the sulking stop

“Okay, just don’t cry to her or dad when I kick your ass.”

“Bring it.”

Anne retakes control of the conversation and directs everyone to their cars. They’re all given helmets, because this is hot lap adjacent. 

“Everyone will get one lap, then you’ll swap. This is about speed and I know that every one of you is capable of doing this in this type of vehicle, but I’m reminding you all to be safe. Nothing crazy unless you’re sure you can execute it without risk to yourself and everyone else. Got it?”

There’s a chorus of agreement.

They all discuss who is going first, but Iman just directs Charles to the driver’s side. He looks at her with a brow raised in question, but then he follows her gaze and sees that Carlos is taking this lap. He smiles and nods.

Once in the car they strap in and Charles takes a few deep breaths. They’re given the signal to get into place and they get into a formation that works for them. Charles looks at her, a smirk on his lips that is equal parts cocky and confident.

“Ready?”

“Yes, I am.”

He extends his arm, his hand in a fist. Iman bumps it without question. Then they both turn forward and wait for the go ahead.

Despite seeing it at the same time as Charles and preparing herself, Iman's heart drops to her ass once he hits the gas. It takes a few seconds for her to chill out and by then they’re on the first turn. 

Charles drives seamlessly and despite the blur of their surroundings Iman doesn't feel like she’s going terribly fast. Then a Mercedes sails by and then another. Without having to think about what’s happening. He is pushing it, but he’s holding back. 

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t let loose Charlie.”

He barely glances at her, probably to gauge if she means it, and then he pushes it. In about ten seconds he’s passed one of the cars in front of them and is fighting off the other. The others behind them catch up and it’s a battle back there, but it’s irrelevant to the one in front of them.

At every instance he tries to get around the Mercedes she knows Carlos is driving, but despite almost getting past he misses the mark by half a second. Before they know it they’re crossing the finish line barely behind the Mercedes. There’s a three way tie for the others about two seconds later.

And then everyone exits their cars. There’s some bragging and arguing. As Charles and Iman change sides he lightly bumps into Carlos with a frown on his face. He’s trying to seem upset, but the smile he’s wearing is wide.

“What about being comrades?” Charles jokes.

Carlos laughs. “Not here.”

Iman slides into the driver’s seat and takes a few deep breaths as her fingers trace the steering wheel. Nerves creep in, but they leave her the moment she feels a hand on her shoulder. She turns to see Charles looking at her with a bit of concern.

“Are you okay?”

“A little bit of nerves. Nothing I won’t shake as I put them behind us.”

That brings back the smirk that he wore when he was behind the wheel. There was obviously going to be some uncertainty about her being the only non-driver in the race, but as she smiles back at Charles she realizes he didn’t bring that up or seem bothered when she snatched him up from someone who he’d seen do this for a living. It was a nice reassurance. Even if she knew damn well she could hang with the big boys. At least in this kind of situation, behind an F1 car was another thing entirely.

A muffled shout interrupts the moment and Charles puts down his window, revealing Lewis with his own down. He’s smiling, but it’s that stupid lazy one he puts on when he’s feeling himself. 

Annoying man.

“Ready to lose, Immy?”

Of course he uses that nickname while being annoying.

“You should be asking yourself that, LuLu.”

“Well, I am a seven time…”

Iman flips him off and he shuts up, looking appalled. Charles puts the window back up while laughing, but she catches Lewis’ returning the gesture.

Again Charles reaches out and they bump fists. Then it’s lights out and away they go.

In comparison Iman’s take off is delayed, but despite the few inches everyone has in front of her when she does get going, she closes and surpasses it. She puts her speed over one hundred and keeps it there on the first turn. Lewis pulls ahead and so does Lance, but she manages to evade being boxed out and puts a little over a second between them. 

The next turn has her losing speed a little, but she regains it and keeps herself next to Lance and Daniel for the straight and then on the next turn, she guns it. With ease she ends up in front of Lance and then she’s next to the Mercedes. Lewis increases speed, but it doesn’t beat her out. In the final turn she does what she did in the last one and pushes the car to its limits. The last few feet before the end of the track are a close race, but at the last second she pushes further.

With her speed the car goes past the finish, but it’s a second or two before her brother crosses the line. Everyone else trails by a second or more and then they all leave the car. Iman is shaking from the speed and the excitement. Charles rushes over and pulls her into a hug she happily returns. 

“That was great. No, excellent. You crushed it,” Charles says.

“Thank you.”

There’s some shit talking, but they all praise her.

Lewis is pouting, but it’s not fooling her at all. He’s the last to pull her into a hug and it’s tight. 

“You did fucking phenomenal, Immy. I didn’t expect that. You blew away all expectations,” he says.

As he pulls away he kisses the top of her head and refuses to let her go. Pride shines on his face and she feels even more proud of herself. She feels like she’s the shit. There are no delusions of grandeur on the level they’re at, but she beat multiple professional racers at something adjacent to their own game and that’s good enough.

“I did learn some things from the best,” she says.

He laughs, throwing his head back a little and then pulls her into another hug. They pull away and Pato walks up, patting her arm.

“Maybe you should be in Nascar, that was better than your IndyCar test,” Pato says.

“Her what? You’re what?” Lewis moves so fast to look at Pato and Iman that he should have whiplash.

“Uh…”

Pato winces. “Was that supposed to be a secret?”

“Iman Marie Hamilton. You’re what?”

He moves toward her just as she ducks behind Charles. With how serious - but not in a bodily harm way - he looks she’s sure Charles is going to move out of her brother’s war path, but he reaches a hand around and takes hold of her shirt. As Lewis tries to get around him he moves with her, using the shirt to leverage her.

“Maybe we should forget this and go to dinner.”

Sweet Charles is trying to de-escalate, but it’s not working and that’s in part because he can’t stop himself from giggling. Which turns Lewis ire from just  Iman to both of them.

“LeClerc. Is this the war you want?”

Everyone holds their breath and seconds tick by.

“Yes.”

And without a word Iman breaks into a sprint with Charles following suit. Carlos has chosen Lewis' side so he goes for his teammate. Pato and Lance run interference for Iman while Alex and Daniel join in the sport of being the first to get to Charles. It’s chaos and it dissolves into laughter and labored breathing so quickly. Yet none of them stop.

You’d think they were all a bunch of children and not very much grown adults. But it’s so funny that Anne puts the camera people to work chasing them down for all the actions.

[janicekao]

Your Choice (bwam)

Pairing:Gong Yoo x Black OC (dark smut) Summary: Based off of the details in season two of the series "Squid Game." Bella Haven,a fellow gambling addict, close friend, and neighbor to Gi-hun helps with tracking down the recruiter who once played Ddakji with Gi-hun many years ago. That one game of Ddakji changed his life for the worse and ultimately sent him to the Squid Game after receiving a business card that starts it all. When Bella finally catches the recruiter for her friend, she gets caught up in a gamble like none other... far from a game of Ddakji. Warnings:age gap, bdsm, weapons, violence, r0ugh s3x, smut, gambling, mental illness, fanfic, dubc0n, etc.

6367 words Wattpad link Enjoy my babies <3 -------------------------------------

"The recruiter is six feet three inches tall." Bella Haven seems to have a knack for making odd friends. She sits on the floor of her friend Seong Gi-hun's apartment as they share two piping hot ramyeons. Gi-hun being twenty-six years her senior, activates his fatherly instincts as he lets Bella get full off of the majority of the rice cake and shrimp that they share. She reminds him of his daughter that he hasn't seen in years, both smart and beautiful girls... surely Bella can help him with this problem that he's been having, he could really use her craftiness.

Gi-hun continues as Bella listens in while slurping back noodles. "The man I need you to look for wears expensive suits with his hair neatly pomaded back into a style. But what stands out about him the most is his actions. He carries a briefcase of money and asks people to play Ddakji with him. The whole game is a gamble, if you lose, he slaps the taste out of your mouth... if you win he'll begin to hand out money. He preys on the poor, the citizens in debt! People who will foolishly continue to play with him. At one time in my life, I was one of those people."

"Sweetie, I don't think you're listening to me." He pouts. "This man hands out a card that entraps people in the Squid Game after calling the number on it. Out of 456 players I was the only one who made it out alive, Bella if I don't find this man, he will do it again. The recruiter will continue to give innocent people this card and usher them into the games where they have no idea that their life is at stake! Bella please!"

"Gi-hun, I hear you." She sighs with slight defiance.

Insanely worried about the mental health of her friend and neighbor, Bella hates when Gi-hun talks about his time at what she believes was a mythical place where the in-debt citizens of South Korea risk their lives playing deadly children games to get a large lump-sum of cash. If he were the winner, and the only one who made it out alive, where is his huge stack of money? "I just don't understand what I have to do with this? I mean really, what can I do? Aren't you paying some of Seoul's biggest gangsters a lot of won to find this man at the subway station? If they can't do it, what makes you think that I can?"

"Because Bella..." He insists. "I still remember what happened with that American fiancé of yours. When he was stationed here in Korea and the asshole tried to leave you. He tried to take the money you both saved up together and go back to the States without you. I don't mean to bring up old dirt my dear, but the way you tracked him down in days before he could even book a flight, that's the kind of person I need on this."

The memory of being nearly left at the altar three years ago makes her cringe. But he's right, Bella has the unnecessary skill for tracking.

Taking a pause on their meal, she sighs. "Fine... So I'll go look for the tall handsome guy playing Ddakji at the train station and slapping people around, happy?"

"You're the best." Gi-hun finally smiles. "You find him, and I'll have a hundred-thousand won waiting for you."

She immediately refuses it. "Not necessary, keep your money, that's what friends are for."

Gi-hun nods with a warmed heart. "Right, friends."

"But you can pay me in that last rice cake however." Already nearly swallowing the rice cake whole, she doesn't await an answer. Watching the cute twenty-six year old with full cheeks of rice cake makes Gi-hun chuckle.

...

"Bella?" He asks, suddenly becoming curious. "I'm glad you stayed in Korea, but can I ask why you never went back home to America?"

Bella ponders for an answer... Truthfully, why would she want to go back to the States where the men are spineless and her family hasn't reached out to her in years? Most of all, how would she even get there? Her money has gotten low and having the same addiction to gambling as Gi-hun does, really doesn't help with the fee of a plane ticket... Honestly, for the meantime it might just be best for Bella to stay exactly where she is— keeping an apartment with low rent and a decent landlord, and surrounded by people that actually care for her.

Finally she shrugs. "Go back to America? Have you seen the president they elected? I think I'm fine right here in Seoul."

———

A week of time passes and with Bella's incredible luck and skill she finds a man who fits Gi-hun's description of the recruiter just right. At first she wasn't sure if it were the man he was looking for... Do you know how many men wear nice suits and carry a briefcase in Seoul? A lot. But it was the man's actions that lead her to believe that he was exactly who she was looking for.

As Bella trails him, the man stops at a local bakery where he makes a purchase of a hundred pieces of bread and a hundred lottery tickets.

He walks to the nearest park with pride and an uneasy smile on his face as he presents the homeless people who live in squalor there the choice of choosing bread that they are starving for, or a lottery ticket...

A gamble, a game.

The impoverished dumbly all choose the lottery ticket instead of feeding themselves today. And when they are given a coin to scratch the ticket, to no surprise they all are duds, no winners at all.

Although Gi-hun and Bella are both a victim to the greed of money and gambling, seeing starving people choose a lottery ticket over food that they need really shows how bad the hidden side of poverty in Korea has gotten.

After the homeless have made their choices, the recruiter does the unthinkable. With bags still loaded and full of bread, he pours it onto the concrete and stomps the pastries to absolute mush.

The hungry onlookers watch in disbelief, but who is there to blame when they chose the lottery ticket instead.

As the recruiter slicks back his hair, taking himself out of the wild outburst, Bella realizes how psychotic he really is. The man seems to be proud of himself. Having enjoyed teaching people a lesson and forcing them into difficult choices.

He laughs... he's excited, maybe even aroused.

Bella thought that the man she is spying on couldn't be crazier, but after a few more hours of researching him, he surely proves her wrong.

After the incident at the park, Bella continues to follow carefully after the man when she recognizes a familiar face that sneaks behind him. One of the gangsters. She recognizes the man as one of the gangsters Gi-hun also hired to help look for this man. But the recruiter isn't pleased by their company. Unimpressed with being followed around, he attacks the gangster, leaving him limping and bruised by the brutal beating of his briefcase...

Bella knows now that coming into the man's space isn't the best idea and she decides to give Gi-hun a call about the good news... Even though the man is dangerous, at least they have finally found him.

During the call, Gi-hun clearly worries about Bella's safety. "Don't approach him!" He warns. "I'm on my way, just stay on his tail but stay hidden!"

And so she does. Bella keeps her distance as she follows the man to his next destination, and sure enough he enters the subway station offering the poor and vulnerable a game of Ddakji.

From a distance, she watches the recruiter play this game one after the other. People continue to play the game and accept his slaps each time that they lose, all in hopes of winning a hundred-thousand won in the next round... After a while of watching from a far, it gets to be too much for Bella. She can't stand to watch him take advantage of another financially irresponsible person again! Clearly these people need help! Not to be assaulted and humiliated for their greed of money.

She takes Gi-hun's advice with a grain of salt, soon ignoring his pleads for her safety and approaching the man after all.

"Hey! You!" Bella's blood warms to a near boil off of her courage alone. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Finally crossing the train track and entering the platform on his side, she soon realizes that the man is much taller than she expected... finding herself cranking her neck upwards to try and talk 'down' on him.

"Me?" He asks sarcastically. "Just playing some Ddakji."

She scoffs. Bella looks towards the slapped-red faced gambling victim and tells him to scram. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself you know." Her scorning continues, "how dare you take advantage of people in a bad situation!?"

"It's you." His head cocks to the side as he finally recognizes her. "Yeah, you've been the one trailing me, haven't you?"

Never having made eye contact with the man the entire time she spied on him, she isn't sure how he knows exactly what she has been up to... a lie spills from her tongue. "I-I don't know what you're talking about."

He gently chuckles at her terrible fibbing. "Is there something that you want? Who has you spying on me?"

"What you do is no secret." Bella snaps in a hushed tone to keep from onlookers. "I know about the Squid Game. Gi-hun told me—"

"Ahhh..." He coos in interruption. "Player 456."

Damn it... Maybe great at tracking someone down, but holding her tongue? Not as much.

"How old are you?" The recruiter asks.

She gulps. "Twenty-six."

He bites his lip at the unsure thought of their near twenty year age gap, however Bella's spunk and eye candy appearance surely is amusing. "I'm glad to see Player 456 is spending his earnings well." The man instantly assumes that Bella is paid for... Gi-hun's play toy that is.

Offended is an understatement. "Excuse me?"

He snickers. "Well how else would you know Gi-hun? He's twice your age."

"He's my friend asshole!" Bella scoffs. "Which is why I know everything about you... and your employer too!"

"Oh do you now?" The man questions. "And you actually trust everything your friend has told you?"

...

For years now Bella has thought Gi-hun's talk about the Squid Game were only a crazy delusion of his... But still she rather trust her friend than this lunatic that she has witnessed today. "Without a doubt in my mind. He's on his way here by the way, he needs to speak with you. I want you to stop your running and listen to what he has to say. A meeting with you has been on his mind for a long time now."

"I'll meet with him." The recruiter agrees. "What's better than seeing an old friend again. But first, would you like to play a game with me?"

"I've sat here watching you play this same game over and over again with people... No thanks, I'd rather not be slapped and humiliated." Her tone comes out harsh, just as she means it.

"Slap you?" Diamonds glimmer from his expensive watch as he lifts his hand to Bella's face, lightly caressing her cheek and tucking her fro behind her ear. "A face this pretty? Never."

The compliment was unexpected and Bella blushes red hot. 'Games' she tells herself. 'Don't let him get to you, all he plays are games.'

"Not even an attempt at a hundred-thousand won?" He opens his briefcase to the sight of money, trying his hardest to convince the girl with hopes that she too is a gambling addict.. Little does he know, Bella is.

She licks her lips at the sight of the money thinking that maybe one game wouldn't hurt. With an unhealthy love for lottery and games, she finds it impossible to say no. However she still knows his ploys and tactics. "Fine I'll play, but I don't want a card to the Squid Game. I know all about it, I'd never go."

As Bella reaches for the Ddakji pieces, he instantly refuses her. "No Squid Game, just a night with me."

He doesn't want to play Ddakji, this causes Bella utmost confusion. "A night of what?"

"A night of more games." He persuades with a handsome smile. "So, what do you say?"

———

The Pink Hotel.

One of Seoul's oldest and most well known hotels although currently it's closed and going through renovation.

"Here is fine." The recruiter insists.

Bella looks around at the street becoming uncomfortably empty now that night is falling. "Here? Isn't this place closed?"

"I have a room." He begins to cross the street. "Are you coming?"

...

She'd be such a fool to go into this building with a man who's done the most atrocious things today... From assaulting people, to belittling them... What could he have planned for her?

Rain begins to fall, soaking Bella and her rags of clothes as she stands with a stranger on a corner of a strange street. "You'll get sick out here, the rain is ice cold. What are you waiting for?"

"Maybe we should go back, Gi-hun expects you and I to be at the station still..." As rain pounds them, Bella raises her soft voice to be heard over the sound of the rain's drum.

"I've told you once before, if Gi-hun would like a word, I'll be sure to come to him. We can go back after this storm." The man uses his sly tactics to get Bella exactly where he wants her. "Sorry, I just thought you'd want the chance to make a few hundred-thousand won."

"A few?" Mind back on money, she doesn't think straight any longer. "I thought I'd earn only one hundred-thousand if I won... I'm a few million won in debt, so what are you saying? I could actually earn more?"

His slick hair with partnered raindrops drips and compliments his chiseled jaw. Instead of answering, another handsome-toothy chuckle escapes the depths of his baritoned voice. He continues towards the hotel, and instead of staying out in the cold becoming drenched by rain, Bella follows right behind him.

The two enter the hotel and just as Bella thought, the building is clearly under reconstruction. The place is absolutely empty tonight with not even an employee behind the lobby's desk.

Together they enter a sketchy elevator, taking an awkward and quiet ride to the fourth floor. At their stop, Bella follows behind the man as she tries her best to keep up with his steady stride and long legs. He uses a key to unlock the room's door and as they enter, Bella doesn't realize that he locks the door behind them.

"Can I get you anything?" He asks. "Water, Soju maybe?"

"No thanks... I'm fine." Bella takes notice to the stale smell of the old room. Although it's not exactly warm and polished, it still very clearly untouched. Is this really his room? Or is it also the first time he's been here himself? "So what's your name? What do I call you?"

"Hmm." He ponders slightly as he pulls a chair out at a small circle table for Bella to sit in, and soon sits in one across from her. "Call me whatever you and Player 456 have been calling me."

"Fine." Bella shrugs. "The salesman, the recruiter, the devil..."

He chuckles. "Then that'll do just fine. Let's play."

Bella awaits their game of Ddakji, however the recruiter has something else in mind as a gun is suddenly pointed at her.

Her first response is to immediately jump up from her chair.

"Sit down." His voice, a usually calm and collected tone has quickly become a demanding threat.

Afraid of being shot, Bella slowly lows her body back into the chair. Tears stain her cheeks and frustration clouds her head. She's just as bad as the rest of his victims today... Just as naive and money hungry, and now look what has happened.

The recruiter stands from his chair and loads his gun with one bullet. "The game is Russian Roulette." He begins. "My revolver holds six bullets, yet I've only filled one round. I'll spin in it, and the both of us are clueless to where it landed yet we have equal chances of being shot. Shall we begin?"

"The fuck?" Bella fumes. "I thought we'd spend the night putting money down on a card game o-or having the loser take shots of soju if they lose in Ddakji."

"Child's play." He shrugs.

"Fuck you, I won't play." She snatches her teary eye contact from him and it injures his heart.

For her, he'll even switch up the rules a little. "Fine, I won't be so rough on you. I'll allow you to skip your turn, by doing this enough, you'll never have the trigger pulled on you... you would end up winning. You could have the entire million won in my briefcase right now and it would be rightfully yours."

A million won? If Bella had a million won, she'd finally be out of debt.

Seeing that she's already here and in his possession, she pokes at seeing exactly what she'll have to do for it.. "What do I have to do to skip my turn?"

"Endure the gun." The recruiter states clearly. "...Between your legs that is."

...

She nearly chokes.

Did he really just ask that?

"You're sick." Teeth gritted together, Bella could absolutely spit on the lunatic for asking something as vile as that.

Onto his knees, the man nearly begs for her participation. His voice begins to tremble with desperate need and desire. "Five million won?"

Her eyes widen into dollar signs. Five million won? It would pay her debt, her bills, and keep money in her pocket.

Five million won to play this game, and risk getting shot, or to just go and fuck his gun.

After taking it into consideration, Bella decides to go for it and when the night ends, she'll place this evening behind her and live a wealthy life with an erased memory of it.

Standing from her chair, the recruiter watches the trembling young minx lower her denim shorts along with her lace panties— sitting back into her chair with the bottom half of her body completely bare.

He catches a glimpse of her womanhood below, nearly salivating and drawing his eyebrow up in tempted curiosity.

"So let's play." Back into his own chair, the man points the gun at Bella's chest and pulls the trigger.

The gun clicks... no bullet.

With a heart beating out of her chest, Bella screams bloody murder. How could he!? How could he pull the trigger on her without even giving her the choice!? "WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!?"

"I knew you were lucky." He states calmly. "There wasn't anything to worry about. Now we are down to the probability of two out of six. My turn."

The recruiter comes across the table, not even an inch from Bella's face as she watches in horror. Her nostrils fill with his handsome cologne and the sight of stained blood on his cheek from beating up the gangster earlier becomes even more prevalent.

The man refuses to break eye contact as he opens his mouth and deep throat's the barrel of his gun.

So close to this man that if the bullet decided to land this round, his brains would absolutely drench her. "Please don't." She begs.

He does it anyways.

Click... no bullet.

He chuckles... a laugh that is overly maniacal. "Your turn again, what will you choose?"

He begins to tease her. "You see, it really isn't all that difficult."

Bella gulps.

Knowing that she isn't about to aim this gun at her head, she trembles as she slowly widens her legs.

"Ahhh I see..." He groans in clear utter excitement.

The recruiter walks in her direction and eases his free hand into her lap. She watches the large palm with handsomely long fingers ease between her thighs, biting her lip at the infatuation of how a man's veiny hand looks paired with an expensive watch on his wrist between her legs.

His two most middle fingers invite themselves to her cunt. Circling softly and bringing her to quiet moans. Bella grabs his wrist. "What are you doing to me?"

"Shhh." He hushes. "You wouldn't want this to enter you, unwarmed, now would you?"

Bella pushes his hand away. "I can do it myself."

Her defiance is breathtaking. His infatuation with her grows to an astonishing high. "Then maybe I'll just help from behind."

As Bella leans back and widens her thighs for better access to playtime within her folds, the man watches from behind her and begins to assist.

His freehand slides down the front of her blouse, touching at her breasts and slowly teasing her hardened buds. As Bella plays with herself, her eyes loll closed from the high adrenaline of her two most favorite things, sex and a gamble.

The recruiter begins to slowly kiss her cheek, whispering lewd nothings in her ear as his lips trace her curly sideburns and edges. "Isn't this fun?" His strong grasp chokes her throat and causes Bella to moan out loud. "And don't tell me it's not, I hear the stirring of your cunt as if you were cooking sticky ramyeon. You fucking love this don't you?"

Beginning to notice her uncomfortable stirring in her seat, the recruiter refuses her orgasm unless it's on the tip of his weapon. Interrupting her masturbation, the man steps between Bella and the table, hiking her legs around his waist as Bella gasps and watches above her.

Her legs are spread wide around his large frame and shame fills her as she fails at an attempt to close them. "No, please."

"Shut up." The barrel breaches her entry causing Bella's back to arch from the chair. The metal is cold, unrealistically hard, and slightly sharp in some areas. But it's all part of their agreement.

He fucks her with it. Forcing at least four inches of cold steel in her each pump so he can find his satisfaction at the slight tug of her snugness around his barrel.

Her breathing is so rapid, she can't take her eyes off of what he's doing to her. Never in her life has she been fucked by anything but a cock or a vibrator, but tonight she watches an actual revolver pump into her as if the gun were to breed her with bullets.

"God!" She weeps from his brutish behavior. "S-Slow down!"

The recruiter grins. Although his wrist is becoming tired, the last thing he'll do is slow down. His eyes glue on the sight of pretty brown pussy soaking his gun and fingertips as it reddens each time he thrusts inside her. His jaw falls open and quickly tightens clenched shut as his erection against his dress slacks aches him like nothing before.

"Nuh-mmm!" Bella tries to refuse it and shout out 'no' but feeling so full has never felt better, instead of her refusal, a moan of clear thrill and discomfort fills the room, however the web of arousal soaking the black metal says otherwise about her enjoyment.

Feeling her climax beginning to fall over the edge, Bella grabs his wrist to end her torture.

"I wouldn't do that." He warns, sweating and brain short-circuiting with how turned on he is. "One little slip and I could pull this trigger, if you're not lucky this third time around, it could be you having a hot bullet soaring through your insides and splitting you in half."

She can't believe the thrill that trembles through his voice. He's loving every second of this.

Watching up at the older gentleman who has started to lose himself— sweating his pomade out and panting in desperation. Bella's eyes widen into fear and disbelief. "You—You frighten me."

He catches Bella by her throat, lifting her from her seat and into his gaze. The pumping of the gun as if it were a dildo quickens and roughens into deeper blows as she dangles in front of him. "And isn't being frightened absolutely exhilarating?"

He catches her gasps for air with his tongue kiss. He kisses her so well, Bella jolts feeling as if she is being fucked in a second place.

Pulling from the kiss he's given, the man notices his gun finding a harder time fucking her as Bella's hips buck and her walls tighten around it. She makes a strangled noise as her soul ascends, orgasming and falling limp into the recruiter's chest. It was never the steel of the gun that got her there... it was who was conducting it.

"You are just so pretty aren't you?" His grin is everlasting as he holds up his play toy of the night in his arms. For a taste of her fear and exhilaration, he licks a salty tear from her cheek. "Gripping this gun like you should, you might just be my best girl. Hm?"

Dumbfounded, sore, and fucked out, Bella nods with half-lidded eyes. Her legs are no good, trembling like a baby deer as she is placed back in her seat.

The recruiter wipes his weapon with his suit's handkerchief, soon wiping his own shot of cum as he reaches down his belt to adjust the erection that has been plaguing him for the last half hour.

"If you want to fuck me, you should've just lead with that." She watched his indecent adjustments. Bella catches her breath, biting the inside of her cheek as her nostrils flare with anger and hatred for the man.

"That would be nice, yes, but I want your fear and desperation just as much." He swipes his hair backwards and back into place, shooting Bella's round at the ceiling to find out it was just another empty shot and her time of being fucked by a weapon was for absolutely nothing. This alone makes him chuckle as Bella falls into even more disgust with herself. "It's all about the choices we make, isn't it sweetheart?"

He sighs with the gun to his head. "Well, I guess it's my turn again."

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The recruiter falls back into his chair as if he were drunk, maybe high off their kinky sex. He aims the gun at his skull and crosses the table back closely into her face. He begins to shake maniacally. The fourth shot. The probability of getting the bullet is much higher than it ever has been now. He knows the risks, however he's crazy and doesn't exactly give an entire fuck.

The fourth shot clicks, firing no bullet.

He takes a deep breath, nearly moaning as he sighs in relief.

It's time for the fifth shot... Bella's turn again.

So eager for another round of fucking her with his gun, it's clear that he's excited to pull the trigger and waste her shot on the ceiling so they can begin their fun again... But to his surprise, Bella has had a change of heart.

Embarrassment has eaten away at her during his turn. Twenty-six and living a life of gambling and debt so bad that tonight it's gotten to the point of allowing a strange man to fuck her with his weapon.

"Shoot it." Nearly suicidal and over this game of Russian Roulette, Bella hopes that the gun goes off.

...

"What?" His expression has changed to fear and worry. He attempts to keep up with his poker face, but he doesn't actually want to fire the gun worried that it could be the shot that kills her. This alone makes him angry. No one has ever made him come out of his character, never in his life has he second guessed a decision during a gamble.

"Sorry." She tilts her head in curious sarcasm. "Were you enjoying yourself too much when I'd skip my turn instead?"

He scoffs with a light chuckle, frustrated yet intrigued about her sass and defiance.

"This is stupid." He refuses. "Don't make me do this."

The recruiter's hand begins to tremble as the gun points in her direction.

She ignores him. Bella clutches her eyes tightly shut and awaits her last fifty-fifty chance. "Shoot it."

It pains him to pull the trigger without a clue if this could be the last time he ever lays eyes on the girl he has become infatuated with, but being that he is an employee of the Squid Game... no game should ever go unfinished.

The recruiter pulls the trigger...

They both sigh in relief being that the gun didn't go off. However, that only means one thing. The bullet is in the last round, and it's also his turn.

Beaten at his own game. How embarrassing, yet how impressive.

He begins. "The last shot... this bullet is going to kill me."

...

Bella refuses it. She doesn't want to see anyone die, she just wants it all to end. "Don't do it."

"You win." His smile now seems more like a goodbye instead of his mischievous smirk. "It's been a pleasure playing with you. I'd like to admit to having had one of the best evenings of my forty-five years of life with you tonight. I have found you to be incredibly delightful, it is sad that our time has come to its end. Call it a crush if you will."

"I don't even know your name!" Bella exclaims, trying her best to buy time. "You don't even know mine!"

"The code to my briefcase is four zeros." The recruiter ignores her. "Goodbye now."

The raised gun to his temple makes Bella panic.

He can't... She won't allow it.

With his finger on the trigger, Bella takes the opportunity to flip the table and smack the gun out of his hand as the shot fires. Bella and the recruiter watch the bullet shatter the hotel's glass mirror as the smell of both of their fright fills the entire room.

...

Able to breathe again, Bella realizes that it's finally over. No care for the money or there being a winner in the end, it's finally just over.

It's done and no one is dead. As Bella takes a moment of air to realize this happy ending, the recruiter quietly takes in her image instead.

In his line of work, there aren't happy endings. They usually end in a selfish moment with opponents who would have gladly taken his life for the briefcase full of money... but not her. Not Bella.

Without a selfish bone in her body, he watches the beauty who put his life before the money that she needs and he's never desired anything more than her. "I want your name."

Finally taking her eyes from the shattered glass mirror, she turns towards the recruiter in curiosity. "What? Oh— it's, Bella."

"Bella." He repeats with eyes swelling into full beating hearts. "Bella, Bella, Bella."He presses his lips to her neck with a gentle kiss. The most gentle and stable he's been all night.

The man lifts Bella's top from over her head, leaving her completely bare in his presence. His touch is soft as he pulls her closer to him with earth-shattering kisses against her lips, Bella accepts them without any hassle. He begins to strip out of his clothes, revealing a handsomely toned body with an enticingly long erection pressed against her belly. In the very moment, actions become much more important than words. The recruiter cherishes her body like gold, thanking her with heaven like caresses and gratitude. Their lips unlock for only a moment in time, as the man lifts her and places Bella gently on the bed, he licks his middle most fingers and slowly brings her back into heated passion with his gentle petting.

Biting her lip so hard that she tastes faint blood, Bella arches her back as the fingering collides with his tongue. Groaning in her pussy the man reacts to her taste as if he were starved. His breath and lapping tongue on her pearl brings her to hysterics. Wanting only to cum this next time on his cock, Bella's fingers dive deeply into his jet black hair as she slowly guides him towards her face with a hair pull. Together they share Bella's taste within their kiss and Bella widens her thighs, stretching open with need to feel his penetration.

Her hands reach down his washboard chiseled abdomen until her palm is wrapped around his rod directing him into her entrance. As his cockhead breaches her, the recruiter's jaw laxes into an opened drop. "Fuck..." He dissolves into pleasure as his most sensitive body part weakens him. The tip of his cock is no match for how well Bella is soon to make him feel.

Plummeting inside her cunt for a first stroke tightens his muscles as he begins to buck his hips upward, sleeving himself in the tightness of her heat. Bella wraps her arms around his neck as she quiets her own hushed sobs of pleasure.

His strokes are absent-minded power drives. Enamored and rushed with the feeling of perfect sex as he already wishes to relive this moment every day for the rest of his life. The recruiter takes a firm hold of Bella's ankle and places it over his shoulder, nailing her to the mattress as his cockhead continuously kisses at her cervix.

"Sweet baby." He complains. "God, I'm so close." Bella's purrs are throaty and weak, a spring in her core tightens and nears its release each time he makes a complaint— a beg from a fully grown man, like music to her ears.

"Faster, cum for me." Feeling his cock quake and pulse makes her world stutter on its axis, Bella explodes into oblivion. Moaning as a gasp of air drains her of all energy. Covered in her nectar, his cock even glistens in the moonlight. He pulls out once more and rams his erection inside for a finale. Her pussy spoils him with a lewdly tight hug and begins to drain him of cum, he pulls out a second too late, feverish and skyrocketing a design of his jizz from her cunt towards her belly button. A failed attempt, being that Bella's sex blew his mind and silenced the room into nothing but blank white noise.

A moment to stare at his mess nearly makes him dizzy. Not a day of work goes by ever this phenomenally. In this very bed, a deliciously gorgeous young woman continues to moan for more of him with his semen already trailing down her skin...

His Ddakji duties at the subway will just have to wait another night. Tonight the world has completely stopped, and well, the Squid Game will just have to wait.

The recruiter lifts the comforter over his head as he lays on top of a hypnotizing giggly Bella and swallowing her whole. Their bodies intwine beneath the covers and as Bella arches her back again for his taking, the recruiter realizes that the night is still young, extremely far, from being over.

———

Morning light wakes the two through the blinds of the hotel room's windows. Both too afraid to look at their phones knowing that Bella's will be filled with calls and messages from Gi-hun and the recruiter's will be full of his employer having long awaited for an update by now... they decide to just dress instead.

The tension is awkward. They are both sure they'll never experience a night like that again in their entire lives... but Bella is even a bit sad from the lack of eye contact and communication. After a night of being a man's toaster strudel and repetitively receiving his icing, makes it feel a bit impossible to just become strangers again.

Although silent, the recruiter still acts as a gentleman although he has now returned to his business like ways. He holds the door for Bella and even assisted in dressing her, however he can't bring himself to look at her in the eyes from the fear of wanting something that he knows in his line of work he can't have... a companion.

Out of the vintage hotel and back on the streets, the two begin to part ways... but the recruiter can't bring himself to do it. "Before you leave, I believe you still deserve the money you won from our game of Russian Roulette last night." He craves one more conversation from her, even if it means giving her everything that he has in his briefcase.

Hearing his voice is nice, but to Bella it's also a bit heartbreaking and bittersweet. He seems to be strictly back to business with no regard of what happened last night. "Double it and give it to the next person." She shrugs, voice cutely hoarse from a night of shouting from his sex. "Just don't give them as hard as a time to get it as I had."

He's again dumbfounded by her surprise response. Again reminded of how selfless the young woman truly is as his heart begins to swell. "Really?"

"Really." Bella begins to kick rocks in her baby blue pair of dusty old high-top converses, boredly waiting by her lonesome for the next bus to come her direction.

The recruiter tries his hardest to leave her as he continues to walk ahead, but something stops him, forcing him to turn around to her with a hand proposed outwards. "I'm looking for a business partner, are you interested?"

...

Staring at the handsome outstretched hand, she's strangely interested in taking it.

"Well, I can't say I like what you're doing." Her honesty is a breath of fresh air to the man who is used to constant finessors.

He chuckles. "You don't have to like it, just me."

...

She can't argue with that, because indeed she does.

Bella Haven thought that the biggest gamble she'd ever have to take was having her life on the line during a game of Russian Roulette, little did she know her biggest gamble would be to accept this man's hand and see where it takes her...

She does it anyways.

Fitting into his hand like a glove and against the side of his body as if she were made to be there, Bella accepts his offer to continue what they had started. "And your name?" She frowns in disbelief that they still have yet to be on a first name basis. "What should I call you?"

The recruiter gently tugs her closer to him, staring down upon her with a smile, he finds comfort in her being there beside him. "Call me yours."

[headlightsontonight]

that wincest draft of yours sounds amazing! - @wastemanjohn

context: talking about a wincest fanfic that started off as pure smut (dean turning into a girl lol) and then suddenly devolved into thinking about all the women they've inadvertently killed off...

ha thanks! i dont think ill be able to finish it any time soon (a little obsessed with another story rn) so ill just post the first chunk of it here beneath the cut <3

theres no smut, just vibes as always for my first drafts

In all honesty, turning into a girl was not the worst thing that had happened in Dean Winchester’s life, barely a footnote compared to all of the other, world-ending consequences of (literal) biblical-proportions. After facing down both Lucifer and Michael, two assholes who seemed to be hell-bent on destroying the world, no matter what they said, Leviathans, and who knows what else, having tits and a pussy just seemed like the start of a bad porno, rather than anything actually alarming.

And he would know, with all the times Sam’s had to de-bug their laptop after an unknown virus mysteriously made its way there- what? Of course he doesn’t know how, why would Sam accuse him?!

Anyways, the real annoyance lied in waiting for Sam’s inevitable I told you so, heat prickling the back of his neck at the sheer thought. It was coming, he knew, and he refused to look at Sam for fear of inviting the obvious.

They had been sitting in silent contemplation every since Dean had showed up, in a lovely body, if he had to say so himself, and watched every emotion there was a word for flicker across his brother’s face. It was like a fast-forwarded tape of the human range of emotions, a masterclass in facial expressions and how to make Dean self-conscious, the way that only Sam could.

Still, he hadn’t said the three dreaded words then, only a curt “We’re going back to the store.” He didn’t need to specify which store, since they both knew full-well what had lead Dean into this predicament. Not for the first time, he cursed the store owner and his careless displays of magical objects.

Who knew they were real, and that those Do Not Touch! signs were serious? Dean’s been into hundreds of antique stores, brushed over a million objects in his curiosity , and- wow, maybe this really was a long time coming. Maybe he should’ve been grateful that he hadn’t been affected before instead of-no.

Those sounded like Sam’s thoughts, and Dean was not interested in scolding himself when he knew full well that Sam was itching to do it.

The body itself wasn’t really a problem, even if he had to sit closer to the edge to reach the pedals. He had had his little freak-out before meeting up with Sam, far away from prying eyes, stripping naked to ensure that his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him and cupping every new body part until he got used to their weight- or lack of, in some areas.

He was softer, additional fat in a lot of places, and shorter than before, although he would still tower over most women. His ass was firm, tits a good handful, and he- for all intents and purposes- seemed to be a woman.

The spell, curse, whatever, seemed to have restored his body to default settings, skin smooth as a baby’s. His broken nose was straight now, all his sockets aligned as if they had been freshly popped together, and nothing crooked or callused about his fingers. There were no decaying or bleeding body parts, no supernatural desire to kill or main, and he seemed completely fine otherwise, which was a win in his book.

He had redressed to meet up with Sam, after having come to terms with his new situation. The flannels and jeans effectively disguised his body, loose and awkwardly baggy on him, and hair long enough that he had lost any ammunition against Sam’s hair choices. All in all, it was a strange sensation, not wholly unpleasant, but definitely not enough to warrant Sam’s brooding reaction.

He had expected Sam to be exasperated or obnoxiously annoying about it, to laugh his ass off and make Dean wait until he could control his giggles before helping him, or to subject to a million jokes that weren’t half as funny as Sam thought they were.

None of his reactions really lined up with Dean had prepared for, and it made him second-guess how well he knew Sam, which was the real tragedy. A big brother should be able to predict how their little brother reacts to them turning into a girl, right? Where had he gone wrong?

He caught sight of himself in the rearview mirror, an instinctual double-take, and then his new body took on a whole new image.

Blonde curls, sharp eyes- he looked like Jo. She had been gone too soon, sacrificed in their relentless war against Heaven and Hell, and so maybe he was bringing up bad memories for Sam. Dean slumped a little in his seat guiltily, unconsciously making himself smaller.

Sam’s teasing would’ve been more preferable than this, he thought, tilting his head so more hair hid his face from Sam. Suddenly, the shine of a new body dulled, rusting over with blood and shame.

Thankfully, they had pulled up to the antique store, heaving Dean up and out of his thoughts as Sam marched determinedly in, leaving Dean to scramble in behind. It was the same as ever, clean floors, tacky decorations, and a store owner that seemed like the proverbial cat that had gotten the illustrious canary, although Dean had not made it very hard for her. He was kind of easy that way. The store owner, Claudia, smiled wider as Sam approached, the set of his shoulders screaming out a warning she did not seem to heed.

“Reverse this,” he demanded, a far cry from his usual politeness. Dean had some idea of what had gotten into him but was still bewildered by the intensity, standing by Sam’s side silently.

Claudia took a glance at Dean, eyes raking downwards in a familiar way. Instinctually, he preened, just a tad bit, before realizing that her eyes were dancing with amusement, not heat, and he stopped- a little bit affronted. His body was worthy of some lust, he thought, he was still Dean Winchester.

“An upgrade, free of charge, is not something that people usually return.” Well, that was a little hurtful.

Sam snarled lowly, giant hands coming up to rest on the counter, arms flexing a bit to show their power. Dean would not admit that his heart jumped a bit at the display, but the slight heat in his cheeks physically admitted what he mentally wouldn’t. Thankfully, the two seemed to be locked into a staring match, too focused on each other to pay attention to him.

“I didn’t ask for an upgrade. Change him back.” Dean frowned. That was a lot hurtful. He felt like a bystander in his own issue, unsure if his feigned frustration could even compare to Sam’s real agitation.

“Sam,” he said chidingly, wanting his brother to calm down, only to receive a harsh glare in response.

Jesus, he thought, preferring to stay silent. Usually, a glare from his brother would be incentive to further provoke him, but the thought of Jo and all the memories that brought up had him snapping his mouth shut and turning to Claudia instead. He would let these two duke it out and then call Bobby. Chances were that the spell would fade off after a few days, and that it wasn’t too serious. Who creates an artifact that turns people into girls and kills them? That seemed a bit dramatic, even for his luck.

The two went back and forth for a while, each unwilling to cede any ground, until Sam grabbed the artifact that had cursed Dean (still remembering to cover it with his jacket, even in his anger) and stormed out, dragging Dean with him. Claudia didn’t look affected at all, even waving a cheery good-bye to them as they (were) rushed out. Bitch, he thought. That was probably more appropriate in his current body, right?

Still, most of Dean’s attention was on the fact that his younger brother was huffing and puffing up a storm, eyebrows drawn so tight together they might as be one.

“We’ll figure it out ourselves, forget her. We have the artifact, let’s go.” Dean stared up at Sam, who looked taller than he ever had before, who was refusing to look at him. Instead, he was staring at the artifact clutched between his jacket, something so innocuous and small, capable of wreaking so much emotional havoc on his brother.

He felt bad, wishing he had never touched it at all, not if it was causing Sam so much distress. Dean hated when Sam avoided his eyes, reminding him of the year after Hell, the deceit in his brown eyes, never meeting his. Dean had felt dirty, unworthy then, trickles of guilt running down his back at the reminder.

A small hand reached out for Sam, ending up awkwardly on his arm instead of the original (too-high) destination, his shoulder. Sam tensed up, and his obvious discomfort upset Dean further. It wasn’t until he caught sight of them in the window- a tall, slender blonde woman standing next to Sam Winchester- that the realization hit him.

He looked like Jess.

[kairos-polaris]

Let's talk more about Mercy and how she would feel about Gideon the Second Edition

You are Mercymorn the First, Saint of Joy (Mercymorn Cristabel sounds terrible but this is your favourite name, a piece of Her). You are planning to kill God and destroy his empire.

The plan has been underway for five hundred years but what's five hundred years when you have loved him for a myriad. You love God, you worship your Lord and you hate him the way you can't conceive hating anyone but him. How thoroughly he owns you, his daughter, his sister, his Lyctor, his saint.

So, you engineer a plan to bring down the Apocalypse. Really, to open the Tomb but you have thought of her as the Apocalypse for too long to give up the habit.

You seduce God to create a living offspring of his, one born to be a key to the Tomb. In that you succeed, you think as you look at an infant with Alecto’s eyes in your fellow saint's arms.

Gideon, the one most devoted to your God, explains of his affair, how he thought this infant was his (and wouldn't you laugh and laugh and laugh if you could think of anything but the infant's eyes). They named her Gideon, the Saint of Duty says. Do you want to give her a new name, he asks. But that's not the actual question, he is asking if John plans on keeping her. Her, this child with Alecto's eyes that somehow ended up in John's genes.

You expect John to refuse, instead he holds out his arms to Gideon and asks to hand the infant over. Kiriona, John says and if you didn't know better you would think him awed. But you do, so all you feel is wariness and you steel yourself for questions.

Augustine confesses. He always did flinch first, always turned to John. That was why he was favoured by God, his beloved Lyctor. He tells John about Dios Apate and the plans to kill the child on the steps of the Tomb (you pretend to not see how at those words John’s grip on the infant tightens).

And John plays his usual role of a benevolent god (an act, never truth, John is too much of a vengeful asshole for that). He looks at you with his “I am not mad, just disappointed” look and he sighs and acts like it's you two who are unreasonable and not his ever expanding Empire or his eternal conquest.

It doesn't matter in the end, how willing John is to stop his mission. In that moment all you care for is John's confession to Cristabel’s murder. Because she didn't have to die.

He lied. He lied. He lied. You should feel angry but all you feel is grief, ancient and bottomless. And you feel betrayed and all you want is to slide your hands into your Lord's body until it unravels into atoms and subatomic particles, until there is no John left.

You stray your hand. John is holding the infant, after all. It would be a waste to kill it so far from the Ninth. (You imagine you and Augustine are alive for the same reason.)

-

There is no forgiveness and you can see it in the Emperor's eyes when he looks at you and Augustine. John doesn't forgive or forget but that's okay, you don't either.

The infant grows quickly, looked after mostly by the Saint of Duty. You don't think about how she is yours, too. Her hair is red as yours used to be and she is too young to look like you or John.

The child takes a liking to you for some reason, clinging and following you around whenever you visit Erebus (really, John? There are better places for raising children). The child stares at you with awe in her eyes, she whispers she loves you the one time you carry her to bed (it is the last one too).

She isn't your child, you tell yourself. You have no attachments to her and you don't care, you were ready to kill her. John's empire already took countless children her age and will continue doing so, what's one more?

Kiriona Gaia, the Heir to Emperor Divine, is not your daughter and you feel nothing about her. It would be easier if only John didn't accept her quite so readily. You don't feel anything when you see the child try and fail to not cry after you snapped at her.

You spend sixteen years believing John's daughter is yours, too. You spend those years trying to forget you are related, despite John's attempts to play family. You aren't quite sure what to feel when Kirona starts looking more and more like Wake.

You burst out laughing when you get the results of the genetics tests. There is no match between you and Kiriona, so it must mean she is Wake's. Truly a woman dedicated to a cause.

You start sobbing right after. The child is not yours and you are relieved. She is John's only now.

You don't care (you let Kiriona hug you next time you see her and she smiles at you so brightly as if this was the best gift she was ever given.)