#four shots of bank

[puppy-phum]

Did I read it correctly you would like some crack edit? Well how about Oh (Nanon Character from My dear loser) and Bank (Ohm character from Club Sapan Fine 2) with the twilight quote „And so the lion fell in love with the lamb…" he murmured. I looked away, hiding my eyes as I thrilled to the word. "What a stupid lamb," I sighed. "What a sick, masochistic lion.“ (doesn’t have to be the whole quote only the first bit is fine as well!! I hope you find it is funny as I do other wise I am sorry!!!)

I love your edits and I am looking forward to all your new edits 💗💞

hello anon! and thank you so much for this wonderful, wonderful crack prompt :'D i had a blast with it!

if you happen to see this, here's your gift!

i cackled so loudly once i saw this prompt so yes, i found it very funny! am very fond of oh and getting to use him in this was so nice ♥ bank, on the other hand, is very new to me as i've never watched the silliness of club sapan fine 2, but i can see the connection! very fitting. i hope this is anything you imagined getting!

have a wonderful day and once again, thank you for letting me do this!

[sigh-tofm]

if you’re their sugar baby… (18+)

… price

- absolutely spoils you. adores giving you anything you want. if your gaze lingers in a shop window, he’ll buy you whatever’s in it. you suspect he’s infiltrated your phone somehow, because anything you look at online will show up on your doorstep a few days later. he takes you to private jewellery fittings and sits back with a glass of whisky while the jewellers puts glimmering necklaces and earrings on you.

in return, he likes showing you off. regularly takes you out to restaurants so expensive they don’t even list their prices on the menu. spoon feeds you black caviar and picks out the correct wine, the bottles so old they still have wax seals on them. loves seeing you wearing the dresses he buys for you, revealing the fleshier parts of your body that the rest of society tells you to hide. always wants you to wear diamonds in your ears when you’re his date. nothing is ever too expensive if it’s for you.

takes you to a luxurious hotel after and fucks you good and well in the satin sheets. goes back to base before you wake up the morning after, and leaves a generous cash tip on the nightstand in addition to the monthly four digit payments transferred directly to your bank account.

… kyle

- takes care of you. a sergeant’s pay is low compared to a captain’s, but it’s still a substantial amount and much, much more than you make. enjoys having a pretty lady to spoil. any visit to the hairdresser or nail salon is on him. will occasionally request a specific colour for your nails, and you know it’s to match a dress he’s bought you, waiting for you at home.

takes you dancing, spends the whole night downtown and treats you to high-end street food at three in the morning. you get fancy cocktails and colourful shots and anything else you want to try. if another woman gets close to him on the dance floor, he makes a point out of feeling you up, splaying his hands over you wide hips and soft tummy.

takes you home to his and you both fall right to sleep, waking up past noon the day after. arranges a massage for you to help with your hangover. sits in on the appointment and flips your towel up to eat you out when the massage therapist leaves. reminds you to use the credit card he’s given you in between your orgasms.

… johnny

- whisks you away to scotland when he’s off duty. borrows the family cabin in the highlands and accommodates you both in the master bedroom, spending the cold nights in a grand bed with a heavy pelt covering the duvet. loves the fantasy of having a big, soft secret stowed away in the mountains.

spends the days hiking with you or takes you down to the coast, where you watch the wild waves and enjoy cottage pie in a local pub. asks for the finest whiskey, refusing anything but the best for you. tells you all about the history of the old stone kirk of the town over steaming mugs of spiked cider.

lays the pelt out on the floor before the great fireplace in the living room and grins when you mention the cliché of it all. remarks that clichés exist for a reason and pulls you close. your skin grows goosebumps in the cold air of the cabin, but the fireplace (and the rigorous activity on the pelt rug) warms you both up. lays with you after, smoothing his hand over your side and enjoying how your soft body gives way to the pressure of his fingers. pays for first class on your flight back home and gives you cash enough to cover both rent and supplies for the month. makes out with you messily at the airport before you part ways.

… simon

- takes you along to all his going ons outside of active duty. enjoys having a partner in crime, so to speak. in the military he’s a lone wolf, so when he’s off he just wants to have you for company. price thinks it’s a good idea for him too, to at least pretend he has some normalcy in his life. you oblige. he takes you to all his mundane errands; groceries, changing the tires of his car, walking the old bridle paths in his area.

has you tucked in under his arm when the footie’s on in the evening, trays of hot takeaway on the sofa table. if you can’t decide what you want to order, he has you list everything you’re interested in and orders it all. entertains your questions about football terminology and plays with your hair. pulls a blanket over you when you’re close to falling asleep and turns the volume down.

herds you to bed after a little while and so enjoys having a warm, soft body to put his arm around at night. to you, it’s all so casual and natural that you almost forget it’s an arrangement, but he never forgets to pay for your company according to your agreement and always tips generously.

doesn’t say it out loud, but likes it when you straddle him on the sofa and lets him feel you up and make out with you until he comes in his pants like a schoolboy.

[sayruq]

Israeli forces and settlers have killed 36 Palestinian children in the occupied West Bank in 2024, including two United States citizens, according to documentation collected by DCIP. 117 Palestinian children have been killed in the occupied West Bank since October 7, according to documentation collected by DCIP, when the Israeli military began a full-scale military offensive on the Gaza Strip. In 2023, Israeli forces and settlers killed at least 121 Palestinian children in the occupied West Bank, according to documentation collected by DCIP. Israeli forces and settlers shot and killed 103 Palestinian children with live ammunition, 13 Palestinian children were killed in drone strikes, four Palestinian children were killed by missiles fired from a U.S.-sourced Apache attack helicopter, and one child was killed in an Israeli warplane airstrike.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Carnival

Mary Earps x Child!Reader

Summary: Mary takes you to the carnival

Lockdown was both the bane of Mary's existence and the best thing in the world.

The worst thing because it meant confusion and fear and no football for a while. The best thing because it brought her you.

She fostered at first before moving to adoption when she found that she couldn't be parted from you.

With the lockdowns tentatively over now, things had started opening up again.

Like the carnival.

"They're rigged," You tell her.

You're still little but you speak well for your age, well advanced when compared to any of your peers.

"Rigged?" Mary laughs," Where've you heard that word?"

"I read it," You say," In a book."

"Oh. I forgot I was taking a genius out."

You make a little noise of acknowledgement before turning back to the carnival game.

It's most definitely rigged.

All of them are.

This one is one of those basketball toss games where you know the ring is only just wide enough for the ball to get through. If the throw isn't perfect then it'll hit the rim and bounce away.

Mary is looking at it with concentration though and you snag her belt loops, tugging lightly.

You hadn't meant to stop in the first place but you'd caught sight of one of the prizes.

One shot in got you a keychain.

Two shots got you a little inflated ball.

Three in meant the prize was a small toy.

Four was a medium sized toy.

Five was a big toy.

The big toys are displayed at the very top of the game. A lot of them a bears or big puppies but a handful of them are birds. They're in lots of different colours.

Yellow seems to be the most prominent colour but then it's pink. The one that caught your eye is blue though.

You like the look of it a lot but you also know the odds of winning it are slim to none.

Five perfect shots in a row is very difficult especially when the backing board behind the hoop is angled at a way that means if the ball hits it, it won't go into the hoop in the slightest.

"Mary," You say, tugging," Let's go."

Mary doesn't move though. "You want the bird?"

"Yes."

"Then let's try."

"No."

"You don't even want to try?"

You shake your head, scuffing your foot into the dirt. "It's not worth it, Mary."

"Would it make you happy though?"

"Yes."

"Then let's try."

"But-"

"Come on, birdie," Mary says," We'll try a few rounds and if we get it, we get it but if not that's fine too."

It costs five pounds for five balls and Mary fails abysmally for her first round.

It stokes something in her though, especially when your eyes dart away from the toy with every missed shot.

You've had a rough go of it, Mary thinks as she pays for another few rounds. Before her, you'd had a failed adoption. The couple had wanted you but then the wife had gotten pregnant and they realised what they actually wanted was a biological child.

It had fallen through and you'd bounced for a few days before being fostered by Mary.

She'd worked hard with you on understanding that she wasn't going to abandon you. She'd worked hard to get you to accept her as a maternal role in your life.

But that illusive word still evaded her.

She didn't need it, not truly. She knew what you thought of her and you knew what she thought of you.

She'd do anything for your happiness, including draining her bank to win you this stupid blue bird.

Your eyes had lit up when you'd seen it but you seemed fairly realistic for such a little kid.

These games were rigged but Mary refuses to let that stop her.

You want this stupid bird.

She'll get you this stupid bird.

Her hands are sweaty as she grabs her last ball. The others, surprisingly, have all gone in after nearly fifteen rounds of this stupid carnival game and it slowly dawns on her that this is the last shot.

She wipes her hands on her shirt.

"Mary?" You say and she looks down at you," Are you okay?"

"I'm just fine, birdie. One last shot and we can get your bird."

You glance down bashfully, fingers still threaded around her belt loop. "It's okay if you can't make it. We can go on the teacups instead."

Mary frowns, dropping to her knee so she can cradle your cheek in one of her big hands. "You don't want the bird?"

"I do," You say," But...I don't want you to feel bad if you can't get it in."

"Trust me," Mary says," I just want to make you happy."

You look into her eyes, searching for any hint of untruthfulness in them but you find none. You nod. "You should move slightly to the left," You say," And spread your fingers out a little more."

"Thanks, birdie."

She does as you've said and shoots.

The ball goes in and Mary breathes out a sigh of relief, already leaning over the counter to talk to the poor minimum wage worker that's had to sit through all her attempts.

"Yeah," She says," The bird. The blue one. Up top. Yeah, that one."

He has to get a big stick with a hook on the end to get it off and Mary takes it from him triumphantly.

She presents it to you and you gently stroke your hand over the fur.

She's still holding it but you bypass your new favourite toy completely, moving to hug her as tightly as you can.

"Thank you, Mummy."

Mary tries not to let you finally saying the 'm' word affect her, forcing back the tears that want to fall as she hugs you back, raining kisses onto the top of your hair.

"It was my pleasure, birdie."

[la7ma-mafrooma]

Only a few moments after the end of the 4-day-long sad excuse of a "ceasefire", Israel started its airstrikes again and 30+ Palestinian civilians have been killed. There are a few things you need to know:

Israel DID NOT stick to the pause, and Israeli snipers continued shooting Palestinians during those past four days.

Israeli tanks surrounded some Palestinian homes in Gaza and people were not allowed to leave. Anyone who tried leaving was shot.

The West Bank is currently being targeted. Israel shot a 9-year-old boy and the surveillance camera footage is everywhere on social media.

People in the West Bank are being killed and forced out of their homes with very little media coverage due to the focus on Gaza.

The Palestinian hostages that were released (including women and children) were subjected to severe abuse. A child left with broken arms and fingers, and another child left with bruises and a torn t-shirt.

The Israeli hostages released highlighted the difference between how they were treated and how Palestinians were treated. Israeli hostages spoke openly about the humane treatment they received.

Some released Israeli hostages even refused to speak to Netanyahu. Do I need to say more?

Released Palestinian women were subjected to threats of rape in Israeli prisons and the threat of the killing of their children.

Palestinian hostages were not offered clean water or proper and enough food.

Released Israeli hostages even revealed that some of the Israeli people that were killed, were killed by Israeli soldiers, not Hamas.

[lenakluthor]

totally random question but do you read supercorp fics? and if yes, which ones are your favorites?

i absolutely read supercorp fics! i've been devouring ao3 basically since i finished the show. here are a few of my faves: people will say we're in love by AKAWWJJD - this was recommended to me by a friend and was the second ever supercorp fic i read. it's angsty, but it's BEAUTIFUL and it's one of my favorite fics from any fandom, ever. it's basically a rewrite of crisis and the aftermath of that (with a heartbreaking, post-reveal beginning), and it's just so, so good. it really set the bar for me in terms of supercorp fics and i still think about it to this day. it's heartbreaking and poignant and just. perfect.

the banks of certain rivers and ever more light by @i-am-robie - these two go together, but if you only read one, read ever more light (although i highly suggest reading both). i found this one through a gifset based on the fic, and i am SO happy i did. this is the fic that made me believe in fluff again. i'm not kidding, before i found this fic, if it wasn't tagged as angst, i was not reading it. this one? completely changed my opinion. it's so soft and sweet and it gives you the same butterflies and good feelings kara gets around lena. i actually love these so much that i am in the process of binding them into a book.

same old blues by @searidings - this one is, in my opinion, hands down the best portayal of lena i've read so far. it captures her anger and hurt and emotions so well and it just feels exactly like lena. it picks up after the end of season four and is exactly how i imagine lena's reaction to kara being supergirl. obviously it's canon divergent, but this one just really nails lena. it's angsty and emotional and just SO good. the author describes it as "horny enemies to lovers" in their note and that really sums it up pretty well.

you're in my blood, like holy wine by @jazzfordshire - this one is one of my favorite AUs. it's a loose practical magic AU with witch!lena, but much more developed and fleshed out than in the show. not only does it have really well written supercorp, but it also showcases a really well done friendship between lena and sam. i'm gonna be real i'm very picky about AUs, but this one GOT me. i definitely recommend it.

i also highly recommend checking out all four of those authors' other works. robie has an AU that i really enjoyed, searidings has a fun little competitive supercorp one shot, jazzfordshire has one of my favorite smutty one shots, and AKAWWJJD has a mxy rewrite that is just wonderful.

i've read so many more that were really worth reading, so i highly recommend scrolling through the supercorp tag on ao3 and filtering out the results to find ones you might be into. i could've mentioned a bunch more that i enjoyed, but i figured i'd keep it to my top four and the honorable mentions because the authors all happened to have multiple i love. i've also got like, more than 40 open ao3 tabs currently, so i know my favorites list will definitely be growing.

[omgellendean]

In this report, evidence and documentation collected by DCIP indicate that Israeli forces are deliberately targeting Palestinian children with the intent to unleash cruel and degrading treatment up until the moment of the child’s death. Israeli authorities, which have the ability to hold Israeli soldiers and military officials accountable, are unwilling to take action to stop the killing of Palestinian children.

This report is based on evidence collected by DCIP’s field researchers documenting 141 Palestinian child fatalities in the occupied West Bank, including East Jerusalem, between October 7, 2023, and July 31, 2024.

Full report here

20 percent of the Palestinian children killed by Israeli forces and settlers in the occupied West Bank, including East Jerusalem, since 2000 have been killed after October 7, 2023 at a rate of one child every two days.

Israeli forces deliberately target and shoot unarmed children with live ammunition and trained snipers. Israeli forces and settlers shot and killed 116 Palestinian children in the occupied West Bank, including East Jerusalem, between October 7, 2023 and July 31, 2024.

Israeli forces have killed 25 Palestinian children in aerial attacks in the occupied West Bank, including East Jerusalem, between October 7, 2023 and July 31, 2024. Some children were directly targeted while others were collateral damage as Israeli forces deployed aerial attacks in densely populated civilian areas.

Israeli forces and authorities systematically deny Palestinian children their right to medical care when preventing ambulances, paramedics, or bystanders from providing medical care to a child shot with live ammunition or struck in an Israeli airstrike. In 43 percent of cases in this report, Israeli forces deliberately prevented injured Palestinian children from receiving medical care by detaining and firing live ammunition toward ambulances, paramedics, and civilians attempting to provide aid.

Israeli authorities and forces systematically, deliberately, and specifically embolden Israeli settler violence towards Palestinian children. Israeli forces present during armed Israeli settler attacks fail to prevent the aggression, fail to help the Palestinian victims, and often collaborate with the settlers in inflicting lethal harm. In two cases, Israeli forces and settlers fired toward Palestinian children simultaneously, and DCIP was unable to determine which perpetrator fired the fatal bullet.

Israeli forces killed at least 49 Palestinian children during the intensified large-scale and deadly incursions into Palestinian refugee camps in the occupied West Bank, including East Jerusalem, between October 7, 2023 and July 31, 2024. 

The fatal shootings of child protesters in solidarity with Palestinians in Gaza and the use of expanding bullets during the crackdowns constitute war crimes prosecutable at the ICC. In October 2023, Israeli forces shot and killed four Palestinian children with expanding bullets designed to increase in size upon impact, inflicting fatal internal injuries.

Israeli authorities’ practice of confiscating and withholding Palestinian bodies is a violation of international humanitarian law and international criminal law, which include absolute prohibitions on cruel, inhuman, or degrading treatment. Israeli authorities have confiscated 18 Palestinian children’s bodies in the occupied West Bank, including East Jerusalem, between October 7, 2023 and July 31, 2024.

Israeli authorities work to ensure Israeli forces continue enjoying impunity and face no consequence for the extrajudicial killing of Palestinian children. There are no known accounts of accountability during this reporting period.

[echobx]

Lover turned Brother - Rafe Cameron × fem!reader

summary: y/n is playing pool at her new home, the Cameron mansion, and Rafe walks in on her and takes what he sees as rightfully his

word count: 1.2k

warnings: stepcest, smut, spanking, p in v (unprotected), creampie, double orgasm (fem!receiving), backshots

author's note: never in my life did I ever think to write stepcest and yet here we are. this wasn't even on my og list for kinktober, but I had this idea and couldn't help it

kinktober masterlist

You are in the billiard room, pocketing one ball after the other with much more ease than usual. The table at the Camerons is better than the one at the Country Club where you usually play. But this is your new home, and you don't see why you shouldn't take all the advantages it holds. 

You bend over the rail, trying to bridge the cue on your knuckles deeper onto the table to reach the cue ball that lies impossibly far away from you no matter which side you try it from. 

When Rafe walks by the room and sees you bent over the table, he feels his slacks tighten on his crotch. He knows it's inappropriate to think about his new stepsister like this, but he can't help it either. Especially since you are dressed in a daringly small skirt, that while you lean forward, shows off your pretty ass and the pink thong you're wearing. 

He can't help it when he quietly pushes the door open and closes it behind him, striding over to you just after you have banked the shot and are about to lean up again. His hips thrust against your ass, and you fall forward again. 

“Rafe, stop,” you tell him when you feel his hands on your hips. “We can't do this.” 

“I can do whatever I want,” Rafe mumbles as he flips the skirt over, revealing the pretty heart shape of your ass. His hand leaves a red, stinging mark on your skin when he slaps you, and you jolt forward. 

“It's wrong,” you whimper, but you know you've lost with the increasing feeling of emptiness between your legs. He's always had this effect on you, and even if you tell yourself that it's not moral or that it is frowned upon, you can't help but get turned on by almost anything he does. The day before he picked a baking tray from a higher shelf and handed it to your mom, his shirt slipping up just a little bit and as a result of that you spent a bit longer than usual in the shower, trying to get yourself off to the thought of him. But no matter what you do, it doesn't suffice.

“No, it was wrong that your mommy dear started fucking my dad and ruined what we had,” Rafe growls, slapping you another time, and you yelp, almost excitedly. 

“They will hear,” you hitch a breath, and he slaps you again. 

“House is empty, they all went out. Even took Wheezie with them,” he laughs. “And we can do whatever the fuck we want.” You can hear it in his voice that this new situation you find yourself in isn't doing you both any favors. “I'm not gonna stop fucking you just because you're my sister now. I fucked you before and no one gave a shit, so why would they now?” He chuckles with a deep melodic growl, and you can hear the zipper of his pants, and then how they fall to the wooden floor. 

You haven't had proper sex since before the engagement was announced, which has been four months ago, with the wedding growing closer by the day. And from what it feels like when he rips your panties down and forces your legs apart, Rafe has the same issue. 

“You're such a slut. My little step-sister, who's so fucking wet I might just eat her out,” he tsks, and you whimper at the feel of his cock sliding over your cunt, collecting your slick before pushing into you with a long and fast thrust. You cry out at the intrusion, needing a moment to adjust to him after how long it's been. 

“So big,” your lip quivers against the felt of the pool table, hands clawing at the railing as he keeps you down with one hand on your back, while the other holds onto your hip. 

“Best pussy on the whole island. Not gonna let you go,” Rafe promises as he starts to fuck you. His pelvis hitting your behind with loud smacks. Your moans are almost pornographic, but you can't help it with how he fills you out, the mushy head of his fat cock hitting against your cervix with every thrust, and you love every bit of it.

“Touch yourself,” Rafe demands, and you pull one hand down between your legs and start rubbing your clit until you spasm around him, creaming all over his cock and hearing him laugh through your pathetic cries of pleasure. 

“Fucked out and still not done?” he taunts you, and you try to shake your head, but it doesn't really work. Your eyes are glossy and your brain is mush when he pulls your hand from your clit and pulls you up by your neck, making you stand flush to his chest while his dick keeps torturing your soppy cunt. 

“Rafe, please,” you whine, his hand closing around your throat and making you see stars. 

“You want my cum? Want me to fill you up and make me a daddy? Huh?” he grins and although you can't see it, you know he doesn't really mean it, not yet. He'll go and buy you plan B like he's done so many times before after a slip up. “Want me to breed you like the whore you are?” 

“Please, daddy,” you press out, still struggling to breathe with the tight grip he has around your throat. But he lets go and slams you down onto the table, you can just brace your hands enough to not hit the felt full on. 

Rafe picks up his pace, his hand that was just around your throat is now between your legs, bringing you to your second orgasm. Your screams and the wet sounds of your sore cunt fill the room, drowning out his heavy pants and grunts when he fills you with his cum and then falls slack onto your back. 

He kisses the sweaty skin on your back for a few minutes while growing soft inside you and then pulling out. And although you just had the best sex in months, you wish he would keep going. 

It's all a daze when he pulls your slip back up and tells you how much he's gonna love to take it off later that night and see all of his cum dripping out of you, or when he gets dressed and pulls you back up to clean your teary-eyed face with a soft cotton tissue. 

“You look so pretty when you're dumb on my cock,” he whispers against your lips, leaving you wanting for a kiss that he won't grant you, yet. 

“Rafe?” you ask and grasp for his hand, your knees are weak, and you feel like you will fall over if he leaves you now. 

He takes a step closer, cradling your face in his large hand and tracing your every feature with his eyes. “It's a shame, and I thought we would be the ones getting married one day,” he sighs, pulling away instantly and walking out on you. And if it hadn't been for the pool table in your back, you would've hit the floor the second the door fell into its lock.

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

taglist: @redhead1180 @spideysimpossiblegirl @drwstarkeyy @princessmaybank @kys4-20 @immyowndefender @julczimozart @hoe4sunarin @m2m2m2 @mochimms @itsme-again @maybankslover @th3eternalersi @because-i-like-toxic-men @rafeeekam @carolinaxvz

P.S. Happy Birthday @psychedelicgenesis 💕💕

[loveharlow]

SEVEN [SEASON 2] - 007 (PT 2)

PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚ [8.5k] based on Netflix’s Outer Banks Season 2 Episode 10

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, general obx warnings, graphic depictions of injuries/blood, mild violence

NOW PLAYING‧₊˚

A/N‧₊˚ i KNOW y'all hate me but i've literally been through hell and back these past 1-2 months but we are BACK IN BUSINESS XX THEE SEASON 2 FINALE

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

“IT’S SO HOT IN HERE…” You groaned, fanning yourself as you slumped against the side of the receptacle. You’d all been enclosed in the space for well over two hours at this point and the exhaustion was starting to settle in…as well as the agitation.

“Nice work, John B.” JJ said sarcastically as you leaned on the blonde's shoulder while he glared at his best friend. “Y’know, these things lock from the outside, right?”

“I was just trying to get us on the boat, JJ…” John B groaned, forehead pressed against the metal wall as he stood limply. “I wasn’t thinking that far ahead.”

“Now we’re stuck in here...like rats.” JJ argued, tone short. 

“It’s hot…” Kiara exasperated, stripping off her jacket.

“Okay, JJ, you’re not helping.” Pope dismissed, annoyed as beads of sweat trailed down the sides of his face. He was gripping a random bar, holding on for dear life. 

“You don’t have a whole lotta room to talk, right now, Pope.” JJ retorted. “You said you had a plan but what happened to thinking ahead?” 

“I find your lack of self-knowledge very disturbing.” Pope shot back through heavy breaths. 

“Ohh, okay.” JJ laughed humorlessly, standing from his spot. “Last time I checked-”

“Oh, my God. Shut up!” You and Kiara reprimanded simultaneously — you tugging so hard on JJ’s arm that you managed to get the boy to sit back down as Kie slammed her arm between the two. “Instead of arguing,” You started. “How about we try to find a way out of here?” You offered, mildly agitated yourself.

“We can take the bridge.” JJ offered, shrugging carelessly. You pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration, turning towards your boyfriend stiffly, sighing.

“...What?” 

“The bridge. It’s like killing a snake — we go for the head. And I happen to know that there’s an armory on this ship. I’m talking grenades, SMG’s-”

“Killing everyone here is not an option.” You stopped JJ bluntly, looking the blonde in his eyes. You sighed once more, walking away in an attempt to recollect yourself, isolating yourself from the group and wandering into the very back of the shipping container.

“Well, what’re we supposed to do-”

“We can’t do anything until we find a way out of here, JJ.” John B told the boy. 

You tuned out the boy’s conversation as your eyes found a beam of light coming from behind a mountain of crates and boxes. The observation stopped you in your tracks, squinting your eyes as your thoughts raced. Without hesitation, you began moving the objects out of your way to get to whatever was shining behind them.

After a few minutes, you finally got to what you were looking for — your eyes going wide. “Guys…” You tried, but your voice went unheard over the bickering of the two boys.

“Guys!” You snapped, eyes on your friends on the other end of the container. Their voices came to a halt, all eyes on you as you used your head to motion them over.

“She’s got somethin’.” JJ mumbled as the four of them walked over to you, now able to see what you were seeing.

“Can we fit through that?” You asked smugly, motioning for the window you’d uncovered. 

“Hell yeah.” JJ chuckled, squeezing your arm proudly. “And uh, what about that swiss army knife 'not coming in handy'?” JJ asked sarcastically in John B’s direction, holding his pocket knife in between his fingers — the perfect tool to pry the grate off of the window.

“Just shut up.” JB rolled his eyes as JJ used one of the crates on the ground as a step stool to get high enough to start rooting out the metal grate.

“Okay, sooo…we raid the armory, get weapons, roll back here, and plot the next move?” Pope confirmed with the group as JJ worked, to which everyone nodded tiredly.

“The armory is on the third deck, near the laundry room. Let’s roll.” JJ verified, fingers hooked into the unscrewed grate, ready to pull it off. 

“Hold up.” Pope started, looking around at all of you as JJ stopped in his tracks. “I don’t think we should all go out there…” He cringed. “It’s too risky.”

“What?” JJ said incredulously. “How?”

“...I think you should stay here.” JB added, eyes on your boyfriend. “I have Sarah that I’m gonna go after. And Pope has-”

“The cross.” Pope finished for him. 

“Yeah…” JJ said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Let’s go get it.”

“Also, if you go out there, there’s a one-hundred percent probability that you’re gonna do something stupid.” John B shrugged.

“Okay, first of all, I think the correct terminology is ‘ballsy’-” JJ tried only to be cut off.

“Okay, get down here-” Pope urged, tugging on the blonde’s arm.

“No. Get off-” JJ whisper-yelled as he snatched his arm away but hopped down off the crate anyway. “Dude, I’m a field player.”

“Shhh.” John B demanded. “Look, if we go out there and we get in a bind, we need somebody to look out for us. That’s what we need-”

JJ scoffed, unbelievably. “Okay, I get it, I get it.” He dismissed, jutting out his bottom lip as he trotted over to you, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “Fine. I’ll stay here. Single out the one who got your asses out of the container, cool.” He said. "I’ll be on B team, ‘s fine.”

“I never said B team.” John B said bluntly, blinking.

“Sorry, are you calling me B team?” You asked, mildly offended as you looked up at the blonde, crossing your arms.

“You’re not B team, baby, of course not. I was just-”

“Did ‘B Team’ not just find our way out? Or am I, like, totally losing it?” You asked rhetorically, looking around the cabin with your hands up in surrender. 

“Look, we’re just saying we need people to hang back and hold down the fort.” Pope clarified, hands clasped in front of him. 

“Great, fine. It’s fine, I’ll just stay here with my girl.” JJ smiled annoyedly, throwing an arm over your shoulders as your arms returned to their crossed position.

“Oh, now you wanna stay back with B Team?” You sassed, raising your eyebrows.

“Will you please-” JJ tried before being cut off by Kiara.

“Guys.” She said firmly. “Chill. Look, John B and Pope wanna go alone? Fine. I’ll stay here with Y/N and JJ, I’ll babysit.”

“You guys have fun. It’s your funeral, your game. We’ll be in here, on the bench…” JJ taunted, shrugging nonchalantly as he released his hold on you and walked back to the front of the container.

You watched as John B and Pope climbed the crates on the floor up to the opened window, one behind the other as John B moved the metal grate to the side. 

“Don’t...get shot?” Kie said, attempting to offer some kind of comfort.

“...Don’t get shot.” Pope reiterated sassily, pulling his lips into a thin line. “That’s…disheartening and scary.”

Kie simply shrugged. “It’s all I got.”

“Okay, let’s go.” John B whispered, poking his head out of the window like a dog. “Pope, grab my feet.”  He instructed in a whisper before launching himself out of the window before bothering to make sure the boy in question even had a hold on him. 

“Oh, Jesus-” Pope cursed, watching as his friend fell face first out of the window — you and Kie’s jaws going slack. It seemed John B had managed to catch himself, however, considering there was no screaming or cursing as his entire frame seemed to slide the rest of the way out of the window.

Seconds passed before Pope followed suit, carefully sliding himself out of the small opening. You were quick to tip toe up the crates, hearing unknown voices from the outside which prompted you to carefully replace the metal grate, praying it wouldn’t dislodge itself. 

Letting the object set itself, you turned to face the two people you remained locked inside with, sighing heavily to yourself when you realized how awkward this would be — even if all parties didn’t realize it. 

“...’s just us.” You sighed with a grimace, hopping down off the grates. “Now, we wait.”

NOT EVEN THIRTY MINUTES INTO CAMPING OUT, OR “KEEPING WATCH", THE THREE OF YOU WERE SWEATING BULLETS. Kiara had isolated herself on the complete other side of the container — whether it was to give you and JJ space or avoid you, you weren’t entirely sure. A part of you wondered if you should tell JJ about Kiara’s confession, if that was the right thing to do as a girlfriend. But the other part figured that it wasn’t your place as Kiara’s friend, no matter how rocky of a hill the friendship currently stood on.

“I’ve been thinking,” JJ started after half an hour of silence — you were resting your head in his lap, hands splayed across your stomach as he laid his head back against a stack of boxes and crates. “When all this is over, and we’re just rollin’ in the dough, I’m gonna get a new board.” He concluded, lanky fingers playing in your hair. “I’m gonna deck it out, and I’m gonna go on a surf trip.” He smiled to himself in thought as you stared up at him. “I don't know where,” He shrugged. “But, like, the world’s calling…I don’t know. Name a place.” He requested, blue eyes looking down at you.

You pondered for a moment, fingers tapping on the surface of your stomach before you settled on an answer — eyes meeting his with a small smile. “Spain.”

He beamed, seemingly satisfied with the answer. “Then after Spain?”

“...South America.” You said, pouting your lips in thought. “Or South Africa.” You shrugged with a smirk.

“And then Micronesia, maybe? And then we…just ride.” He sighed dreamily. You couldn’t help the pure admiration blooming in your eyes, unable to unglue them from the boy above you as he got consumed by his own daydream. You liked seeing JJ happy. He deserved it.

“Wherever the wave takes you?” You asked, voice soft and full of adoration. 

Your voice seemed to snap him out of his stupor, the blonde looking down at you once more to find your big eyes staring at him like everything you’d ever wanted. Everything he'd ever wanted. “Wherever the waves takes us.” He corrected.

“So, that’s the plan if we were to get a ton of cash? That’s it?” You inquired. “That’s the dream? Surf trip?”

The blonde simply nodded. “Rippin’ jungle break all day long. Bamboo hut, cooking a fish on a fire, and after that, you go back out and hit the waves again.” He smiled once more to himself, dropping his hand to brush his thumb over the curvature of your jaw. “That’s the dream.” 

“Sounds perfect.” You cooed, putting one of your hands over his. Subconsciously, you let your head fall to the side, finding Kie’s eyes across the shipping container. Her own sad, brown eyes were glued where you and JJ’s hands were connected — fleeting between his featherlight touch on your jaw and your fingers on top of his. There was an indecipherable look in her eyes, a look that made your stomach turn in the worst ways.

You loved JJ. But you hated hurting Kiara. And you wonder if being in a position like this would ever get any easier.

The sound of tapping and Pope’s voice broke you from your thoughts. “Hey, hey,” He whispered, face nearly pressed against the grate. “Open it.” He instructed in a whisper, Kiara being the first one to get up in order remove the barrier, allowing the boy into the container. You and JJ stood to get closer to the two, watching as Pope climbed through the opening. 

“You need help?” Kiara offered her friend.

“I’m good.” He strained out a polite denial of the offer, landing on his feet inside the space.

“I thought Rafe got you guys for sure.” Kie worried, shoving her hands in her back pockets. 

“No, we’re chill.” Pope whispered, peeking out of the window once more before letting John B in after him, the brunette struggling a bit to climb back in. 

“All right.” You sighed, finishing your mental headcount. “Let’s put the grate back on.” You suggested as JB landed on his feet.

“No, wait.” Pope held out a hand, prompting you to wait a second. 

Your eyes furrowed at this. “What?”

“Hold on to it.” Pope instructed, eyes focused on the opening as if he was waiting for something. Or someone.

“No, put it back.” Kie urged, ready to replace the grate. Suddenly, a girl appeared in front of the square opening — a pretty, brown-skinned girl, covered in sweat. Your face immediately contorted into one of confusion upon registering her presence.

“Jesus Christ!” She whisper-shouted, taking in each of you one by one before her eyes landed on John B. “I kill you, John B!” She threatened with her accent, climbing into the shipping container as you all backed up to make room for her.

“Who is this?” Kie whispered, eyes on Pope. 

“Just relax, okay?” John B got Kie’s attention on him. “I told you I had a surprise.”

“When did you say that, exactly?” You asked, eyes permanently pinched together as you instinctively backed into JJ for comfort. 

“Who is she? What’s going on?” Kiara interrogated, voice becoming something between angry and frantic. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” John B coaxed, planting his hands on the girl’s shoulders to stabilize her. “Kie, relax.” He tried, tone lowering as he seemed to calm her. “Remember I told you about the girl we met in the Bahamas that saved us?” He asked, eyes connecting with all of yours.

“Uh…Cleo, yeah?” Kiara answered, earning a nod from John B.

Your eyes went to the girl standing on the makeshift stairs, pointing as you gained her attention with the movement. “That’s you?” You asked.

She offered a simple nod in response, allowing John B to continue talking. “She’s gonna help us.” He told Kie before turning to Cleo herself. “...Right?”

“Next time, ask me.” Cleo reprimanded your friend in a low, annoyed tone. This girl didn’t necessarily give you a bad vibe, but this seemed to be working out in your favors a little too well.

“John B.” You started, eyes on his as you jutted your head towards the back of the container and away from the group. “Can I talk to you?” The boy drew his lips into a thin line as he followed you to the back of the container, leaving the remaining four up front.

“What’s wrong?” Your friend asked impassively.

‘What’s wrong?” You asked incredulously, eyes fleeting quickly between your friends and the unknown girl as you took one step closer. “John B, we don’t know this girl. How do you know she’s actually going to help us?”

He immediately began shaking his head, his hands out in front of you to stop your ranting. “I know, it’s risky.” He assured you. “But that girl saved me and Sarah’s lives in the Bahamas. I know you guys don’t know her but I trust her.” He explained. “Do you trust me?”

You pondered for a moment, chewing the inside of your lip as your foot tapped incessantly on the floor — eyes flying back and forth between Cleo and your friends. “...You know I do.”

John B nodded, a pompous smile on his face. “Okay. So, trust me when I say that you can trust her.” He said simply.

You clenched your jaw as you eyed the girl from feet away as she conversed with your friends. 

“...Fine.” You caved, sighing and untensing your body. “But if this is a bad call, it’s your bad call.” You warned before walking away and rejoining the group as JB trailed close behind. 

“You seriously grabbed nothing?” JJ said in surprise, the group continuing the conversation you and John B had missed a chunk of. “Not even a single gun?”

John B sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he leaned on some netting hanging from the ceiling. “We tried, okay? I got attacked.”

“This is why I should’ve gone with.” JJ sassed, shrugging from his place beside you. 

“Let me get this straight,” Cleo inserted herself into the boys' bickering. “You five, with no weapons, decided you were gonna hijack this tramp steamer on your own?” She asked, unbelievably. “Do you have any idea who these people are?” She asked, something between anger and fear in her eyes. “Eberhimi? If he catch you, he’s gonna kill you.” She warned. “Dead. Cut off ya fingers.” She exaggerated. Or...maybe not.

“Okay…” Kiara started. “What about waiting until we get to port?” She threw out. “At least then, if something goes wrong, we have a place to run.” 

“No.” Pope shook his head almost immediately. “No, we can’t do that.”

“Why?” Kiara shrugged in offense. 

“Because I’ve run the scenario over one-thousand times in my head, and our best chances are on this ship. There’s fifteen crew members and six of us,-”

“Exactly.” Kiara quipped.

“Three-to-one odds.” Pope said bluntly. “That’s the best it’s gonna get. If we wait ‘til we get there, they’re gonna trap us.”

“We have no chance.” Kiara argued with his logic. 

“No, Kie, there’s something else.” John B added. “...Ward’s alive.”

You couldn’t control the way your neck snapped in the boy’s direction, an immediate wave of confusion and pure anger washing over you. “Excuse me, what?” You spat as the rest of your friends stood frozen, waiting for John B to elaborate on just exactly what the hell he meant. 

“He’s alive, and he’s on this boat.” 

“What?” Kiara finally spoke.

“I fucking knew it.” You scoffed, overcome with disbelief as you turned away from the group, shaking your head. 

“You gotta be kidding me.” JJ scoffed.

“...Are you serious?” Pope asked in a whispered tone. 

John B just nodded despondently. “It was all a setup.” He shrugged. “Blowing up the boat, his confession to Shoupe? Think about it.” He explained. “That was to clear Rafe’s name. And he does what? Goes to the Druthers. And what’s on the Druthers?”

“Scuba gear.” You answered, voice tight as you turned back around, clicking your teeth. 

John B grimaced, tilting his head to the side. “Bingo.” 

“So, Ward’s alive, huh?” JJ started, tone indecipherable. “And he has the gold…and the cross…and Sarah.” He listed, walking to the center of the group. 

“Thanks for rubbing that in.” Kie retorted, rolling her eyes. 

“So, he’s just gonna get away with everything again, huh? Rafe, too?” He provoked, looking at each of you as he spoke. 

You immediately shook your head, a look of borderline disgust on your face. “No.” You threw out. “No, hell no.” You reiterated, tone much more firm this time. “We’re not watching this movie again. Okay? Pope? John B? Do you hear me?” You continued. “You said we need the win. You said that Pope.” You reminded the boy, taking a few steps into his space. “And with her?” You pointed to Cleo. “We’re going to the bridge, and we’re gonna take it. Are you with me?”

“...Let’s do it.” John B opted in, eyes focused on his feet as he took your words in.

“I’m with you.” Pope assured, eyes meeting yours. “And I wanna be the one to take that bridge.” He made abundantly clear.

“That’s what I’m talking about.” JJ praised, cupping your neck and pulling you in to place a quick, proud kiss on your cheek. 

“He’s gonna take the bridge?” Cleo chuckled, referring to Pope. “He couldn’t even take me.”

“Okay, first of all, I was going easy on you-” Pope tried to defend. 

“I went easy on you.” Cleo asserted herself, pointing at the boy.

You all shushed the bickering teens, careful not to be too loud. 

“Relax.” John B directed as JJ began talking, eyes on Cleo.

“If you’re really with us, if we use that knife,” He started, referring to the weapon in the girl’s hand. “We can go up into the bridge, hold it up against the captain’s neck, then we go on the intercom and make him tell the rest of the crew to meet up in the forward hull.” He explained his logic. And for once, his plan didn’t sound so bad. “Once they’re in the same place, bam, we lock ‘em in there and take back what’s ours.” 

Pope nodded, thinking about JJ’s words. “I like it.” He agreed. “It could work.”

“...Are you with us, then?” JJ pressed Cleo, stepping even closer and making unwavering eye contact with the girl. 

“No.” She said without much thought before turning to look at John B, directing her next words at him. “This is stupid.” 

“All right, let’s open these things up!” A voice boomed from outside the container, startling all of you as your gazes whipped in the same direction. 

“...They’re checking the containers.” Kiara stated the obvious. Cleo wasted no time in climbing the stair of crates and peeking outside the “window” before removing the grate. Your heart raced as you watched her quick movements — was she about to rat you all out?

“”Wait. No, Cleo.” Pope tried.

“What are you doing?” Kiara hissed. 

Cleo shushed the pair, carefully placing the large piece of metal on the ground. The five of you watched with anticipation as the girl climbed out of the window, hearing metal clanking from the outside as you presumed the men had begun to open up your crate to search next. 

“Piece of shit’s stuck.” One of the men complained. Good, you thought to yourself.

“Macias!” Cleo bellowed as her feet hit the ground, the girl disappearing out of sight for the most part. 

“She’s gonna tell them. Shit!” Pope automatically assumed the worst. 

“Hold up!” Cleo’s voice boomed from outside as you instinctively covered the opening, also assuming the worst. Until you heard her voice again. “This one’s clear, sir.” She said to the men, the sound of metal clanking from the outside coming to a halt with her words. 

“...You sure?”

“Went through it inch by inch. Nothing but tubing and plastics in there.” You all shared smug smiles of amusement. Maybe you could trust her.

“What if the stowaway had been in there?” The guy pressed.

“Well, he wasn’t, so…” She replied. “C’mon, man. We have work to do. Move your bumper, man.” She dismissed the crew member. And it wasn’t long until you heard footsteps coming back your way.

“Okay…” Pope started. “She’s on our side. That’s good.” 

“Okay, Pope, you’re up.” JJ patted his friend on the back, watching as Pope removed the metal covering once more, revealing Cleo on the other side as she whistled to signal her return. “We’ll wait for your signal, okay?” Pope nodded before turning to the girl waiting outside for him.

“Come on.” She urged, helping the boy out of the container. 

“Thanks for that, by the way.” He showed his gratitude to your new found companion, their voices still close enough to hear. “I don’t know why you did that, but I’m not gonna argue.” He told her. “...Why’d you do that?” 

“Not for charity.” Cleo told him honestly. “Just figure I’m better off with you guys than with Eberhimi.” 

“Right.”

“And now you guys owe me a cut of that treasure.” 

“...That’s fair.”

“All right.” The pair concluded. “How we takin’ over this fort, Chief?”

“...Can I borrow your knife?” Pope asked. 

“...I got a better idea.” Cleo denied. “Come on.” And that was the last of the conversation you all could hear before the sound of their footsteps retreating was heard.

ABOUT TEN MINUTES PASSED BEFORE YOU HEARD IT. 

“Attention, all passengers, all crew, report to the tween forward hull. That’s an order.” The four of you remaining in the crate, shared looks before putting your ears to walls of the enclosed space. “Repeat. All hands and all passengers report to the tween forward hull immediately.” 

There it was — Pope’s signal.

“They did it. They took the bridge.” John B smiled.

“That’s our boy. “JJ applauded, him and John B immediately removing the metal grate for what you hoped to be the last time. “Alright, we split up. Once they’re all in the hull, Y/N and I will lock them inside.”

John B nodded in agreement. “I’ll find Sarah and get the lifeboat.” He informed. 

“What about me?” Kie asked, eyes wide as they went between John B and the pair of you and JJ.

“...Come with us.” You told the girl, your eyes locked with hers. It was a silent gesture, a speechless truce — your way of letting her know that you were both okay. She nodded, a tiny smile on her lips.

“Alright.” She took the offer. 

You nodded in her direction before looking to John B. “We’ll load the cross, meet you, and get outta here.”

“Okay.” JJ gathered you all’s attention. “Let’s roll.” He led the group of you, leaning out of the window and using the barrels below to help himself out. Once he was on the ground, he turned around — hands outstretched to help you out, assistance that you gratefully accepted. John B followed after you and Kiara was the last one out.

The four of you wasted no time in bolting in the direction that Pope and Cleo had gone previously, following JJ as he led you all to the forward hull. John B had already managed to separate himself as soon as you entered the ship, quick on the start of his search to find Sarah.

You, Kie, and JJ ducked behind the walls on either side of the door when you reached the hull. You and Kie on one side, JJ on the other. You heard voices grow as the room filled with passengers and crew members.

“Hey, what the hell is this all about?”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with that stowaway, does it?”

“Guess we’ll find out.”

“Psst.” JJ aimed to get your attention - your wide, adrenaline filled eyes going to him as you tried not to move a muscle. “How many?” He whispered. You and Kie took a quick glance into the hull, doing a quick count before turning back to your boyfriend as you both held up three fingers simultaneously. 

The three of you peeked, watching as the room filled with person after person. 

“What’s goin’ on, man?”

“I don’t know. Waitin’ on the captain.”

“He’s supposed to be down here.”

Over the mess of voices, one in particular caught your attention. 

“Where are we going? Where’s dad?” Wheezie? The girl’s meek voice caused you to peek further into the door, watching as the girl in question followed Rose into the hull, both of them being followed by Rafe. 

“I don’t know, Wheezie.” Rose sighed.

You watched them approach the final door to the hull, hiding back behind it in order to not be seen or spotted as Rafe paused in his tracks, whipping his head to the side, just nearly missing the sight of you three. Once you heard footsteps, you assumed he’d gone inside — taking the risk and peeking to find the family of three completely out of sight.

Turning to face JJ, you spoke as low as you could. “That’s all of the crew.”

But he shook his head. “Except Ward.” The blonde reminded you. “We need Ward.”

As much as you agreed, closing the door now was your best bet before the crew got suspicious. “We can’t wait.”

JJ seemed to sit on the thought for a moment before caving in, motioning for you and Kie to help him close the door. With no hesitation, the three of you ran inside and used all of your collective strength to push the door shut, the people inside immediately reacting to the creaking of the metal door.

“Hey!”

“Oh my God!”

Crew members began to throw themselves against the door in an attempt to keep it open and overtake you three, but you had already gained the upper hand. For the most part. Once the door was shut, you and Kie held it down while JJ locked it.

You all left out breaths of relief until you heard one of the voices on the other side.

“Check the other door!”

You, Kiara, and JJ all shared mutual looks of shock before jumping into action, running around to the other side of the hull, almost tripping over one another in the process. 

JJ himself took the lead, managing to shut and lock the door completely by himself before the men inside even had the chance. You all looked at one another, sharing the same victorious smile before going off and taking the ladder down into a lower part of the ship where the cross was being held. 

“Time to jack this loot.” JJ clapped his hands together and rubbed them together in true klepto fashion, being the first one down the ladder.  You followed his lead, watching as he stopped in front of a cloth-covered coffin. JJ didn’t wait a second before uncovering the box, revealing the cross you all had lost. “There she is.” He cooed, staring down at the golden masterpiece.

Your eyes locked with his, the two of you sharing a look. “Surf trip?” He asked lovingly. 

“Surf trip.” You winked, the two of you carrying out a complex handshake. 

However, the three of you paused — hearts jumping out of your chests when the ceiling opened up. But your fear quickly turned to relief when you made out Pope’s frame standing above you, smiles breaking out on your faces.

The pure relief in your chests prompted a chorus of laughs to ring out, eyes on the boy standing above you with unadulterated determination on his face. You all started cheering, forgetting how important discreteness was to this plan.

“Whoo!”

“Whooooo!”

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about! Let’s go!”

You all applauded how well the plan was going. For the first time, it felt like something was going right. In your favor. Maybe the Kooks didn’t always win. Maybe the Pogues didn’t always lose. 

“The time where people do shit to us and we just sit back and take it is over.” Pope declared, standing above you all like a public figure.

“That’s my boy!” JJ praised, punching the air. “Let’s get this done, baby!” 

You three watched as Pope climbed his way to the top of the crane, seating himself and watching as the machine came to life. The trio of you got the cross ready for pick up and drop off, wrapping a loop around the cross with thick fabric, securing it. 

“Take her up, Pope!” JJ shouted from below once the large piece of treasure was ready to go. You all watched in awe as Pope used the heavy machinery to lift the gold, watching it sway violently from side to side on its way up.

“Slow, Pope!” You hollered, watching the cross nearly hit the sides of the ship. “Slowly!”

“Bring her in the middle!” Kie instructed, using the short rope JJ had tied around the bottom to help Pope guide it. Pope did as he was told, but way too fast, sending the cross flying to the middle of the opening in the ceiling, taking JJ with it.

“No! Too far!” You shouted, chasing the cross while trying to lend JJ a hand at the same time. “Too far, Pope!” 

“Sorry!” The boy shouted from the crane operating cubicle. “My bad!”

Once JJ was on his feet, you, him, and Kiara helped to guide the cross to the actual middle. 

“Hey!” A fifth voice chimed in, your heads shooting in the direction of it — watching as Cleo ran around the corner, standing above you all where Pope was just moments before. “Send it up, Pope. You got it!”

“Did John B get the lifeboat?!” Pope questioned from his place above you all.

“I don’t see him!” Cleo replied back loudly, shrugging confusedly. 

“Where’s Sarah?!” Pope questioned further as the three of you keeping the cross stabilized, the boy earning no response from the girl as she waved a hand to dismiss his interrogation.

“Hurry!” Cleo commanded. The three of you watched as Pope lifted the cross, the piece of treasure getting higher and higher in the sky. “Wow…” Cleo's eyes twinkled at the sight of the cross, this being her first time seeing the aforementioned treasure. “Send it this way.” She guided Pope.

Once those two had the cross secured to the crane — You, JJ, and Kie’s job here was done. The three of you released your hold on the cross, letting the pair of them do their task without intervention. You led your boyfriend and best friend around the corner, at the forefront of the three person line, now on your second task to meet John B.

“Clear?” Kie asked, peeking behind you. You eyed the scene left and right before nodding at her over your shoulder.

“Clear.” You assured, tip-toeing around the corner and onto the upper deck. You swiftly walked around, looking for where John B and Sarah should've been with the lifeboat. “I don’t see him.” Rounding another corner, you looked around before your heart dropped when Eberhimi, the captain of the ship, descended the stairs.

You and the man made eye contact — challenging and unwavering as he unsheathed a knife. “Of course.” He gritted through his teeth, brows set into a harsh line. “There’s more of you.” He spat, pointing the knife at the three of you. “Get down on your knees.” He ordered.

JJ was the first to speak, drawing his lips into a thin line as his head jutted to the side. “I don’t swing that way. Sorry, bro.”

“In front of my boyfriend?” You couldn’t help but chuckle — being somewhat acclimated to situations like this. “Wow, you’re bold.” You shook your head in pity. 

“Is this a joke to you?” Eberhimi squinted, looking at the group of you like you were out of your minds. “Get on your damn knees!”

“Yeah, not gonna happen.” Kiara denied as the captain’s patience came to an end, the man charging at you all, swinging his machete at all three of you as you managed to collectively dodge the attack. He swung again, to the side this time. An attack that didn’t land, again. 

JJ took the opportunity to pin the captain’s arm against the wall, rendering the older man somewhat defenseless. You and Kiara used your collective strength to replace JJ’s hold on Eberhimi’s arm, allowing your boyfriend to clock the man in his cheek. “Hit him, Y/N!” JJ directed, you giving Kiara the task of keeping the man pinned as you opened the fusebox closest to his face, slamming the door against his features. “Where’s John B?” JJ asked breathlessly, frustration growing with the aforementioned boy's absence.

“John B!” You and Kiara screamed, looking over the edge of the boat for any sign of the lifeboat. “Bree!” You continued screaming, looking back to find JJ engaged in another brawl with the captain. JJ had the upper hand for a moment — dodging hit after hit until Eberhimi managed to get him one good time in the chest, sending your boyfriend flying backwards, watching as he hit his head against the side of the ship.

“Hey!” You jumped into action, running towards the two men. “Don’t fucking touch him!” You warned, running at the man whose attention jumped to you at the sound of your rapid footsteps coming in his direction. He swung at you but you managed to dodge the swing, just narrowly missing being cut with the tip of his blade but now you were disoriented, unaware that your back was to the older man now.

“Y/N!” JJ and Kie called your name at once. You tried to stabilize yourself, turning in the direction of their voices only to come face to face with the man once more, but this time you weren’t as lucky. As you made another attempt to dodge his swing, you failed — a burning sensation blooming down the length of your thigh as his machete made a long, deep incision from the top of your thigh to right above your knee.

“Y/N!” They shouted once more, watching you get semi-mutilated as you let out a heart-wrenching screech, falling to the floor as your own blood started to pool underneath your injured leg. All you could do was sit, dry-heave, and watch as JJ quickly regained full consciousness, getting up and launching himself on to the man's back.

He managed to get the man into a chokehold and away from you, until he was elbowed in the ribs and hit under his chin — rendering the blonde unconscious and sending him flying overboard and into the water. It was like your entire world was moving in slow motion as you watched JJ fall into the water, your heart dropping to your stomach as your only focus became him.

You screamed his name as he fell, you were sure of it. But you couldn’t hear your own voice in your ears. Somewhere in your adrenaline-driven haste, the pain in your leg seemed to dissipate — pushing yourself up and onto your feet. You angry eyes found Eberhimi, limping swiftly in the man’s direction before he had time to register your movements, giving him no time to defend himself as you used your good leg to kick him savagely in the stomach before punching him mercilessly in the face, sending the man to the ground with strength you didn’t know you had.

You immediately turned your sights to Kiara, who stood to the side, shocked. “Where is he?” You asked through heavy breaths, eyes scanning the waters below for any sign of your blonde.

“Y/N, you need to-”

“Where is he?!” You repeated yourself, much less patience in your tone this time. You didn’t mean to yell at her, but JJ needed help. Why couldn’t she see that? Eyes still trained overboard, you spotted a figure floating face down, motionless. “JJ!”

You didn’t think twice — wincing as you lifted yourself up onto the edge of the boat, paying no mind to your own potentially fatal injury before jumping off into the water where you watched your boyfriend’s unconscious body float, hearing Kiara scream your name before your body hit the water.

You were under for seconds before you were able to fight your way to the top, looking around to find JJ floating limply next to you. “J…” You breathed out, struggling to swim to him — the saltwater eliciting the pain receptors in your thigh to work in tandem with your brain again. 

Despite the insufferable burning sensation in your leg, you continued to swim to JJ — scooping him up by his arms when you reached him, now able to flip him onto his back. His eyes were closed and his chest wasn’t moving, which sent you into a panic of your own. “JJ.” You tried, attempting to shake him but it was hard with the water restricting your movements. 

It was also becoming increasingly harder to keep you both afloat by yourself. “JJ, come on!” You groaned, maneuvering so you could use one hand to lightly slap his face. “J, please. Please, don’t do this to me.” You begged, letting the tears you didn’t know were forming fall down your already wet face.

Holding you both afloat was getting harder by the minute and you were sure only one of your legs was working to tread any water. An overwhelming sense of fear started to overtake you every time your chin dipped below the surface of the waves, wondering how long you could do this. “JJ, please.” You cried, sniffling. “You’re scaring me. I need you, okay?” You breathed. “I can’t lose anyone else.” You whined, crying harder by the second. “I can’t lose you.”

Suddenly, there was a splash in the water next to you, Kiara’s head popping up within seconds as she shook the water from her hair. A part of you wanted to ask her what took her so long but the other was grateful that she came down at all.

“Let him go.” She instructed breathlessly. You looked at her like she was insane, paying no mind to your own vision that was starting to spot. You were losing too much blood, you realized. But you had bigger things to worry about it. You’d be fine, you told yourself.

“No.” You shook your head, holding JJ closer to you. “No, I need to keep him above the water-"

“He’ll float.” Kiara told you, treading water. “He’s already unconscious so he won’t breathe any more water in. But if you try and hold him up, you’ll drown.”

“I’ll be fine-”

“Y/N, you have to-”

“No, I don’t!” You argued, vision going blurry as you shook your head to re-stabilize it. “I’ll keep him up until we find the others.” You told her. “I’m not letting him go.” Kiara seemed to accept her defeat, opting to share some of the burden of JJ’s weight — moving to hold up the other half of his body.

“Where’s John B?” You asked, voice slipping under.

“I - I don’t know.” Kiara sighed. “John B!” She screamed, looking around as you continuously blinked to try and keep yourself awake. “John B! Help!”

You figured all hope was lost until the sound of a boat engine rounded the corner, four blurry figures coming into view. 

“There they are!”

“JJ!”

“Kie!”

“Y/N!”

They all called your names as they got closer, the boat slowing next to you.

“No, no, no, no no…” John B repeated, taking notice of JJ’s unconsciousness.

“Why is she so pale?” Pope asked, referring to the way your skin had lost all pigment and undertones, leaving you looking like a ghost. "How long have you guys been in the water? Is she hypothermic?"

“Help me get them up.” Kiara demanded, releasing JJ to your friends as they dragged him onto the boat, laying him in the center before they began to help you up, not seconds passing before they took notice of the large, deep gash on your thigh.

“What the hell happened?” John B asked, realizing both of his long-time friends looked like they were on the verge of death.

Once all three of you were on the lifeboat with the others, you immediately pushed your way through your friends to reach JJ, despite their protests that you should sit back down. JJ was flipped onto his back, head elevated against the boat.

You began to tap the side of his face, trying to get a response once more before deciding to go further, clasping your hands together and pushing down on the center of his chest. 

“Here, let me-” Someone offered, you didn’t know who.

“No.” You said quickly. “No, I got it.” You assured weakly, but you could feel yourself slipping away, having to recenter yourself every few seconds. 

“I don’t think you do…” They tried once more, but you ignored them — involuntary or voluntary, you weren’t exactly sure. You continued pushing down on JJ’s chest until you saw droplets of water dribbling down his bottom lip, the sight only motivating to push harder until he started coughing. Only then, did you allow your movements to stop as your boyfriend coughed up whatever liquid had leaked into his lungs from the fall.

A small, weak smile crawled onto your face at the sight, the two of you locking eyes for the briefest of moments. “Hey.” You said softly, leaning back as you finally let yourself breathe. The boy looked at you tenderly before rasping out a response.

“...’Sup?” He said, trying to sound cool, sending you a sly smile before it morphed into concern. “Why are you so pale?” He asked, a hand coming up to caress your cheek.

You shook your head slowly, your eyes closing themselves as you spoke. “...’M fine.” JJ’s eyes went to his friends for answers, realizing you were losing it. Then he remembered — his eyes immediately shooting down to your thigh, the blood still leaking like a waterfall, if not faster.

“Shit.” He cursed, sitting up straighter and pulling you into him. “Help her.” He ordered, holding you tight. “Help her!” Was the last thing you heard before everything went completely black.

THE NEXT TIME YOU OPENED YOUR EYES, you were greeted with the heat and glare of the sun and a dull ache in your right thigh, grains of sand pressing into the back of your legs. Blinking your eyes open carefully, acclamating them to the rays of light, you watched as Pope, JJ, and John B drug the lifeboat to shore. A quick glance down at your thigh had you realizing someone had done their best to construct a makeshift tourniquet to help you out. 

Where you were? You had no idea. But you felt better. Somewhat, anyway.

You watched as the three boys plopped the floatation device on the sand, taking deep breaths from the labor before approaching the four of you girls sitting in the shade.

You didn’t miss the way JJ’s eyes immediately locked with yours, a grateful smile on his pink lips at the sight of you awake. He took a seat next to you, pulling you into his side and planting a kiss on your temple as you cuddled into his embrace. 

“Good to see your pretty eyes again.” He uttered, voice oddly soft and gentle.

You playfully shrugged him, not enough to disrupt his hold on you as you let out a light chuckle. “Get away from me, you flirt.” You joked before returning to a somewhat serious demeanor. “Are you okay?”

The blonde shrugged, sighing and leaning against the tree you perched up against. “Still a lil dizzy. But I’m alright.” He said simply. “How ��bout you, princess? How’s your leg?” 

You nodded, sighing relief. “Much better.” You told your boyfriend. “Was this you?” You asked, referring to the tourniquet that seemed to be constructed from someone’s sock.

He simply shook his head, jutting out his bottom lip as he motioned his head in Cleo’s direction. “It was all her.” He smiled gratefully. “I think we can trust her. She’s saved three of our lives so far.” 

"Three?" You pondered. "Wouldn't it be four?"

"Nah." He shook his head. "You saved my life. That was all you." The praise made your cheeks go hot, burying half of your face into his chest.

Your eyes found Cleo across the sand, locking eyes with the girl. You sent a sweet smile her way, mouthing a ‘thank you’ her way. The girl simply winked and nodded at you. You had a feeling she’d fit in just fine, if she wanted to stay, that is.

“Might not want to thank me just yet, darlin’.” The girl warned, a sly smile on her face as she leaned against her arms. “We still gotta cauterize that thing.” She pointed to your thigh. “And you can’t be asleep for it.”

A look of terror made its way onto your face as you looked up at JJ, a small action that made the group laugh, a miniscule moment of lightheartedness after the unspoken loss.

“Okay,” JJ came down from his laughter. “Anybody know where we’re at?” 

“Deserted beach.” Pope shrugged, taking a seat next to Cleo. “Unknown island.”

“Alright, I’ll take that as a no.” JJ replied to Pope stating the obvious. “Plan A, huh, Pope? That went well.” JJ sassed, to which you lightly elbowed him in the side.

“This is the lowest we can go.” Pope said, sitting with his hands in his lap, hunched over. “We literally have nothing else to lose.” He laughed, humorlessly. “The cross, gone.”

“The gold, gone.” Sarah added calmly, yet sadly.

“Seriously, if we had a nickel for every time we got beat up, I’d say we’re at a dollar-fifty.” JJ threw out.

Kie shrugged, looking up at the fading cloud as the sunset. “That’s more than I got on me…”

“That somehow doesn’t make me feel better.” Sarah agreed.

“Hey, I’ve got a large coin slot on my leg if anyone wants to make donations.” You joked, earning head shakes at your morbid humor.

“Yeah,” John B finally spoke up. “You’re all right. But, I mean, we’ve…” He shrugged, eyeing all of you. “We’ve had some good stuff happen, right?” 

Pope scoffed. “Name something.”

“Um…” John B pondered, looking at the leaves of the trees. “Uh, the boiler room?” He concluded optimistically. Everyone just stared at him. “What? If the boiler didn’t explode, I wouldn’t have gotten away from Rafe. I couldn’t have gotten the Zodiac and gotten us out here.” He laid out a timeline of cause-and-effect.

“That wasn’t luck.” Cleo started, a knowing smile on her sun kissed face. “That thing was gonna blow the second I stopped feedin’ it.” 

“Stealin’ my thunder, Cleo…” John B said lowly. 

“Sorry.” The girl shrugged shortly. 

“Okay, Pope,” Your friend started again. “You’re related to Denmark Tanny.” He reminded, all of you making faces of agreement at this statement. “That’s crazy-”

“And I lost all his inheritance.” Pope said frustratedly, looking JB in the eyes. 

“...You know what?” John B stood from the log he was perched on. “Guys, this is it. This is the Pogue life.” He dreamed, walking closer to the shore. “We are in the Caribbean. It’s our own little slice of paradise. With my best friends, with my family…” He tried to reel you all in. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t wanna do it with anyone else.” He said, eyes mainly on Sarah. “Look, and while you guys were complaining about every little thing…” He trailed, walking over to you and JJ and kneeling in front of you both. “JJ?”

“Hm?” The blonde holding you hummed in response.

John B simply pointed behind himself and smiled, raising an eyebrow. “I was looking at those burly lefts.”

JJ eyed the water that his best friend was pointing to, trying to hide the smile on his features. “There’s some slabs out there, yeah.”

“Just a few?” John B poked, diverting his attention to someone else. “Kie, you see that? I know you wanna get out there.” He continued taunting. 

“No boards.” The girl rolled her eyes, a small smirk on her features.

“Well, we can…bodysurf ‘til we make some boards.”

She sighed, leaning back. “Lame.”

“Pope?” JB moved his attention once more. “Come on, man.”

“...They do look pretty tasty.” Pope admitted, still trying to hold onto his self-pity. 

“Oh, yes, they do.” The brunette smiled. 

“There’s nobody around.” Pope observed with squinted eyes. “We could squat here for a bit. Kind of belongs to us now, huh?”

“You got a point.” You added, breaking your silence. 

“Six-way split?” Pope inquired, doing a handshake with John B. 

“Poguelandia.” JJ started in a posh accent, smiles breaking out on all of your faces as your boyfriend gently removed himself from your side and repositioned you comfortably against the tree before standing to his full height.

“Oh boy.” John B groaned facetiously. 

“I claim thee Poguelandia.” He continued, leaning his arm against a tree with his swiss army knife in hand. “I like the ring of it.” He said, voice returning to normal. “I’m gonna make a flag, it’s gonna have a chicken on it. With a coconut bra, smokin’ a J...in Crocs.” He described, eliciting small laughs from everyone as they envisioned his soon-to-be work of art.

“I could use a J.” Kiara added.

“As long as you're sharing.” You joked with the girl. "Can't turn down the injured girl. Puff puff pass."

“Can we vote on this?” Sarah smiled.

“Shall we get to work?” Pope offered, talking mainly to JB who was right next to him. 

“...Let’s get to work.” He fist-bumped his friend. “Let’s start working on provisions. Set up shop.” They planned, walking into the thick of the trees. 

“Going full pogue?” JJ asked you, offering a hand to help you up as the others stood.

You smiled, rolling your eyes at him lovingly. “Going full pogue.” You joined, voice strained as you got up, putting as little weight on your leg as possible. The seven of you walked away from where you’d been camped out, leaving your first landmark behind with an ‘X’ to mark the spot, in the shape of ‘P4L’  carved into another tree.

Whatever happened back at home, or would happen, in Kildare, it worried you. You didn’t know what was going on or what would happen days from now, weeks…Months. But it was out of your control. And you weren't sure whether you hated that or loved it. Was “Poguelandia” a final moment of rest or the first step towards you and your friends retribution? 

As you walked, you suddenly remembered a quote John B told you that he got from his dad. It was from Euripides…

“The ocean washes away all the evil men do.”

…But you weren’t sure if that was necessarily true. Maybe, the ocean doesn’t truly “wash away” anything. If anything, the ocean makes you remember.

next chapter >

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

SVN Taglist; @esquivelbianca @fallingwallsh @calmoistorm @i-love-ptv @rafxcameronss @ldrvinyl @purplerose291 @heartsforandrewgarfield @coolgirl458 @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @jujubeaz @ellobruv-blog @libertyybellls @c4ttheart @ihe4rttwd @redhead1180 @ditzyzombiesblog @spideysimpossiblegirll @sex-me-stiles @honeyiti @rafedrewandjjs @highformaybank @broidfk609 @sophiahristov @boo22sstuff @yourmumstoy @belle101200 @maybankskiss @starrsea @avengersgirllorianna @sekidekiboombeki @wearemadeofstardust0 @supercxnt @ifilwtmfc @maybankslover @walkinginthegalaxy @rivaiken @liability28 @highformaybank @margo-lalam @cigaretteshoney-blog @ucannotcompare @kazunish @ilovemenwithlonghairr @obsimellon @rosesinbloom18 @drewswifeeee @zayndrider @multisection @grace-928 @sunndroppp @rafeysworldim19 @mirophobic

(striked means i am unable to tag you, please check your settings to see if you have mentions restricted or disabled xo)

©loveharlow.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Irresistible {6} || CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader, Max Verstappen x fem!reader Summary: Gossiping drivers, alcohol and Charlotte. What could possibly go wrong? Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, angst, cheating, kind of taboo (future stepbrother) WC: 4.9k F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven

Three weeks ago there had been an anonymous complaint raised about your presence in the paddock when you were nothing more than a spectator. Apparently an emotional support animal wasn’t an acceptable reason to travel with Charles and it didn’t take a genius to figure out who laid the complaint.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Charles asked as you placed a plate of food in front of him. 

“I’m getting paid to do what I would normally do anyway,” you pointed out once again. “And dad said I needed to get a job.”

You had been hired by Ferrari to work in the hospitality building; running food orders, making drinks, tidying the driver’s rooms. Okay, maybe the job was more than you would normally do, but not by much. At least you were kept busy and boredom no longer plagued you. 

“I didn’t realise you needed the money,” he murmured as he stabbed a seasoned chicken breast with his fork. His credit card in your handbag was yours to use however you wanted, he had assured you of that time and time again, and it was the only reason his apartment was furnished so brightly. You could never have done that on the measly savings in your bank account. 

“I don’t, but I’m not going back to Monaco on my own.” That was the consequence if you didn’t become an employee, at least while the Covid restrictions were in place. 

“Hmm, god knows what trouble you would get up to there on your own,” he chuckled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Something had been off about him all morning, but you knew he would talk about it when he was ready so you let it drop.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” you said with a wink as you leaned closer and laid a napkin on his lap. “I believe you called me a good girl just last night.”

You left the dining area before he could respond and met Sebastian at the beverage station. He was another of the drivers you had befriended, though much like he was to Charles, it was more in a father-figure role. The German was a gentle soul and you always had time for him, even when he called you out for the feelings you thought you were able to conceal in public.

“You wear your heart on your sleeve,” he commented as you made his coffee - double shot espresso with a dollop of froth, no sugar. 

“You obviously need this coffee to wake you up, Bassy, you are clearly dreaming,” you said as you placed it in front of him and showed your bare arms. “I have no sleeves.”

Sebastian smiled as he lifted the cup to his lips, the words entertaining him but not fooling him. “There is a little get together tonight with some of the other drivers. I think everyone is feeling a little isolated from society right now and could do with socialising. You should come.”

You gave a noncommittal shrug because you weren’t sure if Charles would be one of those other drivers, he hadn’t mentioned anything to you. “Maybe, it depends how busy I am picking up your dirty laundry.”

“My wife trained me well, maybe you are thinking of the wrong room.” He placed the empty mug down and departed with a wink. 

The rest of the day passed quickly and you made yourself comfortable in Charles’ room while you waited for him to finish his media duties. It wasn’t unexpected that he took longer since it was the first of the two Italian GPs, he had given you warning that the team’s homerace would be more hectic. Pierre was the first to invite himself in, lounging on the other seat wanting to know the gossip around the paddock. 

“Don’t lie, I know the best gossip comes from the kitchens,” he begged when you said there was nothing of interest. 

“What can I say? Everyone is tight lipped after Nora and Damien caught covid.”

That had been the hottest gossip of the week because Nora was from Renault and Damien from Racing Point. Both teams were still arguing over who gave it to who and there were talks of suspension because they were sneaking into each other’s rooms instead of isolating. 

“Ah bon,” he huffed. “Are you coming tonight?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t had a chance to ask Charles what the plan is,” you answered as you checked your phone again to see no messages and the afternoon was dragging. “What is taking him so long?”

“You’re waiting here for him?” Pierre frowned as he sat up a little straighter. “He was heading back to the hotel after he finished, he had to go pick up Charlotte from the airport.”

You tried to police your face but from the pity on Pierre’s it was clear you failed to hide the disappointment, shock and betrayal. Charles had been quieter in the last few days but everything you asked what was wrong he said nothing and then distracted you.

“Sorry, I thought you knew and that’s why you were still hiding out here.” He stood up and reached into the pocket of his Toro Rosso jacket to grab his car keys. “Wanna catch a ride with me?”

You didn’t really want to go back to the hotel room you had been sharing with Charles but had no idea where else you could go. You definitely needed to change out of the Ferrari uniform you wore but you didn’t want to see Charlotte if you could help it. Why was she even here?

“I don’t know, but from his mood I’m guessing Charles didn’t invite her.”

You didn’t realise you had asked that aloud and you concentrated on your shoes as you stood up and followed him out to the carpark. You almost asked him to turn around and take you back to the paddock but there would probably be more gossip spread if you slept in Charles’ driver’s room instead of the hotel.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said as you stepped out of Pierre’s car. 

“No problem. Text me if you want a ride to the party.”

You weren’t exactly in the mood to party but the idea of liquor was growing on you so you said maybe and departed. Walking into the hotel, you passed the designer stores that lined the first two floors and felt the black credit card calling, but it was probably the devil whispering in your ear. And not for the first time you listened. 

Charles checked his phone as he received another notification from his bank. One part of him was pleased to know you were at least near the hotel since the charges were to the shops below, but a larger part was sick knowing you were lashing out because of the message he had left in your room down the hall. 

The shower turned off as his phone vibrated again and a bitter laugh bubbled at the $50k debit he saw for Prada before Charlotte appeared from the bathroom. There was a time before you showed up back in his life where he found her beautiful but now he could only imagine your face when he held her. He really had to do something about this because no matter how disinterested or rude he was, she ignored it to remain in his life. Looking away as she reached the bed, he returned his focus to his phone and sent a message to the person he actually wanted to be with.

The hotel room was silent when you finally built up the courage to leave the shops and take the elevator to the higher floors. The housekeepers had swept through and placed everything back where it belonged except for one square sheet of hotel-embossed paper.

Charlotte is here so I will be staying with her for the week. I’m sorry, I couldn’t bring myself to tell you in person. Love, Charles x

You sneered at the paper as your phone vibrated. “Love, my ass.”

Charles: Ma biche, if you are trying to bankrupt me you are going to have to do better than that. 

You: I just want to look good for the party tonight. Never know who I might take back to my room.

You slammed the stack of receipts down beside the note and went to see that his bags were gone from the bedroom. Your lip curled back in disgust and you tore the protective sheath off the little black dress you had purchased with his money. If he was going to be a coward then he would suffer the consequences of it. You were sick of waiting for them to break up, maybe their delusions for a perfect image actually made them perfect for each other.

Charles slammed his phone onto the bedside drawer and pushed Charlotte’s advancing hands away. “I’m not in the mood.”

Rolling her eyes, she settled amongst the pillows and crossed her arms. “You’re never in the mood anymore.”

“Whatever, just get dressed,” Charles ordered as he kicked his suitcase over before unzipping it and grabbing a clean set of clothes. “We’re going out.”

“I just got here.”

“So? It’s a party.” He didn’t even glance her way as he pulled his Ferrari shirt over his head and replaced it with a plain white t-shirt before moving onto his jeans. 

“Will Y/N be there?”

Charles’ foot caught in the legging and he nearly tipped over. “I don’t know,” he lied.

Charlotte knew him well enough to know when he was lying, or telling half truths - those were almost as common as breathing to him lately. 

–

Since social gatherings were frowned upon, the group had met in a large field that the motorhomes parked in near the Monza track. A roughly cut metal oil drum glowed with a fire and golden embers floated off into the evening light as you navigated your way in new heels to the circle of couches around it. 

“I think I overdressed,” you joked to Pierre as a dozen pairs of eyes flickered your way. There was no denying that you looked amazing, but you were more suited for the red carpet than a backyard bonfire. You should have gone with jeans and a shirt like Pierre wore when he picked you up.

“I think you look beautiful,” Max said with a smile as he shifted on his seat to make space for you. “You can sit here.”

You returned the smile and carefully stepped over the legs outstretched to warm by the fire. One pair of eyes burned into you but you pointedly ignored him as he sat opposite the flames with Charlotte on his lap. You stood in front of Max and put your hands on your hips as you cocked an eyebrow at the narrow space between him and the armrest. 

“I have caught you checking out my ass enough times, Verstappen, you know it’s not going to fit there,” you said with a smirk. 

An annoyed humph came from beyond the flames and Charles started to push Charlotte to her feet. “I’ll get you a seat.”

“She can sit here,” Max reiterated as he spread his legs back to get comfortable in his chair and patted his thigh.

“Mate…”

“Such a gentleman.” You turned on your heel, meeting the furious Monegasque whose eyes reflected the fire that was burning within him too. You held his steely gaze as you lowered yourself down onto Max’s lap, feeling the form fitting dress that barely covered your thighs ride even higher. 

“I didn’t think so many of you guys would actually be here,” you said as you draped an arm over Max’s shoulder to help balance on your perch. His arm curled around your back so his hand rested lazily on your hip and his eyes darted to Charles, the blue hue almost screaming at him, ‘what a fool’. 

“I only came for you,” Max admitted as he tore his eyes away to look at you. Those eyes narrowed and he brushed he cupped your face, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “You’re wearing makeup. Why?”

You frowned, wondering if maybe the makeup artist had done a terrible job and Max shook his head. “You look beautiful,” he assured you as he saw the worry-lines crease your forehead. “You always look beautiful, but you don’t need makeup, schat.”

 You didn’t correct him on the endearment and he seemed to take it as a victory as his smile grew wider. Maybe you would have reminded him of the rules on friendship before the interruption, or maybe you would have just tucked the wayward strand of dirty blonde hair back where it had fallen over his face. 

“I’m glad you made it,” Seb said, breaking the tension as he leaned over a cooler and offered a bottle of Jagermeister. “You look like you could use this.”

“Thanks,” you chuckled as you cracked the cap off. “You could have given me a little more information about this ‘party’.”

“Where is the fun in that?” Kimi muttered to himself as he sipped vodka from a teacup. The white china and blue glaze depicted an ancient scene and you stared at it as you took a swig straight from the bottle. Disgust screwed up your face at the taste before shivering, making both of the older men laugh. 

“Ugh, I’ll take the rocket fuel please.” You didn’t give Kimi a chance to pull away as you stole the teacup and handed him the dark green bottle instead, though you were sure with those driver reflexes he could have moved if he wanted to. “That’s better,” you sighed as you tasted the drink to find it was a vodka lemonade mix. “I thought you would drink this stuff straight.”

“I’m not Russian,” he said as he jutted his chin across to Daniil who was in fact drinking pure vodka with Daniel, though the latter was coughing thanks to it. Reaching into the cooler, glass and ceramic clattered before he settled back into his foldout lawn chair with another china teacup that you didn’t bother to question.

Conversations between the drivers flowed, voices cresting and receding with the topics they were passionate about. Your stomach sloshed with alcohol and your body relaxed against Max’s, his smile growing when you rested your cheek on his head as you listened to him talk about the first thing he would do when the restrictions were lifted. It was to go to his friend’s concert, Martin Garrix to be specific.

“No fucking way,” Pierre laughed. “Not this again!”

You lifted your head and peered across the circle to where George and Alex were arguing over the suggested game of Truth or Dare.

“What are you? Prepubescent teenagers?” you teased as Alex took a pro-stance on playing. 

“No, Lando only looks it,” George joked.

“Hey!” The young McLaren driver spluttered with an indignant laugh. “Rude.”

“Leave little Lando alone. He got his first pube just last week,” Daniel chimed in before adding, “I’ll play. Max?”

Max shrugged with a quiet, “Sure.”

Alex grinned wider and elbowed George. “See, it’s fun.”

The younger half of the drivers around the circle started the game, daring each other to do silly little things that their PR teams would frown at or confiding the secrets they answered for a truth. Your ribs hurt from laughing until Daniel called your name. 

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” you replied just so you didn’t have to get up from your cosy spot on Max’s lap. 

“Have you kissed a driver here?”

Charlotte’s eyes narrowed on you through the flames and you grinned at Daniel as you combed your fingers into the short hair at Max’s nape. “Yes.”

“Who?” Daniel looked at Max, Pierre and Charles before returning to Max.

Your head tipped back with a laugh. “That’s not how the game works, Danny. It’s not your turn anymore. It’s mine. Max?”

“Hmm, yes?” he hummed as he looked into your eyes.

“Truth or dare?”

He debated the option for a moment before exhaling. “Dare.”

“I dare you to take me out.”

“You didn’t need a game for that,” he chuckled. “When?”

“Breakfast, tomorrow.” You leaned in and brushed your lips over his cheeks that flushed pink an instant after you whispered in his ear. “We could even make it breakfast in bed.”

You hadn’t noticed Charles had left his seat until you heard his voice beside you, plonking himself down on the cooler while he sparked up a pointless conversation with Seb. 

“Charles, truth or dare?” Max asked, noticing how still your body went and the stiffening of your spine. 

Charles turned slowly, his eyes drifting over the space where your body met Max’s and a sneer tugged at his lips. “I don’t play childish games.”

“Just the adult kind, right?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said with that innocent smile that had fooled you. 

“Of course you don’t.” Max turned his attention to the fire pit and the woman sitting on her own, attempting to hold an air of carefree relaxation despite her gaze always returning to you with a scowl. “Charlotte, truth or dare?”

“Max.” You jumped at the sharp bite to Charles’ reprimand but Max didn’t even glance his way as he waited for the woman to choose.

“Dare.”

“I dare you to finish Kyvat’s drink.”

Pierre’s teammate grinned as he offered the tumbler that was half full of vodka. To give her credit, she only winced with the first swallow but she downed the spirit and cocked an eyebrow that challenged Max, is that all you have for me?

A cruel smile tipped up and she licked the drop of alcohol that clung to her lips, the burn of the vodka quickly hitting her veins and travelling to her head. “My turn.”

Charles abandoned his conversation when Charlotte called your name and the slight shake of his head warned you not to answer. 

But he had pissed you off.

“Truth.”

The choice echoed around the circle as everyone fell silent. Pressure brewed like a lightning storm approaching and everyone felt the charged atmosphere.

Charlotte closed her eyes and took a deep breath before opening them, staring you dead in the eye as she found the courage she had been missing for months. “How long have you been fucking my boyfriend?”

Max’s fingers stopped drawing abstract circles on your hip and Charles burst to his feet. “Charlotte!”

“What? It’s just a game, Cha,” she replied with a bland look of boredom. 

“It’s not appropria-”

“3 years,” you cut him off, your eyes never leaving hers. If she wanted the truth then she could have it. “The 8th of August 2017, if you want to count the precise days.”

“What?” Confused murmurs broke around the fire.

“Oh, shit,” Pierre laughed as he looked closer at you then to his friend who had frozen still. “She’s that chick you hooked up with at Jimmyz?”

Charles dragged a hand down his face but ended it with a nod before turning to his girlfriend. “It was before us, mon amour.” 

The way he said it made it appear it was only before they got together, ever the liar, and even you rolled your eyes.

“So you two…and your parents…” Kimi whistled before keeping his mouth busy with a drink. He was quietly enjoying the brimming heat too much for someone nicknamed the Iceman.

“My father was out getting a haircut-“

“-at my mother’s salon-“

“-when we met. I guess they kept in contact after we left.”

Charles turned his attention to Charlotte but she was already storming her way across the field. With a sigh, he made his way after her and you wondered if it was finally the day that you had been holding out for, the one where she would dump him. 

“She should have asked when you last fucked him.” The words were a whisper in your ear as everyone else returned to their own conversations, the game clearly over, but you knew those conversations were about you. Max sensed your discomfort, though even a blind man would have been able to see it. “Want to get out of here?”

“You still want to go somewhere with me?” It seemed unbelievable that he hadn’t thrown you off his lap.

“Everyone has a history,” Max said with a shrug. “I don’t care about your past…just your future.”

You left without a goodbye under the watchful eye of Seb but you didn’t miss the elbow George gave Alex, muttering sarcastically, “Oh yeah, let’s play truth or dare, he said, it will be fun, he said.”

“I didn’t know that was going to happen.” The angry whisper of a reply followed your departure and it seemed Alex was the only one too innocent to see what had been in front of them all along. 

Charles' car was already missing from the makeshift parking lot and you slipped into the passenger seat of Max’s Aston Martin before he closed the door for you. 

“Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know, can we just drive? I feel like a fucking idiot,” you laughed bitterly. All the memories made with Charles seemed to crumble like sandcastles with the tide as you remembered how he had chased after her. He always did, and it seemed he always would. Actions screamed louder than words. “He’s really not who I thought he was.”

“I’ve known Charles most of his life and I don’t think he even knows who he is,” Max said as he laced his fingers with yours and headed to the city. “Are you hungry?”

“No, but I have a full mini bar that is getting billed to Charles. Want to help me empty it?”

Max shared a conspiratorial grin as he headed to the hotel and when you walked past Charles’ room down the hall, it didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. 

“What are you doing?” Max asked with a laugh as you hung the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the front door. You closed the door and leant against it, Max’s eyes following the curve of the Chanel dress, down the length of your legs to the Prada shoes and back up to the Bvlgari diamond necklace that accentuated the valley of your breasts.

“Making sure this party doesn’t get crashed.” 

—

It was a miracle there had been no complaint made as you turned the stereo up and pretended you knew how to mix drinks. 

“Max!” You fell into a fit of laughter as he poured four of the miniature gin bottles into the cocktail shaker, adding it to the three bottles of vodka you had put in. “That is pure alcohol.” 

He shook the container and poured the clear liquid into two glasses, spilling some as he reached the same level of drunkenness as you. “No, it’s just water. Here, taste it.” He tipped his glass back, his face pinching before he blew out a burst of burning air from his throat and spluttered a cough. “Mhmm, good water that.”

“You’re trying to get me drunk,” you shouted over the pounding in your head, but you knocked the drink back anyway. 

“You’re already drunk,” he countered, dropping into the couch and pulling you down with him. Empty bottles littered the coffee table and the dining table, the expensive mini bar almost empty. “I’m just keeping you that way.”

You settled on his lap and fingered the dirty blonde hair that was longest at the top of his head. “Is that so you can have your way with me?”

His eyes danced over your body, lingering on your thighs as your dress barely covered them. “No, schat,” he said with a small shake of his head as he cupped your face. “When I have you I want you to know that you chose me, clear headed and completely sober. Even if I really just want to fucking kiss you right now.”

You drew your lip between your teeth at the thought and his blue eyes darkened with envy. “We could just kiss?” you suggested as you shifted to straddle his hips.

“I don’t think it would be that easy to just stop there.”

“Fine.” Your hands stroked the column of his neck, feeling the cords of muscle that tensed under your touch before you traced his collarbones with your thumbs. “Truth or dare?”

He inhaled sharply and tipped his head back, watching intently as you popped the first button on his shirt and opened the collar wider. He didn't appear to breathe as you kissed the hollow at the base of his throat. He exhaled, knowing what you wanted to hear, “Dare.”

Your teeth grazed his racing pulse and he shuddered beneath you before you pulled back. “I dare you to kiss me.”

Perhaps it took having the flame of Charles extinguished for you to feel the spark of Max because this time when he pulled you close and captured you with a kiss you felt that spark ignite. 

—

You looked around the parking lot seeing all the other mothers dropping their children off for the first day of school. They all kissed their kids on the cheeks after a tight hug and said their goodbyes, complete with teary I love you’s. Confused, you frowned at the large hand that gripped your school bag and followed the arm up to your father. 

“Daddy, why isn’t my mummy here?”

He had known the question was coming, he just didn’t think it would be from his five year old. He thought he had more time to prepare as he dropped to one knee and held your hands. “Your mother was sick and she needed to leave so she could get better.”

“But she never came back.”

“Sometimes, that’s what’s for the best.” He kissed your forehead and draped your backpack over your shoulders, the weight more than just the lunchbox and books it carried. “But you know what?”

“What?”

“I will always be here for you, pumpkin.”

You woke in a cold sweat and felt the haunting thought the dream had inspired linger in your brain as you slipped out of the sheets. Beside you, Max slept soundly with one hand buried under a pillow and the other stretched across the bed as if he was searching for you. 

You didn’t regret sleeping with Max, though part of you felt he surely would, and you watched his back rise and fall a few times as you dressed. You were busy trying to write a note, tearing off each piece that failed to convey what you wanted to say and balling it up, that you didn’t hear Max’s footsteps. You jumped in surprise as his hands came to rest on your hips and his lips teased the same sweet spot beneath your ear that he had found last night. 

“Going somewhere?” he asked as he saw your bags by the door and he saw the latest attempt of a note. Max, thank you for last night. How about a raincheck on our-

“I think it's time to go home,” you admitted as you turned in his arms and draped yours around his neck. “Because the next time we do this, I want you to know that I chose you, clear headed and completely sober.”

He chuckled, surprised you could remember what he said. Then his own hungover haze lifted and he realised what else you said. “Next time?”

“I still want you to take me to breakfast,” you assured him with a smile. “How about you call me when you’re back in Monaco?”

“It’s a date.” He tipped your head back and kissed you with the same passion that left your toes curling and your body warmed with the memory of how that kiss had led to much more last night. But Max was sober and more in control of himself as he reluctantly broke away first.  “Do you want me to take you to the airport?”

“No, thank you, I’m going to drive back. Take a bit of time to myself and figure my shit out.”

Max frowned. “You don’t have a car.”

“Yet,” you said with a wink. “But if the offer for a ride is still on the table…there is somewhere you can drop me off.”

—

Charles woke to a call from his bank and he swallowed deeply as he listened to the request to release $250k to a dealership. There was only one reason you would buy a car and the thought left him feeling empty as the bed he woke up alone in. It was a surprise there was no noise complaint after the argument he had with Charlotte, the one where he snapped and broke things off. She had left in a rage and he didn’t have the decency to ask where she went. 

He had gone to your room, his feet carrying him light on a breeze as he finally had what he wanted. But then he had seen the Do Not Disturb sign on the door, and heard your laughter sneak through the panel of wood that separated him from where he should have been. 

Sitting up in bed, he wiped away the tears that had dried on his cheeks overnight. 

“Yes, allow the payment to proceed,” he muttered, though the sound of his voice was no longer one he recognised. 

Charles: Drive safe, ma biche x You: I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you in person.  Charles: I guess I deserved that.

Click here for the final chapter.

[chrissgirl4ever]

GAMES - MATT x READER

Warning: SMUTT!!

Play song for the vibeee!!

Have fun!~ ;)

I'm currently at the triplet's house. The sun is setting, casting a beautiful orange hue to the living room where we all are sitting, drinking some drinks, and just talking. The music in the background isn't loud but I can hear it clearly.

"I'm bored, let's do something fun," Matt says looking down into his half-empty cup. "Well I don't have any ideas," Chris shrugs his shoulders. "I have an amazing idea," Nick yells, startling me. "Nick, you scared me, I almost spilled my drink," I say out loudly slapping his shoulder. "Please ask me what my idea is, please, please, please," Nick tries to plead to make us ask him what his idea is.

"So what is ur 'amazing' idea?" I ask looking at him with a serious face. "We're all gonna play twister," Nick says ecstatically clapping his hands together like a kid. "No Nick, we are not playing twister, we're not five," Matt says annoyed. "Oh look I'm Matt, I'm so tuff and boring, I don't like to have fun," Nick mocks Matt, making me and Chris laugh.

"Well I don't know about y'all, but I'm tipsy, there's no way I could play twister right now," Matt says tugging on the collar of his black t-shirt, his eyes from across the room to meet mine, sending butterflies to my stomach.

I've always had a little crush on Matt, but I never really did anything about it, because I didn't want to ruin the friendship between us. I mean yeah, sure I would sometimes tease him, wearing something revealing, making his eyes wander to places they shouldn't, for example, today, I was wearing short, low-waisted shorts and a small leopard print baby tee, but I knew that, me doing something with Matt would probably change the dynamics of the group as a whole, so I left it as is, hoping my crush on Matt would sooner or later die down.

"You're just scared that you'll lose, so I have a proposition, whoever loses takes a shot of vodka," Nick says proudly. "That's the dumbest thing I have heard in my life," Matt says crossing his arms. "Well, as far as I know, five-year-olds can't drink vodka, so who's the five-year-old now huh?" Nick defends his idea. "We all are a bit tipsy so the chances of you winning are fair, you're just a pussy," Nick says trying to provoke Matt. "Yeah Matt, don't be a pussy," Chris joins in. "Okay, that's it, we're playing, and I'm going to win," Matt says and smiles confidently. Nick claps his hands excitedly as he stands up and walks to the pile of board games that are stacked on a shelf above the TV.

"Found it! Y'all are going down, I hope y'all like the taste of losing, because y'all are gonna be licking the L's shortly," Nick says with a devious smile. "Okay, this one's clearly had more than enough to drink," Matt says as he facepalms.

Nick sets up the game, laying the playing pad down on the floor and placing the spinner next to the mat. "So, who wants to go first?" Nick says grinning. "I'll go," Chris answers and bends down to spin the indicator. "Right foot on red." He says out loud and steps on the playing mat. We all take our turns and the game is starting to get intense.

"Nick you are going to lose," Matt says his voice getting higher at the end of the sentence. The poses we are in are criminal. We are four, grown adults standing on this little mat, meant for children. At this point in the game, the slightest movement could make us all fall down. "Chris, you look like a deformed frog," I say as I'm laughing, almost snorting. Chris's right foot is still on red, his left foot is on blue, his right hand on blue, in front of his left leg, and his left hand is in front of his right leg. Nick is chilling in a comfortable position, meanwhile, I'm stretched out, so close to fall.

We all spin a few times. When all of a sudden Chris loses his balance and falls. "Hah, it wasn't even your turn, you're out, take a shot," Nick yells, happy that he's still in the game. "This is so annoying, 100 bucks on Nick falling next," Chris says as he takes a shot of vodka. I'm now in a compromising position, both of my hands are on red and my feet are on green and yellow, my position is leaving my ass high up in the air. Nick is now barely staying in the game.

"Nick it's your turn," Chris says out loudly, the alcohol he's had, making him unaware of the volume he's speaking in. Nick spins the spinner, "right hand green," Chris says. As Nick tried to move his hand, he lost his balance and fell. "Fuck," he yells out as he stands up. "Where my money at?" Chris says as he hands Nick a shot of vodka.

"Spin it," I say to Matt, and he does. "Left hand red," I say and Matt starts to move his left hand. Now both of his hands need to be on red and the only place in order for him not to fall is on either side of my hands. As he moves over me he brushes against my ass making me lose my balance slightly. Placing his hand next to mine, his head is now next to mine, "sorry," he says quietly, his hot breath brushing against my skin, sending shivers down my spine.

It's now my turn and if I don't think of something quickly, I'm going to lose. I look over my shoulder to see what Chris and Nick are doing, they are currently in the kitchen getting some drinks. My lips move making a small grin, this is perfect.

As I reach for the spinner, I pop up my ass, making it brush against Matt's crotch. "Right hand red, looks like I'm safe for now," I say as I turn to Matt, a smirk appearing on my lips.

After taking my turn, I move back, again brushing against his crotch, now feeling something hard. "Don't do that," Matt says in an almost moaning tone. "Do what?" I say looking at him. "Don't try to act all innocent," he says in a serious tone. "It's your turn," I say, a smile plastered on my face.

Matt takes his turn and spins the spinner, "left foot green," He says, looking at the spinner. As he tries to move, I once again pop up my ass, making him brush against it once again, the tension on his crotch getting too much for him, making him lose his balance and he falls. "Ha, I win," I say as I stand up clapping my hands together. Nick and Chris rush over to the living room.

"Did Matt lose?" Nick asks. "Yeah because she cheated," he says, anger and frustration can be heard in his voice. "What did I do, that counts as cheating?" I ask, raising one eyebrow, as a smirk creeps on my lips again, knowing he can't say anything without explaining him further. "Nothing," Matt murmurs. "What's that? I couldn't hear you," I tease him. "I said, nothing," Matt raises his voice, standing up and storming off to his room.

"I am too drunk for this," Chris says throwing up his hands as he turns around and heads to his room. "Can you help me clean this up?" I ask Nick, and he nods kneeling down.

We cleaned everything up and put the game back in its place. "You ready to head to bed?" Nick asks. "You go, I'm going to come later, I'm going to check on Matt," I say as I start walking to Matt's room. "Goodnight Nick," I say smiling. "Goodnight." He answers.

Without knocking I open the door to Matt's room. "Hey, you okay?" I ask as I look at him. He's sitting on the edge of his bed looking straight at me. "I was waiting for you to come in, want to play a game?" Matt says. "Sure, what game?" I ask unsure what game he had planned.

"Since we're playing games, let's play a game you can't cheat in," he says a smirk creeping on his lips. "Simon says, close the door," Matt says. Oh shit, we're already playing. I close the door not moving an inch. "Simon says turn around and lock the door," his voice getting deeper. I do as he says. "Simon says turn back around and stand in front of me," he says. As I turn around, about to walk in front of Matt, my eyes meet his, his eyes grow dark and his lips form a slight grin.

"Simon says strip," he says his tone getting even deeper, a hint of lust accompanying his voice. "What?" I ask, my voice slightly trembling. "You heard me, Simon says strip," he repeats. I start off by taking off my baby tee throwing it on the ground leaving my upper body fully naked. I slip out of my shorts, letting them fall to my ankles before stepping out of them. I pick up my head to look at Matt, he stares me up and down licking his lips.

He stands up and walks closer to me, his hands move my hair to one side of my shoulder, then proceeds to leave a wet kiss on the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. His hand reaches over my body, touching my neck as he stands behind me "Left hand red." He says as slides his hand down my neck stopping at my breast. He massages my boob, pulling on my nipple making me moan.

"You like that?" He whispers in my ear. I don't answer. "Simon says answer," Matt says as his other hand slides down into my panties, pressing his finger against my clit before rubbing circles, making me moan. "Yes Matt I like that," I say as I throw back my head resting it on Matt's shoulder. He pulls out his hand, "Simon says turn around," Matt says and as soon as I do, he smashes his lips onto mine.

Matt wraps his hand around my waist taking small steps, leading us to his bed without breaking the kiss. I brush against his clothed cock, rubbing it slightly before I feel a slap on my hand making me break the kiss, I look up. "Nuh uh," Matt says shaking his finger, "Simon didn't say," he smirks and pulls his black t-shirt over his head throwing it to the ground next to my clothes.

He removes his belt, sliding it out of the belt loops of his oversized jean shorts, making them slide down a little, revealing the band of his boxers. He looks at me before moving his gaze to my hands.

"Simon says, extend your hands." His voice was demanding, I brought out my hands, and he grabbed them and put them together before wrapping and tying them together with his belt.

Matt puts his hand on my hips pushing them back, guiding me backward. As I take steps backward, I eventually fall on his bed. He crawls on top of me, spreading my legs with his knee, making space for himself.

He yanks up my hands by the tied belt, pinning them above my head, immediately, Matt attacks my neck with his lips, leaving a trail of kisses from my neck to my breasts, he kisses softly, slipping in a few bites. His hand slides up my thigh, stopping at my heat, his thumb starts to draw circles on my clit.

"Matt," I moan out. "Shhh, we don't want Nick or Chris hearing us do we?" He says looking up at me, taking his lips off of my breast. I shake my head in response and he smirks, "good girl," he says as he continues to rub circles on my clit his lips now moving back from my breast to my collarbone to my jaw before meeting my lips.

"Matt," I moan out as I try to pull my hands out of his grip. "Matt what?" He says as his hands push harder on mine, making sure I can't move. "Please, I need you," I whimper. He lets go of my hands and pulls away from my clit, making me let out a whimper from the loss of contact.

I immediately bring my hands down to my clit and start rubbing circles on my clit, pleasuring myself. As he unbuttons his jeans, he notices my hands, he grabs and pins them above my head again. "Are you gonna make me punish you?" He says his voice filthy and dark. "No," I say, shaking my head and looking at him. "Yeah, be a good girl for me," Matt says practically growling.

I move up and down my hips trying to get some relief as I watch him undo his jean shorts pulling them down, his boxers with them making his cock spring out, hitting his lower abdomen, precum glistening on his tip. Matt looks at me, "see what your little strategy to win did to me," he says raising his eyebrow.

"Please Matt, I can't take it anymore," I say as I scoot closer. Matt moves on top of me pinning my hands again, his other hand sliding my panties to the side before aligning himself with my heat. He pushes his cock in slowly before pulling it out almost completely, then pushing back in hard. "Oh- my- god- Matt-" I moan out between thrusts, his hand moving over my mouth to muffle my moans.

Matt fastens his thrusts, with each thrust going in deeper, making me moan out loud, he leans into my ear. "That's it, sweetheart, take my cock so good," Matt growls, pushing in me deeper than ever, his tip hitting my g-spot with every thrust. "Mmmm Matt you feel so good, I'm close," I moan out feeling my climax creeping up tension building in my stomach.

Matt moves his elbow next to my head, positioning himself so he's able to thrust even deeper. I arch my back as the pleasure takes over my body. His quiet moans landed in my ear, his hot breath sending me over the edge.

"Matt, I'm about to cum," I moan out. He smashes his lips onto mine in order to contain my moans as he plants a few more thrusts before I feel my walls tighten around his length, feeling the knot in my stomach releasing, my climax coming over me, I moan into the kiss. His hips continue to move as he thrusts in me a few more times before planting his cum inside me groaning, breaking the kiss.

He pulls out falling next to me, turning his head to look at me. "Who won?" He says smirking. "I did," I answer smiling, knowing this will piss him off. "Can you untie me?" I say as I shake my hands. "You didn't say Simon says," Matt answers teasing me back. "Simon says round two," I say as a devilish smirk appears on my lips.

I guess I won't be heading to Nick's room tonight.

[deadsetobsessions]

Bestie sent me a tiktok by @craycrayglitterbug. Thanks for driving all this way to visit me~

——

It was the beginning of Gotham’s Summer seasonal aggression week, which was the city’s own version of seasonal depression limited to one week where instead of getting depressed, Gothamites got pissed off.

They had one for each season. Spring’s seasonal aggression week coincided with the first release of pollen from the surrounding plants, aggravated by Ivy’s proclivity towards increasing plant growth in her forest. Since most people weren’t actually pissed off enough to bring smoke to a Rogue (Ivy got strongly worded mail though), they took it out on each other. The Bats broke off more street brawls and knife fights during this season, all the while handing out tissues and anti-allergy medicine to red-nosed, puffy eyed people.

Fall… well, that week was Halloween. Enough said. Scarecrow, committed to his bit, was the most active this season. In the same vein, Spoiler and Red Robin were on the scene more often than not during this season. Gas masks and a bat were popular accessories during this season.

Winter meant Penguin and Mr. Freeze became more active, having a natural advantage in Winter. Like Pokémon, but instead of being cute, they’re busy being menaces to society and Gotham’s already fraying threads of sanity.

The Joker is terrible all year round. Fish fear him, insurance policies want him, and Red Hood tries to go for his throat every time he makes an appearance. Such were the unchangeable facts of Gotham’s hellish landscape.

Summer, though. Summer was the worst of the four seasons for seasonal aggression. The other three could generally be avoided with a modicum of luck, but Summer’s heat was unavoidable. Normally, stone architecture such as those that Gotham sported would aid in the ventilation of the city. It was not so for the normally clouded over metropolis. Instead, the curse that Gotham was built upon had adapted to modernity. Now, for exactly one week, the city had sweltering heat at night and day, inside or outside. The pavement could cook eggs, and the marble inside banks sometimes were so hot that people had to flood it with water to avoid burning their fingertips. Some of the buildings had cutting edge AC, thank you Wayne Enterprises, that the curse had yet to adapt to. They were popular spots and silently agreed upon to be protected from the usual shenanigans and robberies.

At night, the heat cools enough to be a natural irritant instead of miserably bringing people to heat exhaustion.

This is where we find two of the more active members of the vigilante scenes during this season:

The Red Hood, and the Batman.

To be fair, Batman is active all season, but summer called for more reinforcements than normal.

Red Hood made sure his Alley had access to clean water, shade, and handed out relief to the less fortunate inhabitants. He also cracked down on the fools that tried his rules, not killing them because the Seasonal Aggression led to seasonal stupidity more often than not and he couldn’t exactly blame criminals for doing crime. He can, however, blame them for breaking his rules while doing said crimes.

Batman covered the city, helping irritated children find their way back to equally irritated but worried mothers walking him at night, taking down rogues, and disarming the numerous pipe bombs people built out of aggravation.

Though the vigilantes had thermoregulated suits, they were not immune to seasonal aggression.

“What the fuck, old man?!” Jason shouted through his helmet as Bruce took down the goon Jason was gunning for.

“Hm,” Bruce grunted back, ducking low to kick another goon in the chest.

Jason shot the last one in the foot and slammed his fist into their face as they dropped in pain.

“What the hell are you doing in my territory?!”

Bruce, unable to say he missed Jason and unwilling to get shot should he even hint at telling his son that he swung by to check on him, simply grunted.

“Oh, well fuck you too, you overgrown rat!” Jason scowled, holstering his guns. He knew how riled up he could get on a regular patrol. A patrol on hell week stood no chance of ever ending peacefully. He’d better stow away his guns so Bruce doesn’t walk home with a couple of noticeable dents in his Kevlar. Alfred would be upset if that happened. “You want to start shit? Fuck you, I’ll start shit first!”

Batman opened his mouth- whether to reprimand him or deny the accusations, the world will never know- but Jason cut him off.

“Okay, your suit? Whack. Your parenting skills? Whack,” Jason quickly spat out, the built in voice changer changing it to sound even more growly. “Your taste in literature? Abysmal. Don’t even get me started on your hypocrisy!”

“Hood-”

“You know what? I will get started on your hypocrisy! The Joker straight up murdered one of your kids! I was your kid! You said- you said that you loved me!”

Jason, who had thought he had moved past this despite not putting in the work to do so and refused to work through his emotions in anyway that wasn’t murdering someone or crying on Jane Austen novels, had in fact not moved past this. Unsurprisingly, Bruce wasn’t the best model for self care and healthy coping mechanisms. And despite Jason’s vehement objections to being compared to Bruce in anyway, being like Bruce in anyway, the fact of the matter is that eventually, all of Bruce’s kids will inevitably have a facet of themselves turn out like him.

“I do!” Bruce objected, the heat getting to his head and making it easier to actually express any form of emotion that was not mildly related to Justice.

A goon groaned, but Jason knocked him out again with a swift blow to the head before turning and pointing an accusing finger at Batman.

“If you loved me, why didn’t you kill the Joker?!” Jason screamed, punting the unconscious body of a goon against the HVAC. He took off his helmet and hurled it at Batman. Jason jabbed a thumb at his masked face, pointing out the myriad of raised scars on his face. “Look at me! I’m- I have scars! And they never stop hurting! I had to fucking dig myself out of my grave because he killed me and I was unfortunate enough to be dragged back!”

“Jaylad-”

Jason snarled, stalking closer and shoving Bruce back. Bruce allowed it, his head pounding with the heat.

“You couldn’t save me, fine! But fuck, you let Gotham pay the price for letting him live! This is the third Joker group we’ve downed this week! People died, B! Good, innocent people and scumbags! You could have killed him! You could have stopped him! All of this,” Jason gestured angrily at the downed goons and the blood splattered on top of the roof, jaw clenched and eyes more fiery than the summer day Gotham had been subjected you. “Just because of your no-kill rule!”

Bruce drew his shoulders back like he was about o admit something shameful. “That’s not why I didn’t kill the Joker. I tried to kill him, but Superman stopped me.”

Jason’s next shout died in his throat, the anti-hero looking floored as he stared at his father figure, frozen in place with his mouth agape. Bruce continued, now that he could speak, the words rushing out of him like a dam that could not be stopped from breaking. “What?” Jason breathed out. Bruce barreled on.

“I know. I know I’m a hypocrite. But if I tried to kill him, I wouldn’t stop at just him.”

“No, wait, Superman what?”

“He stopped me.”

Three beats of silence.

“Then, why… why didn’t you try again?” Jason asked, voice strangled and thrown helmet all but forgotten in this new piece of information.

“Because… it was an attempt to kill myself too. After that, I didn’t have the will to do anything but to cling onto the Mission,” Bruce said, voice softening to that which he used for children because despite everything, Jason’s was still his son. “And… I didn’t think I deserved to take the easy way out, not when you had the opportunity to live taken away from you like that.”

Jason swallowed. “Why the fuck couldn’t you have told me this earlier?”

“You were angry at me. I deserved it.”

“Fuck you and your stupid martyr bullshit,” Jason rebuked. He went to collect his helmet. Jason paused when he passed Bruce, a split second of understanding running between them that wasn’t there before. Jason picked up his helmet roughly as Batman stood stock still- akin to someone standing still when their cat purrs on them, afraid to move and provoke an unfavorable connection- and huffed.

“I’m gonna beat up the Boy Scout.”

“No.” Bruce paused. “I can’t condone that… but I can tell you that there might be security lapse in the kryptonite safe tonight.”

“I still don’t like you.”

“But you know you’re my son… right?”

“I’ll think about it,” Jason muttered. He pulled out his gun and shoots a guy in the foot. The unconscious goon twitches.

“Hood!” Bruce’s tone changed to scolding.

“There we go. And we’re back.”

“That’s great,” Oracle said in their ears. “Next time, remember to shut off your comms.”

Jason’s face burned. “Oh fuck.”

“Little wing… I didn’t know you felt that way.” Dick said, voice watery as he audibly beat thugs over the head with his baton.

“Hey, Harley’s scheduled to break out of Arkham like tomorrow if you wanted to beat up Superman with her.”

“Sure, Red. Now fuck off!”

Jason shut off his comms, zipped down to the street and stomped angrily to his motorcycle.

Batman turned to gather up the goons, pettily deciding not to warn Superman. Hey, hell week affected him too.

[gloomwitchwrites]

John "Soap" MacTavish x Female Reader - Western AU

Content & Warnings: Wild West AU, cnc, impact play, spanking, boot worship, degradation, humiliation, oral sex (male receiving), breeding undertones

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: For Kinktober 2024

Deputy Marshal John "Soap" MacTavish arrests his favorite outlaw.

ao3 // main masterlist // kinktober 2024 masterlist

There's nothing like the thrill of a chase.

The act of getting caught.

A quick shot from a pistol.

The eventual showdown.

You stand in the middle of the dusty dirt road, hands raised in surrender. The entire town, a place with no name, hides behind doors and windows, watching from the shadows as Deputy Marshal John MacTavish approaches you with his pistol raised. A tumbleweed passes in front of you as a gust of wind kicks up loose dirt.

Marshal MacTavish steps closer. "Keep those hands up. Turn around." You start to turn. "Slowly," he barks out, and you slow.

Your own pistol is on the ground, kicked out in front of you. This is your favorite part, when you finally surrender and Marshal MacTavish comes to the rescue.

His hands roughly grab your wrists and yank them down behind your back.

"No need to be so rough, Marshal,” you tease.

"Quiet," he growls, yanking you backward, pushing you off-balance.

The handcuffs go on, and then his hand is on the back of your neck, pushing forward. "Walk."

"Where?" you ask, all innocence, as if you don't know.

His grip tightens and you smile.

Once you're in cuffs, people begin to emerge again. They stare you down but don't say anything. That's fine. They don't like outlaws, and you're the most notorious in the region. But you never steal from the small folk. That's not your style. You're the Robin Hood type, taking from banks and mayors out in the American West who have no business hoarding all that wealth.

"Locking me up again, MacTavish? You know how that goes."

"I said quiet," he growls into your ear.

The two of you enter the town's makeshift jail. It's just a room with two cells. There's only one sheriff and a constable.

"Get out,” snaps MacTavish. “I want to chat with this one. Alone."

They exchange a look but does as he says. Marshal MacTavish pushes you down into a chair.

"Always a pleasure to see you,” you say with a smile.

"Been hunting you all across the West."

Across the West, and from town to town. Sometimes he catches you. Sometimes he doesn’t.

"I'm a slippery one." You wink. "What will it be this time, Marshal? What can I do to shorten that sentence?"

You see the hunger in his eyes. It always starts like this, and you salivate at the thought. Marshal MacTavish takes a step forward, hands slowly undoing the buckle on his belt, opening the front of his trousers.

"Open that mouth and find out," he replies.

You keep your head high and mouth closed.

Marshal MacTavish grasps the back of your neck, forcing you forward. "You want that shorter sentence or not?"

You present your mouth, and then it's full of him, taking every inch. You are immobile, unable to move your body or hands. Marshal MacTavish has complete control here, guiding your head up and down his length in whatever way he desires.

He forces you to take him to the base. A gag comes up from nowhere, but he keeps you in place as your eyes water. Another thrust, and then he spills down your throat. You greedily swallow every drop.

He removes himself from your mouth. "Open," he says, and you show him that you've taken it all.

Marshal MacTavish grunts and steps back. "Up," he commands. "Turn around." You do so, finding yourself slick between the thighs. A jingle, and then the handcuffs are gone. "Face me. Arms out in front."

Presenting your arms to him, he returns the handcuffs. His gaze runs up and down your body. Backing up, he takes a seat on the edge of the sheriff's desk. Propping his feet up on a chair, he tosses a cloth at you.

"Clean my boots." As you go to do so, he shakes his head. "Crawl."

Slowly, you descend, getting down on all fours, the cloth grasped in your fist. It is an awkward shuffle across the dusty floor. Marshal MacTavish remains immobile and silent as you approach him.

His boots are coated in reddish orange dirt. Using the cloth, you remove the worst of it before attempting to settle on the smaller details.

"Thank me."

"Thank you, Marshal."

"Kiss them. Both."

You do so, lingering on each steel-toed tip. Glancing up at him only fuels your own need. Grasping the cuffs, MacTavish hauls you off the floor and bends you over the sheriff's desk.

"You don't have to do this," he says.

"Do what?" you ask innocently.

"Make things difficult," he growls before yanking your pants down to your ankles.

Your bare ass is exposed as is your cunt. His hands grab, squeezing lightly. Anticipation boils up, lingering in the creases of your senses. Marshal MacTavish removes his belt, folding it in on itself.

Running the leather over the curve of your ass, he pauses at your clit, rubbing that tender spot until your slickness dampens the leather.

"Why are you never good until I catch you?"

It's not a question you're supposed to answer. Instead, you lapse into memory. The last time Marshal MacTavish caught up to you, you had robbed four banks and blown-up part of a train. For that, he had kept you tied up, relentlessly breeding you until he accidentally dropped the keys for your cuffs.

It'll be the same this time. It always is.

Marshal MacTavish enjoys this just as much as you do.

The leather comes down harsh, stinging your flesh. Your entire body jerks, but there is nowhere to go but further onto the desk. He repeats until both cheeks sting, and a pleasurable pain floods your system.

"Such a bad girl. Always bring this on yourself."

The leather slides over the tender flesh and then over your dripping cunt. He lightly tap tap taps it, then brings it down on your clit.

You yelp, boots slipping against the wood floor.

Marshal MacTavish fists your hair, and brings the leather down on your clit again. Everything stings. Everything burns, but it's a delicious, prial feeling.

"You injured my deputy," growls MacTavish, swirling the leather against your clit.

"He'll survive," you reply. It earns you another sharp strike of the belt.

"Always heard you had impeccable aim," he chides. "A little to the left and he'd be dead."

"Exactly,” you mutter. “I didn’t miss.”

The leather disappears, and the grip on your hair loosens. His hand roams downward, resting on the back of your neck. At first, it's gentle, and then there's pressure, your cheek squishing against the wood desk.

"You're going to show me how good you can be. Understood?"

When you don't reply, the leather returns. "Answer me."

"I understand, Marshal."

There is a rustling behind you, and then the head of his cock presses against your cunt. He thrusts lightly, giving you just the head and then retreating, rubbing it up and down the length of your sex. He pauses at your clit, giving it attention until your breath comes in small gasps.

"Good," purrs Marshal MacTavish. "Tell me you want it. Beg me."

You lick your lips. "No."

"Oh, love," he tuts. "Try again."

"I won't beg, Johnny."

You hear the inhale. Rarely do you ever address Deputy Marshal John MacTavish as 'Johnny.'

His grip tightens.

MacTavish lifts your head just enough to whisper in your ear. "You've earned yourself a good and thorough breeding, love."

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@umno-yeah @daemondoll @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez

@ash-tarte @enarien @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[respectthepetty]

scared of your thoughts on fk - i think they confuse their friends & each other - feels so intricate

You asked about one specific pair, but . . .

You opened a floodgate!

I already wrote that I like fan service; therefore, I like First and Khaotung's special brand of teary-eyed fan service. However, I also wrote that JoongDunk are my GMMTV favorites because Joong is always hyping up his homies, and Dunk stays Pretty Boy Petty.

So I'm excited to see all four promote The Heart Killers when the show is ready to be released since I think it'll be a hoot watching First and Khaotung call each other best friends with tears in their eyes while Joong sits next to them commenting on how banging Dunk's body is and Dunk openly agreeing that his body is, in fact, banging. Joong and Dunk are always firing shots at First x Khaotung for no good ass reason, so I'm thrilled they will get to do it to First and Khaotung's faces for an extended period of time.

Because to me, most fan service is good since it allows people to see people of the same sex casually being affectionate with each other without the belief that it should be shameful or hidden, so give me all the styles of GMMTV fan service! Give me Force x Book's eighty year friendship, Pond x Phuwin's nerdy fashion model energy, Earth x Mix's marriage and divorce era, Tay x New's fist fights over dessert, Off x Gun's evolution of skinship, Jimmy x Sea's intellectual companionship, Gemini x Forth's "fuck it, we ball' attitude, and all the other 31 Flavors of Branded Pairs the BL world has to offer us.

Because I really do not care what these men do or do not do or if it is real or not. What bothers me is these companies (not just GMMTV) encourage this behavior, then when fans get toxic, the companies leave the actors to deal with the fallout. I also don't like that out actors aren't as well protected and even straight actors and their girlfriends are targeted by fans, which only encourages queer actors to stay closeted while delivering a queer performance and for straight actors to feed into this mind fuckery by being in a pseudo-monogamous relationship with their acting partner which is an extension of our heteronormative societies and their belief that affection can only be reserved for one person.

So my thoughts on First and Khaotung are irrelevant because I'm going to like all these pairs regardless of what they give me. Max and Tul were as open as possible about Max having a girlfriend and Tul being gay, yet that in no way influenced how I enjoyed their fan service. Yin and War have stated several times that what they do is their job, and I'm still clapping every time War chokes Yin. And as much as I truly believe Mos and Bank are married, if they came out today and said they actually hate each other and cannot stand the sight of each other, I'd be proud at their acting skills all these years because I have faked liking my coworkers for a lot less money.

As a Catholic and a slut, I think there is a great sociological study here about how branded pairs help with queer representation regardless if the people in the pairs are queer or not, yet how the pairs must still fit into a digestible frame of traditional (hetero) relationships with affection only being given to one person forever and ever until death (or their contracts) do them part.

So First and Khaotung aren't the only ones confusing people because this entire setup is confusing. They aren't creating some intricate strategy but these companies are. These actors are just out here telling their homies they look cute and going on (hopefully) company-sponsored trips. And if they like it, I love it.

Because I've been pretending to like Karen from Finance for years when I can't stand that bitch, yet I still have a job that pays my bills, so "get it how you live it."

And make it a little queer along the way.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Bait and Switch. || Scammer!Reader x Victim!Ghost

Rating: M Words: 2.6K~ Pairing: scammer!Reader x victim(but not really)!Ghost CW: phone scams/conning (reader never actually cons him), financial issues?, threats (Simon threatens to find reader), degradation?. other tags: crack, OOC Simon., you/your pronouns (gn!reader but uses a female fake name), obviously fake names (pun/funny), lying, joking, the weirdest meet cute? a/n: this started out as a joke/crack and turned serious/dark at the end? idk how i did this.

Simon Riley would say that being legally dead is the best thing to have happened to him and that's because it allowed him to escape a bunch of responsibilities that regular men have to uphold.

He gets paid covertly, in full, and does not have to pay taxes on his income.

He rented a flat from a sweet ol' lady, who didn't run a background check or ask for a copy of his birth certificate (terrible choice on her part), and he pays her by dropping an envelope of cash in her mailbox on the 1st of every of the month.

He not only is old enough to drink but also sounds and looks old enough as well, which means he doesn't need I.D. to buy alcohol (not that any shops or bars really care enough to check).

He doesn't have a credit card. Or a debit card for that matter. Hell, he doesn't even have a bank account, so he doesn't have to pay maintenance fees.

He doesn't have a smartphone. And up until recently he only had a pager. In fact, the only reason he doesn't have a pager anymore is because it got shot in the crossfire during a mission... so Price forced him to get a jitterbug.

In short... Simon Riley can escape a lot of things (death, taxes, Philip Graves...). But telemarketers and phone scammers are not one of those things.

That's how, on a boring Wednesday afternoon, his new phone ends up ringing, like it had been doing multiple times a week for the last four weeks.

Telemarketers.

He never got telemarketers on his pager.

He hated telemarketers.

But that didn't mean he blocked them-

"What?" He answered as soon as he picked up the phone.

An automated voice came over the call, one of those typical Siri-esque robot voices, delivering a prepared speech: "Congratulations! You've won a free cruise to the Bahamas! To claim your prize, press 1."

Oh, now, this was different. He didn't need to hear more to know it was a scam call. But that didn't mean he was going to hang up.

So Simon pressed key 1, which caused a beep to sound over the call.

"Thank you!" The automated voice continued. "We are now connecting you to a live operator to claim your prize!"

Barely a millisecond went by before you took over the call. "Good afternoon, this is Stella Gormoni with Blissful Blessings Inc.! Who am I speaking with?"

As stereotypical as it is, Simon had expected a different voice on the other end of the line... maybe from a scammer in a foreign country who'd speak heavily-accented English...

But instead, he got a sweet and professional sounding person... It almost made him second-guess the scam that was being pulled on him.

His mind moved quick at coming up with a fake name. Not just a fake one, but a pun one too. "Wanh'a, first name Aiden." He replied, his gruff voice reverberating on the call.

"And how do you spell that?" You asked him politely, and, through your headset, he could hear your keyboard keys clacking in the background.

"That's A-I-D-E-N." He replied as he entered his kitchen, spelling his first, as if that was somehow what was causing you difficulty.

"Uh-huh!" You acknowledged in a peppy tone. "And... your surname?" You asked him.

"W-A-N-H-'-A." He continued spelling as he crossed the small kitchen, hearing your fingers tapping away at your keyboard in his ear.

For a moment, you didn't talk, as if stunned into silence. Had you just picked up on the fact he was trolling you by giving you a name that, phonetically, sounded like 'I Don't Wanna'? Probably. But you hadn't hung up yet.

"Well, congratulations, Mr. Wanh'a, you just won an all-inclusive, two-week long cruise to the Bahamas!" Your peppy tone made him bite his lip to contain a laugh. Well, at least you were dedicated in continuing the scam. "How are you feeling?"

"Very well, and yourself?" Simon asked casually as he leaned himself against the door of his refrigerator, leaning down to look inside and find a snack.

"I'm doing very well, thank you, sir." You replied in a cheerful tone. "So, let's process the information so we can get you your prize, shall we?" You announced in a polite tone.

"Go right on ahead, sweet'eart." He murmured as he grabbed a yogurt and closed the fridge with his hip, sitting at the table and peeling open the lid.

"Well, for us to start, I'm going to need your-"

"Actually, I have a question, before we start." Simon interrupted your speech, cutting off your silver-tongued lies.

You went silent for just a moment before you replied with a sweet little: "Of course, what can I help you with, Mr. Wanh'a?"

"I want to know how exactly I signed up to receive this prize." Simon replied before he placed a spoonful of yogurt in his mouth.

He was trying to accomplish two things by doing this: 1) throw you off your game and make you stammer and stutter, and 2) see how long it took for you to get annoyed, and hang up on him.

"Well, that's what I was going to explain, you see-" You replied, a smile behind your voice, but his trained ears could pick up the slight frustration. It made Simon smile.

"Oh, then, I'm sorry for interrupting you, sweet'art, please go ahead." He replied and gestured with his spoon, as if giving you the stage, unnecessarily so, because you were not there to watch it.

"As I was saying... You were entered automatically into the draw by buying a cereal box of any Kellog's cereal at Tesco. I'm sure you saw a 'Win a free cruise!' sticker on yours?" You asked in a professional and sickly-sweet tone.

He could see right through your scam, he had already done that. You name a famous brand, one people trust, to trick naive or impressionable ones into believing you...

Normal people would tell you they no longer have the cereal box, many of them naive enough to believe your scam despite the fact they hadn't even bought one of those boxes in the first place...

Next, you'd ask for the card used to make the purchase, and some people were dumb enough to read their number aloud to you...

Oh, how he hated scammers. Even more than telemarketers.

"I do remember seeing something like that..." He murmured, his voice deepening, before he popped another spoonful of yogurt past his lips, loudly smacking them right against the receiver of his jitterbug.

"Well, all I need is for you to get the box and read me the code that's imprinted on the inside of the flap!" You announced.

"Well, you see, I would, sweet'art... But my sight isn't so good anymore..." Simon replied. "I'm getting up there in age, you know?" He continued eating his yogurt.

"I understand, sir." You replied. "I'm sorry to hear that. One of my cousins also started losing his vision pretty early." You announced.

Huh.

There was no hint of forced sympathy in your voice.

No, you were being genuine. That was a real story of your life you were telling him...

But you had picked up on the fact he was trolling you, right? So why were you-

"Good thing though, about this system of ours, is that you can just confirm your credit card details so we can double check them and get you that prize!" You had, your tone right back to the scamming silver-tongue you had held until now.

Secretly, Simon had to admit that he admired your commitment to the bit. He couldn't help but smile a bit, amused.

"Oh, of course. Let me just set you down while I get my card." Simon replied and got up, finishing his yogurt and tossing out the plastic container, popping the spoon into the sink, and, after setting down his phone, he walked out of the room.

Simon glanced down at his wrist watch, noting the time on it, then, approached his bedroom door, grabbing his over-the-door pull-up bars, and began doing a quick set, leaving you to 'wait' for him in the kitchen.

After a few sets, he waltzed back into the kitchen and grabbed his phone again. "You still there, da'lin'?" He beckoned in a gruff tone.

You sighed, your politeness sounding slightly more forced. He had kept you waiting for over ten minutes after all. "Yes, sir, I am. Did you get your card, Mr. Wanh'a?"

"Oh, please, enough of this 'sir' thing, Mr. Wanh'a was my mother." He replied, then went silent for just a beat, almost like he could hear your frustration sizzling on he other end.

He was being more and more obvious with his trolling... And it pleased him immensely to imagine a parasite like you seething on the other end of the line, reaching your wits' end.

"You can just call me 'Ai', it's what my friends call me." Simon continued, a smirk forming on his lips. "And we're friends now, right? You're giving me a cruise and everythin'." He added, his tone just as charismatic and peppy as his had been.

"I guess we are!" You replied, returning the overly cheery tone. "So, 'Ai Wanh'a', then?" You asked, but he could hear the mix of frustration and amusement behind your voice.

"Yeah? What d'you want, babygirl?" Simon asked, unable to resist making a more impish remark. And, unfortunately, it had the desired result. It genuinely caused your brain to blue-screen for a moment.

Sure, you'd experienced plenty of people getting angry at you when you attempt to scam them, or even trolling you the same way this bloke was doing but...

It was definitely a first, to have someone flirt with you, even if it was still part of his trolling attempt.

"Your... credit card details?" You ended up adding, your voice still showing the surprise and light meekness that came from him catching you off-guard.

"Oh, of course. Are you ready? It's a very complex number." He replied.

"Ready when you are." You added as you steeled yourself for another smartass response or run around from him.

"Here it is: 1234-5678-9987-6543." He replied, reciting the numbers 1-9 in order and then backward. "And the three digits on the back are: 210."

Oh, he was so fucking annoying! He didn't get to troll you, even if it was pretty amusing of him to do so, then flirt with you, then go back to trolling.

"Sir, if you're not interested in the cruise, just say so. There's no need for this mockery." You replied, your tone serious and professional though you were definitely seething on the inside.

Simon could tell. And he reveled in it. "Oh, but I am interested!" He replied with a smirk behind his voice. "In fact, I want to know more. Will my cabin in the cruise have an ocean view?"

Simon heard you inhale aggressively on the other side of the line, steeling yourself not to hang up on him, or down right berating him on the phone. "Yes, Ai, of course!" He heard your fake cheeriness through your clenched teeth. "It'll be a luxury cabin, actually. Isn't that great?"

"No, it's not that great, actually. I get very seasick, you see?" Simon murmured. "Not to mention, ever since my pet goldfish died, I've just never been able to look at the ocean the same..." He added in a forced pitiful tone.

You went quiet again on the other side and Simon knew he had finally worn you out. He waited to hear the clicking sound of the call falling, but, instead, he just heard you let out a sigh.

"You're very frustrating." You murmured.

"Oh, my, is this how you speak to all your prize winners?" Simon gasped dramatically.

"Shut up... You didn't have to be a smartass, you know?!" You scolded him, as if you had any ground to stand on.

"No, I fear I did, sweet'art." Simon replied as he leaned casually against the kitchen counter. "You called me, interrupted my day, and wasted my time with a scam, of all things. I have every right to be a smartass and have some fun with it." He added, a smug tone obvious in the dulcets of his deep voice.

"Okay? You could've just hung up on me?" You were truly grasping at straws to justify your behaviour. It was comical.

Simon laughed dryly. "And waste an opportunity to annoy a parasitic leech like you?" He quipped.

That stunned you into silence for a moment and you couldn't help but pout a bit.

"Not to mention, what you're doing is illegal, you know that righ'? And I'm military, I could get you arrested for this." He added.

"For that, you'd need to know where I am." You retorted, maybe a bit bratilly. "Besides, I knew you were a soldier."

"And how did you know that?"

"You used the NATO phonetic alphabet while spelling 'your' name'." You replied directly. "Nobody spells 'Aiden' as 'Alpha-India-Delta-Echo-November'."

"So you knew I was military and you still went ahead with your little scam attempt? You're not that bright, are you?" He defied you, which earned him a scoff from your end.

"No, I already knew you were trolling me."

"Oh, so you just wanted to waste my time?"

"That's exactly it, Aiden."

"Sounds to me like you're just looking for trouble, da'lin'." He quipped, his voice having lowered to a gruffer tone.

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed. "Am not. I'm just enjoying myself. You're not the only one that can make jokes at people's expenses."

"No, you really are..." He tutted his tongue and shook his head. "Need I remind you you were trying to scam me, and other people?" He added in a tone that sent a shiver down your spine.

"I know what I was doing."

"Yeah? And are you proud of that? Proud of being a conniving little cunt who tries to take people's hard-earned money?" He taunted you.

You didn't reply. Of course you weren't proud. You still had a conscience! But you wouldn't tell him that. He wouldn't get the satisfaction of hearing you apologise.

"I see. You don't like what I'm saying, so you give me the silent treatment, is that it, sweet'art?" He teased. You could hear the smirk behind his words.

"I wonder if you'd still act like this if you had to face me and had to answer for yourself."

Closing your fists tight, you steel yourself again to gain some edge and reply to him. "I guess you're going to keep wondering then. Because it's not happening."

"You know, it's a shame your little computer spat out my phone number for you to call..." He trailed off.

"And why's that?"

"Because instead of anyone else, you got me... And that's just... really bad luck for you. Any other service member, you would've been fine..." He trailed off.

"What, are you some sort of General-Major-Chief thing, super high up the ladder?" You taunted.

Simon simply chuckled dryly on the other side of the line. "No. But I'm definitely the worst person you could've tried to play with."

"Oh, big scary man, what are you gonna do? Gonna come teach me a lesson?" You added, taunting him some more, clearly feeling comfortable behind your laptop, with your smartphone, sitting at home, comfortable and warm, with your pet at your feet. "Oh, I'm so scared!" You added, feigning fear in a dramatic tone.

"Is that a challenge I'm hearing, sweet'art? Inviting me to come pay you a visit?" Simon asked you, his brow cocking, despite the fact you couldn't see it.

You don't know what it was about the way he spoke. The way he said that. The way his voice sounded.

It sent a shiver down your spine, a cold sweat, like he was, for the first time, not joking around anymore.

"No...?" You murmured in reply, feeling your shoulders tensing in an unpleasant way.

"Yeah... That's an invite I'm hearing..." He disregarded what you said and chuckled. "Maybe I'll come pay you a visit then, hey? How does that sound, little leech?"

[imababblekat]

To Catch A Turtle

@foxespen, "So part of the spiderman powers are having enhanced strength, right? So they could probably pick up any one of the turtles pretty easy, even if they stand at like half the brothers’ height. Imagine during a fight one of the boys gets thrown off a roof and their friendly neighborhood spider catches them and is just hold them bridal style and says like “if you’re gonna fall for me, it doesn’t have to be on a roof”Or something"

~xXx~

It wasn’t often the boys and (s,n) would get into a tough fight, but it seemed that with BeBop and Rocksteady, it always was one. They were two formidable foes for the ninja turtles alone, so having someone like you to fight along side them in these cases was always a welcome advantage.

When Donnie had relayed an alert from Casey, it wasn’t long till the four brothers found themselves fighting the two enemy mutants atop a bank building. Five minutes into the fight and you made your entrance by web launching yourself into BeeBop’s face, with a corny, “Starting the party without me I see!”, as you back flipped off the warthogs face. Just like that, with cheerful greetings, you and the crime fighting terrapins fell into sync, dishing out all you could against the other two. However, as the fight drew on, perhaps due to growing exhaustion, not everyone was able to stay on top of their toes.

“What do these guys even want?!”, you asked aloud, dodging a thrown pipe and landing next to Leo.

The leader in blue charged forward, swinging his dual swords at Rocksteady who was quick to hold up a chunk of broken building to block the attack. Narrowly ducking out of a punch from BeBop, Donnie swung his staff into the warthogs side, earning a harsh yelp from the assailant.

“Not sure. April thinks they’re making some sort of deal and need the cash to do so.”

“Stay out of our business, turtles!”, BeeBop snapped, grabbing Donnies staff and shoving the taller terrapin back into Raphael who had tried to attack from the side.

“The zoo’s not going to take you two, no matter how much you bribe them!”, you quipped, easily dodging Bebops attacks and jumping onto his back, blinding him with multiple web shots and tugging him in different directions as he started a blind rampage.

A loud laugh came from Mikey as he watched you rodeo the warthog, Leo and Donnie running towards you to assist.

“Good one, angel cakes!”, Mikey winked, just missing a punch from Rocksteady.

“The insects jokes are lame!”, the rhino grunted with irritation, grabbing a hold of Mikeys swinging nun-chuck and pulling him forward to give him a hard kick.

“Hey! Only I can call their jokes lame!”

Rocksteady quickly looked over at the person who had shouted, only to suddenly be tackled by a very heated Raphael. With a strong hold of the larger mutants midsection, the red clad ninja used all of his might to push the other to the edge of the building. Despite nearly having the wind knocked out of him by Raphael, Rocksteady was quick to firmly grasp his shell. With a loud grunt from above, Raphael had suddenly found himself being lifted into the air, staring down at a triumphant Rocksteady before being sent flying over the tall buildings edge. The last thing heard, as Raphael struggled to regain sense of what was up and what was down, were his brothers frantically shouting after him. At the height he just been thrown from, Raphael knew that even collapsing into his shell would prove futile to the crushing gravity once he hit the streets below.

Out of nowhere, Raphael felt his stomach lurch back and forth as something, or rather someone, swiftly swung him from one side of a building to another in a quick descent. It wasn’t till the world stopped spinning around him did Raphael peek open an eye, confusion followed quickly by shock when he realized who had been his savior.

“You know, Raphael, you make quite the cute damsel in distress if I do say so myself.”, you cheekily jested, and said turtle could just picture your eyebrows wagging beneath your mask.

(S,n) had been holding the bulky terrapin like he was air. Their arms snuggly wrapped beneath his knees and the midsection of his shell. Despite the alarming size difference, you cradled Raphael so carefully and securely, in a way that he had wished to someday carry a significant other. Yet, to be the one being held in such a manner, caused the macho man of a turtle to feel his face quickly heat up, and scramble out of your arms even quicker when he heard the approaching foot steps of his brothers. One could practically feel the heat of embarrassment radiating off of him, as he tried desperately to play things cool.

“What happened to BeBop and Rocksteady?”, Raph questioned his brothers, hoping beyond belief that they hadn’t seen a thing.

“They managed to get away, but not without leaving behind what they tried to steal. Casey and the NYPD are on their way to pick up the stolen goods.”, Leo informed, looking between his flustered sibling and the spider person beside him.

Raphael just let out a scoff, turning sharply and walking off in a random direction.

“Where are you going?”, Mikey confusingly asked.

“To find my sai's.”

“Your welcome by the way!”, you shouted out, to which Raphael simply sent you back a deep scowl before returning to his search.

Despite the aggravated grumbling you could hear come from the hot headed person you saved, you continued to smile to yourself, the squinted eyes of your mask telling of your hidden expression. Pulling out a pen and small note pad, the parchment labeled (s,n) Notes, Donnie began to scribble away.

“Did he even weigh anything to you?”, he questioned with scientific curiosity.

You shrugged, hands on your hips as you peered up at Donnie.

“Like a feather.”

“Oo, oo! Me next!”, Mikey excitedly shouted, bounding towards you at top speed.

Not even your spidey senses could have prepared you for Mikey’s suddenness, you both collapsing to the ground just as you’d barely caught him in your arms. Leo merely shook his head in slight disappointment, Donnie continuing to jot down notes, and Raphael in the distance still trying to calm his flustered heart.

~xXx~