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cheesus-doodles · 3 months ago

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Left Behind in Unsolicited Matrimony

Yandere Kalim

Masterlist | Beyond the Glitter of Gold

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still can't think of a good title :/ been stuck on this fic for so long it's not even funny ;-; not edited cause I'm just happy to get it out finally!! (p.s. i play en server with no spoilers so no spoilers please)

“W-wait,” Kalim stammered out, the tanned boy looking uncharacteristically even as the celebrations around him continued on without missing a beat. Heartbeat hammering away in his ears, garnet red eyes that would fit right in amidst the priceless stones of the Asim family’s collection were wide as they glanced between his parents. “What do you mean?”

”We have to celebrate your engagement, of course,” his father chuckled, gesturing at the full-on festival playing out in front of him, the gold and priceless jewels twinkling like stars down from the ceiling of the grand hall. “How could we not? It is a most joyous occasion.”

His heart skipped countless beats as it set a vicious beat in his chest, though his mind seemed to barely notice, thoughts pounding away against his skull like a jackhammer. The world around him felt like it was swirling along with the dancing guests even as he stood in place, his feet rooted in place as if an old tree from a bygone era. And his face looked the part as well, drained of all blood, every breath feeling more like a fight against heaving up everything he had eaten in the past twelve hours.

‎

Engagement. An engagement. Of all things to deal with- Mind whirling, the tanned boy would have succumbed to his jelly legs if his mother hadn’t been holding on to him. What should he do now?

”Oh don’t worry about anything dear, we’ll have everything settled,” his mother reassured as she lightly squeezed his hand, no doubt mistaking the growing look of horror on his face for nervousness. “You don’t have to do anything at all.”

That was the furthest thing from his concern, was what he wanted to scream at the thought of his lungs, though Kalim couldn’t exactly voice that sentiment, the ornate gold jewelry that decorated his tanned skin jingling slightly as his arms fell listlessly to his side. What had gone wrong for him to be in this situation? “But why?” The Scarabia housewarden asked shakily. “I thought-”

“Well, we set it all up for you as a surprise! Your birthday is so soon, we couldn’t help it,” the older lady continued, grinning from ear to ear as she nudged her son playfully, her eyes slightly glassy as she harkened back to those good ol’ days. “And we found the perfect girl for you. You remember her, don’t you Kalim? That girl you tailed around so much when the two of you were kids.”

Yet despite his parents’ hearty laughs as they exchanged memories and stories about the silly, happy child from his past, the glitter and glamor and the cheers that surrounded him, no matter how he tried with his usual brightside glasses, Kalim couldn’t make himself see the upside of this situation he found himself in. Turning it upside down, inside out, all he could see was that should he simply agree, there would be but a single path for him to follow, a path he had no will to see through, and no way out.

Because there was no future the white-haired boy wanted to be a part of that didn’t include you.

To his right, a nameless servant scrambling forward caught Kalim’s eye, the man respectfully pouring out another glass of wine for the Asim matriarch before disappearing back into the shadows. It wasn’t anything momentous by any stretch of the imagination - in fact, it would have happened dozens of times a day, but that was all it took to drag the thought of you straight to the front of his brain again: the silent labor of the Asim staff would have been another part of his life he wouldn’t have noticed if it wasn’t for you pointing it out. You were everywhere, everything.

And then of course, the question of you. What about you?

‎

Whirling around, eyes that could have been mistaken for shimmering rubies under the candlelight of the chandeliers overhead desperately searched the joyous, dancing crowds for you. And he found you quickly enough in a quiet corner of the hall, one gentle hand wrapped delicately around a glass of some kind, your silhouette hidden partially behind a set of drapes. Yes, there would be where he expected you to be, given you had always preferred the calm and silence as opposed to this chaotic party vibe not too dissimilar to Scarabia’s on a regular day.

This was supposed to have been nothing more than a prime opportunity to show you the wonders and splendors of his homeland, the Land of the Scalding Sands. Sure, you weren’t particularly favorable towards the riches and glamor that were the cornerstone of his life, refusing to accept even a single bangle that he hardly knew existed without being all but begged and whined into giving in; but the white-haired housewarden wanted you to see what laid beyond just the Asim family and their vast wealth. The depth of history of the land and people that grew side by side, the vibrant colors of its culture and heritage; there was so much to be seen and experienced. He fell in love with it, its past, present and future, over and over again, so maybe you would too.

All daydreams of the could-be were however shattered in an instant, when from a slight shift of your figure revealed your companion to be none other than Leona Kingscholar, that braided mane of dark brown hair and lion ears unmistaken.

Kalim’s gut dropped. Wait. When was he invited? More importantly, why were you talking to him?

‎

All logic pointed to Leona having been invited by the Asim family, being the second prince of the Sunset Savannah and Kalim’s upperclassman. But watching you chattering along with the tanned beastman without missing a beat like old friends, it didn’t feel right for him to just be standing here. And you only confirmed his worst fears when you chuckled at something the Savanaclaw housewarden said, to which the other laughed along, his hair swaying elegantly with his moment with an ease Kalim would never hope to be able to achieve. Was that a blush on your cheeks?!

The niggling doubt started to emerge, a trickle at first, taunting voices emerging like a hidden spring seeping out of freshly defrosted ground. And then it began to pour out as the floodgates opened, an uncontrollable torrent. You had no interest in Kalim, they whispered, no matter what he did. You would never be interested in him, not while he still had so many competitors for your eye.

Jealousy that Kalim never knew he possessed snared his heart, ugly, ugly feelings that he never wanted to acknowledge he even had in him making themselves known.

All he could see was you and Leona, the rest of the world blurred into a background blob, the ringing in his ears only growing louder with every passing second as your infuriating conversation continued blissfully unaware of his stares.

If only. If only Leona wasn’t there. There was nothing more that Kalim wanted in the moment but to hurt the Sunset Savannah prince, wanted to get rid of him, to make sure he leaves and never be able to speak with you again; the feeling churned deep in his chest, a rage ignited that he couldn’t seem to control, his fists both balled up tight to his side. He could make it happen, couldn’t he? The voices taunted, the light breeze as if they were brushing up against his ear. Even if he wasn’t royalty and Leona was, Kalim could wield the might of his family and make it happen.

‎

You seemed to have felt his stare on you, the Scarabia housewarden subtly noted, as you shifted, looking around for the gaze on you.

It took but a blink as your eyes met his for Kalim to shake back to reality, watching your face visibly brighten as you started to make your way towards him, threading your way through the crowd as you eagerly waved in his direction. His world instantly lightened along with your expression, his once-heavy heart even starting to flutter slightly, though that warm feeling didn’t last long, his parents still musing the good ol’ times to the side catching the corner of his eyes.

Actually, come to think of it, this really was one of those times he rather you weren’t here.

It was too late for that now, and the grin he forced himself to wear felt unusually uncomfortable.

”Here you are, Kalim! We’ve been looking all over for you,” your footsteps stuttered to a pause, and you leaned in slightly, the concern washing over your expression. “You look pale! Are you alright?”

“Oh! You must be the classmates we’ve heard so much about!” The Asim matriarch stepped forward, grabbing your hand and giving it an enthusiastic shake. “Welcome to the Scalding Sands! Kalim’s just a bit too nervous right now since we’ll be announcing his engagement."

But you didn’t seem to notice the horror once more setting in on the young Asim’s face as that wretched word fell out of his mother’s mouth again, your hand instead flying up to cover your mouth in surprise. “Oh! Congratulations Kalim!” His gaze instantly snapped to you. No. It wasn’t true. You weren’t supposed to know that. He didn’t want to be engaged.

What the white-haired boy wanted was to deny, deny, deny everything and anything to you, but his mouth was dry and his voice didn’t seem to want to work. And so all he could do was watch.

“Yes, thank you,” his father graciously accepted, shaking your hand once his mother finally let go. “We’re so very excited.”

“I’m sure you have a lot to discuss, so I will take my leave,” you politely nodded, excusing yourself from the situation.

Leona wasn’t far behind, that infuriating smirk decorating his face as he too said his congratulations before sauntering off after you, and Kalim’s garnet eyes trailing your pair up till the two of you disappeared from the hall to parts unknown.

‎

He was the one that had asked to bring friends over, and had been caught with his metaphorical pants down. How was he supposed to get out of this situation now? Chasing after you was what his heart was screaming at him, and dealing with Leona his mind, yet he simply stood, rooted to the spot, usual impulsive nature nowhere to be found.

“-so, would you like to meet her?”

Kalim turned almost robotically at the question, his gaze blank, unfocused. “What?”

“Your finance,” his father clarified rather unhelpfully, the older man tiptoeing slightly to look around the vast hall. “I’m sure she’s somewhere here, I can call her over-”

“M-maybe later,” Kalim interjected hastily, though as much as he wanted to chase after you immediately, that would have to wait. “How bout, how bout I-�� Scanning the hall instead and leaving his sentence uncompleted, Jamil was easy enough to pick out amidst the sea of guests dressed to the nines, his simple outfit and golden hair ornaments making enough of a contrast to highlight the needle in the haystack. And no doubt his trusted friend and vice-housewarden had seen what had gone down, judging from those furrowed eyebrows and concerned stare.

A quick nod from the other and Jamil was off, quick footsteps carrying the black-haired boy down the same path you had taken just minutes earlier.

With that situation now under careful watch, Kalim turned back to his parents, laughing nervously. “How bout I go and check on the guests first?

He needed to get to you.

Fast.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #twst x reader #twst x you #kalim al asim #twst kalim #kalim x reader #jamil viper #twst jamil #jamil x reader #cheesus drabbles #leona kingscholar #leona x reader #kalim x you #leona x you #leona kingscholar x reader #kalim al-asim x reader

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undead-supernova · 7 months ago

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Bullshit! / Masterlist / 18+

part 1 / part 3

Playlist

pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

plot: eddie runs into you unexpectedly and you think it's time to have that date a little early

contains: eddie lacking confidence, confident!reader, get to know Eddie and the reader a little better, making out, kids this is a bit more than pg-13 I'll tell you that much without spoiling it

note: sorry guys, I'm not done with this. maybe far from it. they have a dynamic unlike any other and I'm here for it.

wc: 4k

The library was maybe the last place Eddie wanted to be at one in the afternoon on a Tuesday. It was always overcrowded, riddled with students running around with coffee from the adjoining Starbucks.

But Eddie needed a new book, having told himself that rereading The Hobbit the third time this semester was…unnecessary. Plus, his English professor told him that “we can only enact change ourselves.”

Maybe it was a sign. Because as Eddie passed the large glass windows, he saw you sitting at one of the booths.

You looked different from every Saturday night. No makeup, hardly any jewelry except for a thin gold necklace and several rings. An oversized sweatshirt and, from his vantage point, you were wearing a pleated skirt. He even noticed that your high-top Converse were placed next to you, mismatched patterned socks adorning your feet.

And, fuck, Eddie couldn’t help the excitement rising inside him. It should’ve embarrassed him when he started jogging towards the front door, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. All he could think about was the sound of your voice and your eyes and your touch and your kiss.

He slowed his pace as he walked past the printers and computers and found your head down in some textbook, blissfully unaware.

“Working hard or hardly working?” he asked.

And when you looked up and smiled, he could’ve sworn his heart swelled and burst like a goddamn balloon.

“Oh my gosh, hi!” you exclaimed, jumping up to give him a hug. “What the fuck are you doing here!”

It was only for a few seconds, but he couldn’t resist breathing in your intoxicating perfume and memorizing the feel of you. The curve of your back, the soft fabric of your sweatshirt scratching against his calloused fingertips.

And as you sat back down, he realized quickly why your mere touch was so alluring. It was a reminder that Saturday had been real and, on this grueling Tuesday, you still cared about his existence. You still noticed him.

“I was coming to look for something new to read,” he answered, trying to figure out what to do with his hands and failing. “What about you?”

Eddie couldn’t decipher your now raised eyebrow, watching as you lifted your pointer finger. “Sit down,” you nearly demanded, eyes flickering from him to the booth. His heart hammered in his chest as he complied, eyeing your finger following his movements.

It was despicable how easy it was for you to get him to do whatever you wanted. Even just fucking sitting down. But he loved it. Every. Fucking. Second.

“I was in the stacks looking at the archives,” you explained. “But everyone in my class took them already.” You sighed, rolling your eyes. “Such bitches.”

“How rude,” Eddie said, all teasing with an amused smile.

He could tell you liked it, biting your lip slightly before playing along. “I know, it’s offensive.”

There was something he noticed in your expression, placing your lip back between your teeth as you scanned him up and down. Eddie was unable to keep a smile off his face, overwhelmed by the attention you gave him. Like he was a meal, but something to be savored rather than merely devoured.

He couldn’t help it when he returned the sentiment, glancing down at your skirt that was riding further and further up your thighs. It wasn’t the time to think about you like that, spread wide for him as he got on all fours. Having you barking commands at him to do it properly, rewarding him with endless praise once you deemed it good enough.

Your thighs parted just a bit more, head tilting to the side as you gave him a smirk. As if you knew exactly where his thoughts were and wanted him to keep going. And, wow, were you two really just eye-fucking each other in the library?

“Want some coffee?” he asked, trying to distract himself. Practically flinching, pulling himself back from the table. “I was gonna head to Starbucks afterwards.”

The sexual tension broke at the question and he watched as you fiddled with your pen. But you didn’t flounder like he did. He wondered if you ever could.

“Yeah, I’d love to. I have to finish something up but—”

“Oh, I’ll go by myself,” he offered.

“You sure?” you asked, clearly surprised.

“Yeah, no biggie,” he assured you, standing up.

Expression turning a bit sheepish, you said, “I will warn you… My order is complicated.”

He shrugged. “Hit me.”

And the order wasn’t complicated, per se. Eddie just wanted to know how the hell had you come up with a “dirty iced chai with oat milk and two pumps of cinnamon dolce”. Regardless, Eddie tucked that into his Notes app for later. If there was a later.

After grabbing himself a large black coffee and the concoction you'd asked for, he made his way back over to you. Rounding the corner, he noticed the way you moved back and forth between a book and your laptop, sighing and mumbling something to yourself. But as if you could sense him, you turned and watched him approach, a smile appearing on your lips.

“Oh, a Venti, huh?” you teased, making grabbing motions at him anyways.

He shrugged, sitting back down. “You deserve it.”

“You know what? You’re right.” You took it from his hand, taking a long sip. “I hate Starbucks coffee,” you said, licking your lips. “It’s awful. But this is the best thing on the menu, so thank you.”

“Yeah, of course.” Eddie hoped you couldn’t see him blush. "I hate it, too. It's just the only thing we got."

“God, I know. Also, I can Venmo you or—"

“Absolutely not,” he interrupted, waving you away.

“Okay,” you conceded, not bothering to argue further. Just took another sip and sat back. Glanced out the window before back at him. “Wanna go on that date today?”

“Today?” he asked, nearly gobsmacked.

Nervousness ran along his limbs, not fully prepared to be with you. Alone. Just the two of you. It’d taken him hours to go to bed after dropping you off the other night. Any time he thought he was done masturbating, it just came with another round. Like a goddamn creep.

“Why not?”

“Aren’t you doing research?” he asked, feeling his face grow hot.

And if you noticed, you didn’t say anything about it.

“Oh my god, I would rather die than look at this shit any longer. I’ve been here since eight.” You paused before throwing a hand over your face. “Unless you’re busy. Sorry I didn’t ask first.”

“No, no. I’m free,” he lied, deciding at that moment to skip his class. He’d catch up on Algebra with his tutor—it’s not like he paid attention anyways. That damn tutor was the only reason he understood a fraction of it. Pun absolutely intended.

And he swore you nearly jumped up, grabbing your shoes and shoving them on before packing up your backpack, the weight of it starting to look daunting. Book after book, plus your laptop and pencil case and…

Without thought, Eddie grabbed it for you, slinging it over his shoulder. Fuck, it was heavy. “Here, I got it.”

You stared up at him, clearly shocked. “Oh, you sure?”

But Eddie gave you a smile and gestured towards the window with his head. “Yeah, come on. I’ll drive.”

By all accounts, Eddie was actually…sweet. It was nearly sickening how sweet he could be, carrying your backpack for you and opening the car door (despite it being a stalker van). Asking what music you liked to listen to—everything, was the answer. And you didn’t just like every genre, you loved it— Fiddling with the air conditioning and telling you to change it if you get too hot or too cold. Asking if his music was too loud, asking how you were doing now, away from your books.

You were starting to find him ridiculously intriguing, unsure how to take his kindness. It wasn’t a bad thing by any means. You just…weren’t used to a man being so considerate of your feelings.

It wasn’t like you didn’t think you deserved it—that was obvious every time a man got a little too close for comfort and you had to humiliate them.

But there was just something that felt new about Eddie. When he’d approached you at the party, you sized him up like every other guy shooting their shot. But he caught your eye immediately when he stumbled over his words. And when a jolt seized your veins at that first touch on his arm, you knew you were hooked.

You’d gone to bed that night with a smile on your face, softly licking along your lips to savor the lingering taste of Eddie’s mouth. It was tinged with beer, something you used to hate. Something you now loved, thoughts echoing one word:

New.

Eddie helped you out of the car once he’d parked, even insisting that you let him get it for you. It made you feel quite warm in the face, surprised by his assertion. Made you feel like a lady, something you hadn’t ever felt at the hands of a man.

As you moved through the museum, you were quiet, whispering now and then about certain art styles and their importance during their corresponding time periods. And you were glad that Eddie wasn’t a douchebag about noise level inside a museum.

He never interrupted, never poked fun at your intelligence. He’d even asked more questions, all hushed and contained, some even you didn’t know the answer to. Pocketing them for later to ask your professors.

But Eddie rarely gave up any information about himself, leaving you to tap his foot with yours and ask him questions. Every time, his face got hot and he murmured responses with a shrug, as if he didn’t think it was anything special.

How was it not? He was still undecided, having dreams of working on video games and helping direct the narratives in new and innovative ways to engage with the player more. You didn’t know much about video games, but you still listened. Still gave him the attention he’d given you. It wasn’t even hard—he was so animated once he got into something he was passionate about. It was endearing, actually.

You ended up sitting down on one of the benches together, staring at an abstract painting by an artist you’d never heard of.

“Do you like abstract?” you asked him, whispering despite the empty room.

Eddie shrugged, eyes trained on the swirling colors. “I think so? I mean, it’s cool to look at. I just don’t really know what I’m looking for. Or what I’m looking at, for that matter.”

That brought a smile to your face. His statement wasn’t judgmental or dismissive. It was…pensive. Contemplative.

“I think of it like music,” you said. “The different colors and movements are like different instruments. They’re all separate but they come together to make something magical.”

For emphasis, you leaned in closer to him, your face and shoulder fully pressed against him. Raised your arm to point at the sharp flicks of red hurling towards the top right of the canvas. You could’ve sworn you heard Eddie suck in a breath, having to suppress a smirk at the effect you had over him.

“That’s like a trumpet, bright and loud. Furious in nature but soaring off the page.” Then you pointed toward the royal blue splatters, more round than some of the other scattered pigments. “And this is like, oh, I don’t know. I guess, a trombone. Low and sultry. Rounded. Keeping everything together.”

Eddie turned his head, your noses nearly touching. You couldn’t help the shiver running down your neck at the tickling sensation you got from his hair. A smile you hadn’t seen before enveloped his face as you made eye contact.

“So, you’re saying it’s like jazz.”

A breathy laugh left your lips, finding yourself intimidated by his pointed gaze. By the way you could study the rich brown in his eyes, all bright and energized despite his calm demeanor. The stubble rising from his pores, all scratchy and wicked.

“Well, uh,” you murmured, surprised by your inability to form words. “It doesn’t have to be, but, um, I guess this one made me think of jazz. The way it kinda…” your voice trailed off as he seemingly leaned in further, his scent like smoke fogging your senses. “It’s not so rigid. It’s improv. It’s, um…”

“Varied?” he offered, his smile growing. “Unique?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Eddie let out a hum. “I think I get it now.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s beautiful.”

For once, you had to look away, back at the painting to try and control your breathing. There were flashes of things you wanted to do, both tender and wildly too inappropriate for the setting. Things you wanted beyond physicality, beyond the limits you’d always set for yourself.

And as if he could hear the pounding of your heart, his fingertips touched yours. Slowly weaved his fingers through the spaces left open. Took a piece of your heart with him.

Eddie might not be exactly forward with his actions, but he knew what he wanted. All you could do was squeeze his hand and hope that one day you’d get to see him in full bloom.

“Why do you do that thing?” you asked.

Eddie glanced over at you, one hand on the steering wheel. The other fiddled with a hole in his pants, needing something to grasp onto. His heart rate just started to slow down, giving him a chance to breathe.

There was just something about you that drove him mad.

“What thing?”

“Act like you’re not interesting.”

Sheepishly, Eddie shrugged. “I mean, I don’t know. I guess it’s ‘cause you’re way more interesting than me.”

“Bullshit,” you said sternly, a scoff leaving your lips.

“What!” he exclaimed, looking over at you again. “It’s true.”

You shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest. “You highly underestimate yourself.”

Eddie snorted. “I’m a stereotype.”

“Bullshit,” you repeated, starting to sound genuinely frustrated. “Who the hell told you that?”

He didn’t know where to start.

Being a loser wasn’t a big deal for him in high school. Grew up with his father’s reputation preceding him. Got through it the best he could with some awesome friends along the way. Finally graduated high school and raised his GPA enough to come here. It was simple. In his mind, he was simple.

But spending the latter half of summer, the one he dared never to speak of, without his friends and then coming here without anyone else… Well, he struggled to find anyone willing to be his friend. He tried. Really, he did. But it never came to fruition.

And what was more embarrassing than joining a D&D club before being told he didn’t belong within the first hour? Him, the DM of Hawkins, hell, Indiana, being told he didn’t belong. That he didn’t play right. That he just didn’t fit.

He spent so much time alone. It was starting to make him miss Hawkins, the nostalgia starting to kick in. Hawkins, the place he loathed. The place he wanted nothing to do with.

He was a nineteen-year-old Freshman with no friends and an undecided future.

His silence must’ve lasted longer than he thought because you pointed at the nearly empty Walmart parking lot and asked, “Actually, would you pull in for a sec?”

“Yeah, of course,” he responded, heading towards the very back row, far from any remaining cars. Giving the two of you privacy just in case you started to yell at him for being a loser or something. He didn’t know. You were just so unpredictable.

But once he parked, you were unbuckling your seatbelt and grabbing his chin. Squished the bottom of his cheeks in one hand as you pulled his face closer to yours. He must’ve stopped breathing, hands slipping from the steering wheel.

“You better start listening to me, Eddie,” you breathed, all low and sensual, moving your lips to barely graze his bottom lip. “I really don’t like you talking about yourself like that.”

Eddie could feel sweat collecting beneath his bangs as you continued your torture, raking your fingernails down his throat before wrapping your hand around it. He gasped, earning a small smile out of you.

“I don’t waste my time with boring people, as conceited as that sounds,” you continued, the left corner of your mouth lifting. Eyes flickering between his eyes and his lips, eyelashes fluttering with each micromovement. “But I never claimed to be the nicest person, did I?” Eddie still wouldn’t speak. He didn’t know if he could without moaning. “You’re one of the most interesting people I’ve met. And the nicest, which is probably more than I deserve. You’ve seen the way I treat other men.”

“They deserved it,” he whispered, feeling his cock twitch when your grip tightened. “Every one of them.”

“Yeah, they did,” you replied, raising the pitch of your voice. Like you were taunting him. “But you’re different, aren’t you?”

“I-I am?”

“You’re sweet,” you breathed, giving slow kisses to his cheeks. Giggling when you noticed the blood rushing into them so rapidly. “And you’re a real nice guy, you know that?”

“I, uh, I try to be,” he stumbled as you moved your lips past his jaw and against his ear. Went limp at the feeling of you biting the lobe, fanning your breath over it.

“You do such an excellent job,” you whispered. “So nice and kind and funny. You really get me going, Eddie. I didn’t think I’d be so affected by you.”

When you pulled back to face him, you chuckled. He couldn’t blame you. His eyes must’ve been popping out of his head, mouth agape at your pretty words. What was even more fucked up was how genuine you sounded, like you weren’t just saying these things to say them. You meant it.

“I thought about you a lot this weekend,” you said breathily, removing your hand from his neck to start coiling his hair around your finger.

“Me?”

“You,” you said with a nod.

He licked his lips. “W-what about me?”

“About how interesting you are. And not to get too vulgar,” you said with a giggle, all teasing and devilish. “But I couldn’t help but think about taking your cock down my throat.” Another giggle as you tapped your fingers along his collarbone. “Thought about what it looks like, if it’s half as pretty as you.”

Eddie couldn’t stop the way his cock strained against his jeans, the neverending praise overwhelming him. “T-thank you,” he responded, unable to suppress the whine that he’d tried to contain when your other hand began palming him over his jeans.

“You, um,” he tried to continue, taking a deep breath through his nose to keep his composure. “I-if you want, you can. Anytime. Any time.”

“It’d be so easy like this, you know,” you nearly purred. “To ride you, to leave you a blubbering mess and thanking me for taking care of you. I think you’d really, really like that.”

“You’re killing me, sweetheart,” he groaned, fingers now reaching out to white-knuckle the steering wheel.

“Am I wrong?”

A tiny scoff left his lips as you nearly massaged his cock, knowing that if you didn’t stop soon, he was going to burst. “You already know the answer to that.”

“I want to hear it, Eddie.” You nipped his neck, causing him to jump a little. But you wouldn’t stop, whispering filthy words as you continued to mark him. “I want to hear you tell me how good it would feel for me to suck you dry.” He continued to nod, each word sending him further into the deep end. “Before getting you hard again, just ‘cause I can, and getting on top so I can milk you with my pussy.” He moaned at your vulgarity. “Which is dripping, by the way.”

Without any warning, Eddie was cumming, an explosive rush that had him twitching and jerking. Panting and dry mouthed. You didn’t remove your hand, merely chuckling and rubbing him through his jeans until he was able to breathe normally again.

Before Eddie could get the chance to apologize for his behavior, you were pulling him in with an agonizingly slow kiss, your fingers damp from the cum seeping through his jeans.

You tugged at his lower lip with your teeth before letting out a hum. Gazed up into his puppy dog eyes and said, “Good boy.”

After a few moments of Eddie being able to think clearly again, you found your eyes wandering around his console before settling on a pack of cigarettes.

“You smoke?” you asked, plucking them from the cupholder and shaking the box in front of his face.

He nodded, seemingly quiet despite what transpired. “Want one?”

“Absolutely,” you responded, quick to take two out and hand one over. Watched him roll the windows down. Even went so far as to light both cigarettes for you like a gentleman.

You knew he was still coming down from that high. It wasn’t like you could judge when the wetness collecting between your thighs was probably staining the carseat. It took everything in you not to beg him to take you right then and there. But you were a lady (of sorts) and as a lady, you were content with saving yourself for another day.

Besides, it was nice to see him so calm now. Like a weight had been lifted, if only for a moment. It was still a moment.

“Post-nut clarity cigarette,” you joked, taking a slow drag and glancing out at the afternoon sun.

“Was that…not embarrassing?”

That was when you realized what was happening.

“Are you kidding me? That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” you said truthfully.

“I’m sure it’s totally hot,” he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

Ah, yes. You supposed it was embarrassing for a guy to have creamed his pants without so much as a kiss. But that didn’t bother you at all. You knew it would be different once you were alone, edging him until he was begging you for more. Nothing would make you happier.

You ignored him. “You know, if you want us to go any further, you’re gonna have to earn it,” you said plainly, checking over your nails to make sure the paint hadn’t chipped too bad.

“How?”

“Once you learn to be nice to yourself.” You shrugged before glancing back over at his wide-eyed expression. “I know there’s something more to you than what you think of yourself. I saw it at the party and I’m seeing it now. You just have to see that, Eddie. That’s really all there is to it.”

Eddie’s lips seemed to form a pout before he took a few hearty puffs, the smoke billowing around you. Looked around. Looked down at his lap. Looked back up at you. Mumbled, “So I can’t, like, go down on you right now?”

A laugh surged out of you so quickly that you started coughing. You waved him away when his concern sounded, ending up laughing harder before you could contain yourself.

“As much as I’d love to give you the privilege of eating me out right now, I think it’s best to wait until you’ve shown some improvement.”

“So there’s a chance?” he asked.

You leaned back in towards his face, opening his mouth with your thumb. Taking another drag, you put your lips to his and blew the smoke into his mouth. Felt him breathe it in before letting it out through his nose.

You smirked. “If you’re desperate for a piece of me, you could always lap up what I left behind on your car seat.”

He groaned, taking a deep breath while rolling his eyes. “God, you’re a fucking menace.”

“Honey, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

as per usual, thanks to @strangergraphics for letting me use her dividers and looking over my work hehehe

#Eddie munson x reader #eddie munson/reader #Eddie munson x you #Eddie munson/you #Eddie x you #Eddie x reader #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x y/n #Eddie Munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #Eddie Munson smut #boring! series

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thezeninclan · 2 months ago

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home to her | nanami kento x reader

kento swallows hard, and when he meets your gaze from across the kotatsu you can see that he looks as though he desperately desires to say something, but is trying hard to force it down. your brows furrow, the heat rising to his face having nothing to do with the warmth of the heater, and your hand lays upon the gift he had pushed across the table towards you. it wasn’t your birthday, wasn’t your anniversary, so the gift had come as a great surprise, despite the practiced nonchalance kento had shown when he whisked it from his satchel and laid it upon the table.

“a gift?” you asked, cheeks flushed with happiness.

it wasn’t unusual for kento to return home at random with gifts for you, a bouquet of fresh cut lilies, a brand new journal, a sweet smelling candle. but you could tell from the way he presented it that this was something different, something new.

your chest felt heavy and full, your body so light that for a moment you feared you might simply fly away, if it wasn’t for the wrapped parcel keeping you tethered. nanami nodded tersely, watching as you fingered the navy ribbon as your hands worked at the wrapped paper.

you startled as the box came into view, the familiar hinged style telling you at once it was jewelry.

you bit the bottom of your lip, hands nearly shaking as you opened the jewelry box and came face to face with what lay inside. it was a hammered chain-linked necklace, thin and fine, the color silvery-gold, so bright that it nearly glittered in the soft lamp light of the shared living room. your fingertips paused on their exploratory journey across the metal, feeling the heat of his gaze on the top of your head, and you looked up at him. “it’s beautiful.” you breathed, in awe and delight. he looks away from you, a splatter of pink painted across his cheeks that made him look unbearably endearing. but still he said nothing, looking down at his feet and frowning deeply enough to accentuates the sunken lines on his cheeks.

you frowned, pushing yourself across the tatami to sit at his side. he had given you a gift, surely this must be a pleasant occasion— so why did he look so pained?

you folded your legs neatly beneath you and placed your hand gently against his firm thigh in a silent gesture of affirmation, finally making him lift his head. kento sighed, long and deep, before lifting an arm and wrapping it around your shoulders, squeezing you against his side. you felt so at ease, so at peace— with your arms around his waist, his warm body pressed against yours, a big hand hand coming to rest upon the top of your head so he could gently stroke at your hair.

“it’s-” he begins and you turn to look up at him through those big bright eyes he loves so much. he gestures to himself, his long fingers pressing to his blue striped shirt. you wanted them pressing against you. “to me it means...” he trails off again. it’s unusual to see him so at a loss for words, so completely out of his depth, and it just makes you cling to him further. “if you put it on then you shouldn’t...well, what I mean is that you shouldn’t—”

you realize in a breath what he’s trying to say, the way his fingers have risen to his chest and pulled the collar of his shirt just slightly apart so that you can see a triangle of his bare chest. from the moment you had set your eyes upon him you had noticed something a miss, something unusual— but you hadn’t been able to place it until this moment, until you had caught sight of his naked throat. the chain he usually wore was gone, disappeared from its usual place resting upon his chest to reappear at your fingers. in the time you had known him he had never been without the golden necklace. when he slept he wore nothing but a pair of soft sleep pants and the golden chain, when he bathed or swam at the heated pool at the gym he did not remove it. even when he worked, he wore the chain beneath the lapels of his dark blue long sleeve. you knew how much it meant to him, so to see him without it, to see him gift it to you.

“I won’t take it off.” you said, interrupting him gently by placing a hand on his.

you entwined your fingers with his, feeling the calluses and rough skin from so many years of hard work. his eyes were firm as they met yours, unwavering, and yet there was a softness there that made you continue.

“It means the same thing to me.” you promised, hoping your eyes spoke the words you mouth couldn’t. you knew the weight of the gesture, knew what it meant to him to have gifted that collar to you. “I won’t take it off, kento.” he loved the way you said his name, like a prayer, like a song, whose words only you knew.

the chain felt cool upon your skin as he laid it around your throat, fingers tickling the back of your neck as he did up the clasp. it felt heavy, solid, the same comfort as a weighted blanket orr a warm cup of tea on an icy day. his fingers lingered, sliding down the curve of your spine to the small of your back, the heat of his skin making you shiver. a hand rose to your neck, resting over the golden chain, the other cupping his cheek. your thumb brushed across his bottom lip, the preamble to a kiss that made a frisson of warmth burst through your body.

“I love you.” you whispered back, kissing kissing kissing him. “I love you.”

“I love you.” he whispered, and you knew he meant it, the intensity of his voice, the closeness of his lips against yours, the way he cradled your body against him, like you were something precious, something cherished.

also posted on ao3

#nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami kento x y/n #nanami kento x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #writing #fic #fic: jjk #mine #drabbles

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loveharlow · 8 months ago

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SEVEN - 007

PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚[9.6k] based on 1x07 and 1x08.

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, violence, mentions of child abuse, mentions of su*cide, blackmail, breaking and entering, mentions of gun use/murder

NOW PLAYING‧₊˚

A/N‧₊˚ hope y'all are excited for the next chapter as it is the end of season one, cheer or cry, it's up to you. also small heads up, the series masterlist will be updated with some small things that'll help me flow this series better in between seasons.

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

“HELL OF A JOB MELTING THIS SHIT DOWN, DR. FRANKENSTEIN.” JJ directed the jab at Kiara, holding the solidified glob of gold in his hands as The Twinkie pulled up to a pawn shop on The Cut.

“Like you could’ve done better.” She retorted, being the first to exit the van as the rest of you followed.

“I could have.” The blonde boy sassed back. “You’re not the one who has to pawn off this piece of shit. How did I get this job anyway?” He muttered, hiking his backpack up his shoulder and walking off into the corner store.

“‘Cause you’re the best liar.” Pope chipped in. The bell above the door chimed as the six of you entered, an elderly black woman punching in numbers at the register turning her attention towards you all.

“Afternoon, ma’am.” JJ greeted.

“Afternoon.” She had a bit of sass in her voice, probably suspicious of six teenagers walking into a pawn shop mid-day.

“I see you buy gold.”

“That’s what the sign say, don’t it?” The shop owner clapped back, a hand on her hip as she pursed her lips.

“Well, I sure hope you buy a lot of it, ‘cause I’m about to blow your mind.” He told the older woman, swinging the backpack off and practically slamming it down on the counter-top.

“I ain’t got much mind left to blow, so have at it.” She challenged in her southern drawl. JJ pulled the gold from his bag, placing it in front of her. She simply laughed. “That ain’t real. It can’t be.”

“That ain’t real?” JJ raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter. “Feel how heavy it is.” The woman took him up on his offer, struggling just to lift the melted mess off of the counter. She eyed him and up and down before pulling out a magnifying glass with a light attached, examining the gold further.

“Hm. Spray-painted tungsten.” She claimed confidently.

“Spray-painted tungsten? Really? Okay.” JJ crossed his arms and stood to his full height. The rest of the pogues wandered around the small shop while you remained next to JJ. “Why don’t you see how soft it is?” The shop owner took a hammer and nail to the block, tapping it with enough force that if it were fake, it would’ve broken easily. “Wow. Would you look at that?” JJ taunted.

“Hold ya horses.” She reprimanded. “We ain’t got to the acid test, yet.” She eyed him, turning around to grab a dropper filled with liquid before returning to her stance in front of the two of you. She let two measly drops of the liquid hit the gold, nothing happening as she did so. “...Well, it ain’t plated, and it ain’t painted.” She muttered to herself. “It looks like somebody tried to melt it down.”

“My mom.” The blonde boy blurted. “She had all this jewelry laying around the house and she thought it was best to melt it down. To, uh, consolidate it.” You turned your head at the idea, struggling to hold in a small laugh. You wondered if JJ ever considered silence as a reply.

The dark-skinned woman placed the gold down on the scale behind the register, the object clanking as she let it go. “Seven pounds? That’s a lot of earrings.” She told the both of you.

“To be honest, ma’am, it’s really hard to see my mom fall apart with Alzheimer’s.” JJ fake pouted, sniffling as he looked down. You couldn’t help but look around, muttering ‘what the hell’ under your breath.

“Mhm.” Was all the woman offered in response. “I’ll be right back.” She dismissed herself, heading towards the backroom of the pawn shop. Once she was out of sight, you lightly backhanded JJ’s shoulder.

“Ouch! What was that for?”

“Alzheimer’s? Really?”

“I had to sell it. Shed a couple tears, y’know?” He tried to reason. You simply scoffed, calling the boy ridiculous as the woman returned to her place behind the counter.

“So, I talked to my boss,” she started, shifting awkwardly behind the register. “And this is what I can do.” She slid a piece of paper across the counter, a number written on it. JJ just peered up at her through lidded eyes.

“Fifty-thousand?” He questioned. “You think I walked in here not knowing the spot price? Ma’am, I know for a fact, this is worth one-hundred-forty. At least.”

“Well, sweetie, you in a pawn shop. This ain’t Zurich.” She told him.

“...Ninety, or I walk.” He insisted.

“Seventy. Half price and I don’t ask questions about where you got this.”

JJ chewed the inside of his lip, eyeing the five of you before looking back at the woman. “I’d like that in large denominations, please.”

“Well, the snag is, I don’t have that much denominated, not here anyway. I can write you a cashier’s check.” She offered, hand on her hip.

“No, ma’am.” JJ declined. “I want the cold hard. That’s what the sign says.” He pointed to the poster in question. “Cash for gold. And that’s what I expect.”

“...Well, I have to send you to the warehouse. I have the money there. Is that all right?”

JOHN B HAD THE DIRECTIONS TO THE WAREHOUSE, DRIVING ON A BACK STREET IN THE CUT. “So, the warehouse is out here?” Pope questioned, voice laced with worry.

“That’s what she said.” JJ said absentmindedly before chuckling to himself. “That’s what she said…”

“Stop.” Pope demanded, rolling his eyes.

“I’ve never even heard of Resurrection Drive.” Sarah piped up from the passenger seat.

Suddenly, police sirens blared behind The Twinkie, a car with cop lights directing John B to pull the van over.

“Why are we getting pulled over?” John B inquired, pulling the van to stop and demanding JJ to stash the gold away. He hid the object under the seat in the back of the van where the remaining four of you sat. You couldn’t see what was happening in the front of the van completely but you swore you heard a gun cock as John B’s head whipped to the left.

“Why don’t I go ahead and see them hands in the air?” A brassy voice came from the driver’s side window and you swore you saw the end of a shotgun barrel just inches away from John B’s face. “All of y’all — hands in the air, now!” The guy commanded, all of your hands getting thrown up. The lower half of his face was covered with a skull-decorated mask but he looked so familiar...

“You get out of the car. Let’s go!” He urged John B, the boy in question slowly exiting the the van from his side. The masked man instructed your friend to let the rest of you out of the vehicle, following his every move with the end of the gun. John B slid the side door open, never taking his eyes off of the guy.

He yelled at all of you lay down in the ditch, basically shoving the fire arm in your faces as you all practically fell to the ground out of fear. The man backed away, telling you all to keep your heads down as he edged toward the van, jumping inside and beginning to rummage inside of it.

“That bitch set us up.” You sighed quietly, voice shaking from fear. There was no damn warehouse and Resurrection Drive didn’t exist.

“That old bat shanked us.” JJ said frustratedly. “Fuck!” He slammed his fist on the ground, right next to your head. You heard Sarah whimpering, the sound prompting to look to the side where you saw John B getting up from his crouched position.

You frantically waved one of your hands, trying to get him to lay back down. He simply put his fingers up to his lips, signaling you to ‘sh’ before booking it towards the blue sports car with red and blue lights still flashing in the window.

Just then, the guy hopped out of the van. You bit your lip out of anger when you eyed the gold clutched in his palm. He pointed at all of you still on the ground, not noticing John B’s absence. “Don’t move. Unless you want your goddamn brains blown all over the dirt, don’t move your fuckin’ heads!” Was the last thing he said before jumping back into his own vehicle where John B must’ve been hiding.

The five of you shot up when the sports car started to shake, some kind of altercation happening between the two guys.

“Guys, I got the gun!” JB shouted from inside the car, the rest of you rushing over with JJ at the forefront of the group. Pope grabbed the gold from the passenger seat, announcing his victory as the rest of you jumped the criminal. You managed a nasty kick to his chin after Kie got him on the ground, rendering him incapable as Sarah slammed the open car door against his head.

JJ gripped him by his shirt and sat his limp, breathless frame against his own car and you all circled around him. He didn’t waste time in snatching the mask down, revealing the thief’s identity.

“Barry?” You blurted out before you could think about your surroundings, all heads turning to you.

“Hey, Snoozie.” He dragged out breathlessly on the ground, gold grills glinting in the sun.

“You know this guy?” JJ asked, pure confusion in his eyes.

You stuttered to find a response that wouldn’t raise more questions. “I’ve... seen him around before…”

“He’s a basehead. Sells coke to my dad.” JJ’s mind left the topic alone in his rage.

“Probably knows my brother...” Sarah muttered. Barry tried to plead, saying he wasn’t gonna hurt any one of you but JJ was quick to shut him up with the butt of his own gun, hitting him in the face with it.

“JJ!” You all called out but he just pushed you all off of him, bending down to rummage the drugs dealer’s pockets and pulling out his wallet. He removed his ID, looking back and forth between the piece of plastic and it’s owner on the ground.

“We got one last stop.” He affirmed, stomping off towards the van. “Let’s go see where this son of a bitch lives.”

“I DON’T KNOW ABOUT THIS, MAN.” Pope voiced his worries from his seat in the van. JJ was driving, taking the group of you straight into ‘Crackhead Wasteland’ as Sarah called it. Pulling up in front of Barry’s trailer was something you never thought you’d be doing with the Pogues. Or at all, anymore.

The angry blonde didn’t say a word as he threw the driver’s side door open and got out, heading straight inside the trailer without looking back.

“Somebody should probably go-”

“I’ll do it.” You cut off Kiara, climbing over her and Pope to get out of the van, following JJ’s path. Entering the trailer, it smelled stale and it was so messy you could barely see the floor. Your eyes found JJ, scouring the cabinets and drawers and any place where you could store something — borderline ransacking the place.

“JJ, what are you doing?” You sighed, throwing your hands out as you made no moves to stop the blonde.

“Thou hath stealeth from us, we shall stealeth from ye.” You just scoffed, stepping towards him while he threw pillows around. “An eye for an eye, princess.”

“And then what? ‘Cause you know Barry isn’t going to just let this go. You can’t just a rob a drug dealer, JJ, he knows who we are!”

“And why is that exactly?” He stopped in his haste, approaching you with quickness, combats boots dragging across the floor. The blonde was inches, centimeters, away from you now — your noses almost brushing as he stared down at you. “I’m starting to realize that you have some secrets that you don’t want us to know about.”

“This isn't about me-”

“First, it’s the Sarah drama. Then it’s Rafe acting like he knows you and now? Now, you got a south-side drug dealer callin’ you nicknames like he has you written down in his book.” He listed. “I’m starting to think that we don’t really know you at all.” That statement hit you hard, almost physically recoiling at how bad it hurt your heart.

You didn’t even think JJ noticed half of those things, or were bothered by them. The last thing you wanted was for your friends to see you as some kind of liar. “I’m not scared of this guy.” He told you, making his way towards the back rooms as you leaned your forehead against the wall, knowing you weren’t gonna be able to stop him from whatever he’d set his mind to.

The boy retreated from the room, small duffel bag in hand and stomped right past you and out of the trailer. You eventually pushed yourself off of the wall, following him out of the house.

“Alright, so we’re looking at five-grand each as reparations for putting us through that bullshit.” He counted out bills in his hands as your feet touched the grass behind him, the remaining four of the group looking at him bewildered while you just stared irritatedly at his back with your arms crossed.

“So, that’s what we’re doing now? Robbing drug dealers?”

“This Barry guy’s going to find out.” Sarah told him. “And he’s gonna come after us.”

“Yes, he will.” Pope backed up the blonde girl. “This is not the time to start wildin’ out.”

“How’d you guys like having a gun pulled on you?” JJ semi-shouted, John B stepping into his bubble.

“Relax.”

“He had it right here on you, bro.” JJ continued ranting, pressing his finger into John B’s forehead.

“We’ve gotta go get the rest of the gold, okay?” John B reached for the duffel bag. “Just give me that shit, we’re putting it back-” The Routledge boy was cut off when JJ abruptly shoved him against the exterior of The Twinkie. He looked at his best friend, appalled for a moment. “You feel like a tough guy? What’re you gonna do when he comes for us?”

JJ put down the arm that was holding John B against the van before grabbing his backpack and hiking it up his shoulder. “I’m not putting it back.” He said with conviction in his tone before getting into the van, none of you following him inside. “You guys gettin’ in or what?”

When nobody moved, he looked around at all of you silently, meeting each of your eyes before throwing himself back out of the vehicle. He stood before the five of you now, shrugging his shoulders. “What?”

“We’re sick of your shit.” John B told the blonde, stepping up to him once again.

“Oh, my shit?”

“Yeah, your pulling guns on people shit.” Kiara backed up JB.

“You acting like a maniac-” Pope tried before he was cut off.

“Okay…Pope, I took the fall for you, man!” JJ tried to get through to him. “You know how much money I owe ‘cause of you?”

“I’m gonna pay you back and I didn’t even ask you to do that!”

“I just did pay it back!” JJ screamed at the boy. “Right here, right now, by myself.”

“JJ,” You spoke up for the first time in the last couple of minutes. “My mom has the restitution handled, okay? We’re not blaming you, alright?. But we're already in deep shit.” You tried gently, not wanting to upset the blonde more than he was already. “Just put it back, J.”

He simply bit his lip and shook his head, not meeting any of your eyes. “Nah, don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it.” He spoke, grabbing his belongings out of the van. “You can tell mommy to keep her money.” Was all he said before turning his backs to all of you, walking off.

You sighed, taking wide steps in his direction. “JJ, come on-” You tried before you were being held back by John B.

“Just… let him go.”

You huffed, turning around to look at your group of friends. “Did you guys really have to say all of that?”

Looks of offense and confusion spread across their faces. “Are you seriously blaming us?” Kiara questioned your judgment.

“I’m not blaming anyone but you all just jumped on him as if we haven’t been in this together.” You clarified, eyes on Pope. “You may not have asked him to take the fall but he did it anyway.” Your eyes drifted towards Kie. "The gun is only an issue for you until you think we need it." Then you were looking at John B. “He’s been doing all of this for you. We all have.” You reprimanded finally.

“...JJ isn’t the most level-headed person but he’s not the root of our problems, either.” Was the last thing you told the remaining four of the group before getting into the van.

“I CAN FIGURE IT OUT TONIGHT, GET IT DONE, AND WE CAN GO BACK TO THE HOUSE TOMORROW MORNING.” Pope explained his plan to retrieve the rest of the gold. The boy thought it was best to get the rest of it and store it somewhere secure until you all could find someone who wouldn’t rip you off considering what happened this morning. You’d all gathered at The Wreck, sans JJ, who no one had heard from since he went off on his own a couple hours prior.

“All right, let’s do it.” John B slapped his thighs, ready to stand before Sarah spoke.

“What about that thing with my dad?”

Pope paused, looking between the couple and craning his neck forward. “What thing?”

“I…have to go fishing with Ward.” You couldn't help but chuckle from your place against the wall, the sound coming out as more of a snort as John B shot you a side-eye.

“You’re giving up four-hundred mil’ to go kill fish?” Kiara asked unbelievably.

“Blow it off. It’s four-hundred million in gold!” Pope tried to reason.

“Look, I have to, okay?” John B said finally. “He saved me. If it weren’t for Ward, I’d be in foster care. So, I have to go. Plus, it’d be better to go after the gold at night, anyway.” The empty restaurant went silent, all of you letting the topic go. You simply pushed yourself off of the wall.

“Well, while you have father-son time with Ward Cameron, I’m gonna go track down our friend.”

AFTER SEARCHING FOR JJ FOR HOURS WITH NO LUCK, you returned to The Chateau as night fell. You hadn’t heard from John B and Sarah in hours but had texted Pope and Kie to meet up. You had to return home, begrudgingly, considering your own car had been sitting there for weeks now, collecting dust, and you needed it to make the search for JJ easier.

Pulling up, wheels crunching on gravel as you did, you parked and cut the engine just as Kie and Pope pulled up next to you in his dad’s truck. He was the first to speak as all three of you got out of your seats.

“I didn’t know you still had that thing.” He told you, eyeing the Boxwood Green Ford Bronco.

“I don’t drive it often, especially since we’ve all been riding around in the van as of recently.”

“Isn’t it-”

“My dad’s old truck, yeah. It needs some TLC before I can drive it for real. I got passed by a family of squirrels on my way over here...” You breathed out, eliciting small laughs from the duo.

“...Any luck finding JJ?” Kiara asked you. You shook your head despondently, shrugging your shoulders as your smile fell.

“I checked everywhere except his house. I figured if he did stop there, it couldn’t have been for long. But he’ll turn up, I guess...” You spoke softly, disappointment lacing your tone as you fiddled with your nails. “He always does.”

Suddenly, the greenery surrounding The Chateau was lit up with fairly lights, all of your eyes scanning the twinkling objects with confusion.

“What the hell…” Pope muttered. You all gave each other cautious looks before following the lit path up to the backyard where the boy you’d been searching the island up and down for was sat in a hot-tub surrounded by champagne glasses, inflatables, and flamingo LED posts.

“JJ?” You asked, perplexity lacing your tone as you eyed the inflatable birds in the water.

“What did you do?” Pope was quick to ask.

“I got a jet going straight up my butt right now.” He ignored both of your questions. “Y’all should get in immediately. The water’s amazing.” He advised, pouring himself a glass of champagne and cheering with himself before downing it.

“Where have you been?”

“How much did this cost?” Kiara overshadowed your initial question.

“Uh… pretty much all of it.”

“All of it?” Pope was beyond appalled. He looked like he would blow any second. “You spent all the money in one day?”

“What? Can’t a man have a little luxury in life?” JJ threw out, slurring his words mildly. “I mean, like, guys — we only live once, right? ”

“Are you kidding me?” Pope yelled. “You could have helped us buy supplies to get the rest of the gold out of the well!”

“Or literally given it to any charity!” Kiara backed up while you just stared at the blonde as he got visibly more and more agitated as his friends tore into him. You felt just as bad as when they did it earlier but you couldn’t argue that it wasn’t more justified this time. That fact didn’t make your heart ache any less for your friend. Your best friend.

“Okay, well you know what? I didn’t do that!” JJ shouted, now standing in the hot-tub. His bare chest on display for you all to see the big patches of bruises that littered his skin. You felt your jaw drop so fast, eyes laser-focused on the injuries. “I got a hot tub. For my friends.” He continued as your eyes, that wouldn’t leave his torso, filled with tears.

They were so purple, so vivid, so huge. And you knew only person could’ve given JJ Maybank fresh bruises so quickly.

“No, you know what? Screw friends. I got a hot tub for my family.” He cried. “I got this for you,” He spoke as his eyes shifted in your direction and stayed there, watching as your own drifted slowly from his bruised body to his teary, blue eyes. “Look what I did for you! Look at this!” His voice was watery as he pleaded.

You forced your lips back together, suppressing the sob you could feel building in your chest as one lonely, burning tear ran from your eye. You didn’t waste a second in walking forward and stepping into the hot tub, standing right in front of the distressed blonde. His eyes were on you now and you could see everything behind them that you couldn’t from just five feet away.

You may have given the boy whiplash with the way your arms wound around his neck and pulled him down into the tightest hug in the world in the less than a millisecond, the action so fast it made the water splash around you both as he stabilized himself.

There was a pause before his own arms encircled your waist, so tight you could barely breathe but you didn’t care. You could hear his sobs in your ear, feel his tears trailing down your neck and you basically cradled him.

“I’m so sorry.” You cooed, one of your hands now soothing his hair down.

“I was gonna kill him…” The blonde wept into the crook of your neck. You couldn’t control the tears that fell from your eyes at that, leaning your head so that it was slightly on top of his as you chewed the inside of your bottom lip to control your own sobs.

“I won’t let anything happen to you ever again. I promise you that.”

THE MORNING AFTER WHAT HAPPENED WITH JJ, you’d spent the night with him at The Chateau, Kie and Pope being summoned back to their homes. You figured it was about time to return home as well, at least to feed Marley and what not. Lightly shaking JJ’s shoulder, who was in a deep sleep next to you on the guest room bed, the blonde groaned before stretching, almost punching you in the face as he did so.

Informing him of your plans to head home and come back, he assured you that he’d be fine and that he needed to shower anyway. With that green light, you got out of the bed and slipped your shoes on before leaning down to give his sleeping figure a half-hug and a hair-shuffle. You shouted that you’d be back as you slipped out into the backyard, heading for your parked car.

The drive back home wasn’t long but it was awfully dreaded. Between the hunt for gold and the constant discourse between you and your mother, it seemed as if a break was never in the cards for you.

The sun had come up not to long ago, reaching its peak in the sky as you pulled into your Figure Eight driveway, casting a orange hue over the Cul de sac. You immediately took note of your mother’s car parked in the driveway as well, internally groaning as you did.

Walking up to the front door, you could immediately hear the faint sound of your mother yelling from inside the house. Your hand hovered above the door knob for a moment, listening to her muffled protests until you snapped out of it and entered the house quietly, careful to close the door slowly behind you.

You could tell her voice was coming from upstairs, most likely her bedroom on the upper floor all the way at the end of the hall.

“You’re going to screw us!” She yelled as you edged your way up the stairs, careful not to make the wood creak or wake Marley’s sleeping figure on the couch, where she wasn’t really allowed to be. You stood at the top of the steps now, eyeing her bedroom door from feet away that was cracked open. “Oh, your plan? What exactly is your goddamn plan, Ward?”

Ward? Why would your mother be on the phone with Ward, screaming at him in the early hours of the morning? You crept closer and closer to the door until you were at least a good ten feet away, just enough to hear her clearly.

“Peterkin and Shoupe already found Big John’s glasses on that damn island, it’s only a matter of time. And you taking a dead man’s son out to fish is not a good plan!” She mocked angrily, shuffling around her room. The unpredictable slam of objects causing you to flinch and press yourself against the wall, heart pounding in your chest as you continued to eavesdrop.

“That boy won’t tell you a damn thing about the gold. I risked my career to cover up what you did and now you’re going to screw us both over because you’re getting greedy. And I refuse to go down with you. I have everything I need to put you behind bars, don’t you forget that.” What the hell was she talking about? Your mind was running a mile minute trying to put the pieces together, if they’re even were any. “I will get in my car right now and take those files down to Peterkin if need be. Do not fuck with me, Cameron.”

Whatever was going on sounded too sinister to be any good. Your mother and Ward Cameron were the world’s most unlikely duo and you were sure that the nature of their discussion wasn’t property development or criminal justice. And by the sounds of it, they were talking about Big John and John B.

And if John B was staying at Tannyhill and Ward, as well as your mother, knew about the gold, then everything just took a very wrong, dark turn. Suddenly, something in your gut shifted and you had to get out of the house. Now. You descended the steps as quickly and quietly as possible, pausing when you got to the bottom of the steps.

“...I have everything I need to put you behind bars…I will get in my car right now and take those files down to Peterkin…”

...Files. If you wanted to know anything about whatever your mom knew, it had to be in whatever files she had that allegedly had the capability to take down a neighborhood king such as Ward Cameron himself.

But she didn’t keep work stuff at the house.

It was all at her law office.

Whipping your head side to side, scanning the kitchen-slash-living area, your eyes landed on the table next to the front door where her purse stood next to the bowl where she would drop her keys. Rushing over to it, you leaned over it, relief filling you when your guess was confirmed, the keys to her office sitting lonely in the bowl. You snatched up the keychain, looking back at your sleeping dog before exiting the house and practically sprinting towards your car.

YOUR CAR SKIRTED TO A STOP OUTSIDE OF THE OFFICE, killing the engine as you practically flew out of the driver’s seat and up the short steps that led up to the front door of ‘R.R. Law Firm’. The keys rattled as you shoved them into the keyhole, letting yourself into the workspace. You power walked through the waiting area, making a b-line for your mother’s main office.

The door was closed, her name printed in big, gold letters across the frosted window. You knew this had to be an in-and-out operation, considering the office opened in the next couple of hours and your mother had a knack for showing up early.

Walking into her office, you didn’t know where to start. The wooden desk, the drawers, the cabinets, her desktop. On a whim, you immediately went for the computer in the center of the desk, waking it up as you were immediately greeted with a password screen.

You smacked your teeth, taking a guess — her birthday? Wrong. Your birthday? Wrong. Her wedding date? Wrong. You decided to give up, knowing you didn’t have the time to play guessing games and potentially miss anything that could tell you what the hell has been going on under your nose for who knows how long.

You spotted a file cabinet in the corner of the office, unlike the others. It had key holes for each cabinet. Looking down at the stolen keys in your hand, there were only three on the metal ring — her house key, the office key, a smaller key that you hadn’t taken notice of before.

Pinching the silver object between your fingers, you walked up to the tall cabinet, sticking it in the highest drawer and twisting before pulling the receptacle open. But it was empty. And so was the next drawer. Your eyebrows pinched together, why have a locked cabinet with nothing to hide away?

So, with a passing thought, you skipped the third and fourth drawers, aiming straight for the fifth and last drawer, inserting the key and pulling it open. Almost struggling to do so with how full it was. Of course it’d be hidden in the very last drawer of a locked cabinet — hide and hide again.

It was folders on top of folders but one thing caught your eye — a manila folder with the word ‘POGUES’ written across it in bold, black letters. It was the first thing you reached for, despite it being smushed under other files and hard to get out. Once you had it between both of you hands, free from the cabinet, you just stared at it before sitting down on the floor.

Flipping it open, you felt your heart drop as your face twisted.

There were pictures. Of you and your friends that you didn’t know had been taken. Photos of you all boarding the boat the day before you found the Royal Merchant out in the storm, the photo of you and Pope sinking Topper’s boat, of you all gathered at The Wreck. Someone had been following you all for days, weeks. But why?

You soon had your answer when you went further into the photos, uncovering others underneath — a picture of Big John’s compass, photocopies of the maps you’d found and a picture of you all gathered outside of the Crain house, a note written on it. ‘They found it?’ was all it read. More importantly, you recognized pictures of pages out of your journal, pages that detailed the events of your gold hunt. Journals you always kept in your room.

You didn’t even take notice of the tears welling in your eyes until one dropped onto the pictures laid out on the hardwood floors. You quickly wiped the tears away, shuffling all of the photos back into the safety of the folder and going back into the storage bin to retrieve the next thing that caught your eye — a folded up piece of paper tucked into the corner. Unfolding the paper, you were immediately perplexed.

It was a list of payments. A bank statement. A log keeping track of monthly payments made out to R.R. from W.C. and it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together — your mother was keeping track of payments that she’d been receiving from Ward for eight months straight.

Just weeks after your dad was found.

There was an initial payment of five-hundred thousand dollars and then monthly deposits of fifty-thousand dollars from seven months ago up until the beginning of…this month. Something about it made you want to throw up. Ward Cameron had been paying your mother large sums of money ever since your dad passed and nothing about that sat right with you.

Going into to the drawer you pulled out the last two items remaining — two FedEx Packages individually labeled B.J. and O.C.. You made moves to open the B.J. labeled package first with it being the lighter of the two, the other package nearly bursting at the seam.

There was only one thing inside. An cassette tape, labeled Big John. Your hands shook. You had no idea what could possibly be on this tape or why your mother would have anything about Big John stashed in her office. She wasn’t involved in his case, so what the hell was recorded on this tape that she had to hide it away. And using the little bit of brain power you had left, you figured if B.J. stood for Big John, then O.C. could only represent one thing.

A name. Owen Carter. Your father. And suddenly, opening that second package became less appealing and you needed to get the pogues together to piece this all together. Because you had a very bad feeling that this gold wasn’t as off the radar as you all had initially assumed. And maybe those square groupers weren’t the only ones after it.

Or willing to kill for it.

“What’re you doing in here?” Your eyes shot up from you place on the floor, landing on your mother’s figure standing next to the open office door. When did she get here? Her own eyes drifted to the documents laid out in front of your frame sat on the floor, and then to the open cabinet.

You could hear your heart in your ears, your hands braced behind you. The first thing your mind told you to do was run but for some reason, you went against all caution. Snatching up the document that’d been pressing in your mind since you read it, you questioned her. “What is this?” You asked, slowly standing up and presenting the bank statement to her. You wouldn’t dare step closer.

You didn’t feel safe.

“Why were you going through my things-”

“Just answer the question.” You demanded, shaking the paper. “You’ve been getting money from Ward Cameron ever since my dad died. I want to know why.”

“Ward is... he's a donor for the law firm-”

“Don’t lie to me.” You cut off the woman as she started to take steps towards you. “These were made out to you. To your personal bank account, not the firm.” You informed. “I have a right to know.”

“There are things you don’t understand. Just put all that stuff back, it’s work related-”

“Stop lying to me!” You broke down, throwing the paper to the floor. “You have pictures of me and my friends, recent pictures. You have information on the Royal Merchant, the payments from Ward, and information on Big John and my dad.” You listed off, tears streaming as you snatched up the cassette tape. “What’s on here? Huh?” You held the object between your fingers, watching her eyes go wide.

“Put that down.”

“What’s on it?” You pressed, an expression of pure anger spreading across your mother’s face that you’d never seen before. “And the other package?” You motioned for the parcel that you’d had yet to open. “What’s in there? What are you hiding-”

“Do you ever think that I don’t have to tell you everything?!” Your mother snapped. “I am the adult here. What I do is none of your goddamn concern. So, when I tell you to put that stuff back,” She trailed, taking quick steps towards you until she was just inches away. “You put it back. Give that to me.” She spat before reaching for the tape in your hands, but you threw your arms out of her reach.

“No! Stop!” You screamed as the woman gripped your arms. “Let go of me!”

“Give me the damn tape, Y/n!”

The dispute went on for a few moments until you took the opportunity to push her away from you, her cell phone falling from her pocket as she stumbled back. A message coming through just as the device hit the floor, screen side up.

W.C.

The kid got away. He knows.

You both looked at the message, then back at each other. That’s when you knew. Your mother knew a lot more than she ever let on and she wasn’t the only one. If she knew about the gold then there was no doubt that Ward knew, but the compass. If she had photos of the compass, and John B gave it to Peterkin, then that was one more person on the list of people not to trust.

And now, by the looks of that message, John B found out something and he could be in just as much danger as you. You immediately turned to grab the files, you couldn’t leave them. You had to take everything. No matter what.

Your mother practically tackled you to the floor from behind, dragging you both down onto the hardwood. Your chin thumped against the wood, causing you to bite down on your lip, yelling out in pain. You managed to flip onto your back underneath the woman she attempted to pin your swinging arms.

“Get the hell off of me!”

“I can’t let you leave!” She hollered in your face, one of your hands successfully grabbing a hold of her hair and using it to yank your mother off of you, rolling onto your stomach to push yourself up. You went for the papers again, only to be grabbed once more by the back of your neck. You screamed out in pain as her fingers dug into the back of your neck.

You managed to kick her in the kneecap, causing the woman to fold in pain as you attempted to create distance. Failing to do so, however, as she quickly recovered and slapped you across the face, so hard, you were sure that the rings on her fingers left a series of scratch marks across your cheek.

In your stunned state, she took the opportunity to pin you against the wall with her forearm pressing painfully up against your throat, cutting off most of your air supply. “You can’t tell anyone. Do you hear me?” She sneered, her face inches from yours. “Why couldn’t you just leave it alone?” Her words were jumbling together in your ears, the only clear sound being a ringing noise.

Was your own mother really so lost in her own rage that she’d kill you to keep whatever happened a secret?

You were losing air by the second, your vision going blurry and cross-eyed. Fight-or-flight kicking in your, you used whatever strength you could muster to bring one hand up enough to claw viciously at her eye, your mother crying out in agony as she released you to hold her eye. You took in a big gasp of air and used your foot to kick her down as hard as possible while she now clutched her abdomen with one hand and held her eye with the other.

Wasting little time, you bolted towards the documents and gathered them all in your arms before making a b-line to the front door and out of the office. You almost tripped down the steps trying to make it to your car. Throwing the pile of papers and parcels into the passenger seat, you threw yourself into the driver’s seat and sped off, leaving a cloud of smoke behind you.

YOUR TRUCK KICKED UP DUST AS YOU PULLED INTO THE FRONT YARD OF THE CHATEAU, JJ, Pope, and Kie already standing starstruck outside. “Where’s John B?” You asked breathlessly, frantically, as they all turned their looks of shock to you. JJ was the first speak, taking steps towards you.

“What the hell happened to your face?” He questioned, eyes on your busted lip and the claw marks decorating your cheek.

“Where’s John B?” You ignored the blonde in your hectic state, breathing heavily and eyes roaming.

“He just left...” Pope told you.

“He said something about Ward knowing about the gold.” Kiara cut in. “...He thinks that Ward killed his dad.” You sighed, looking down at the items clutched in your arms, the pogues noticing them now, too. “What is all that?”

“We’re about to find out.” You told them. “Where’s the tape player we found in the tomb?”

“SO, YOU STOLE ALL OF THIS FROM YOUR MOM’S OFFICE? AND SHE’S THE ONE WHO SCRATCHED UP YOUR FACE LIKE THAT?” JJ questioned as you splayed the stolen documents out on the coffee table inside The Chateau.

“Yes,” You spoke, opening the tape player and inserting the cassette. “I heard her talking to Ward on the phone and, I don't know, something didn’t feel right, she was threatening him with information she had, so I broke into her law office.” You explained as they all crowded around your sitting figure on the couch. “She had pictures of us, pictures of my journal pages, of the Royal Merchant research we found…I think she had something to do with what happened to John B’s dad.” You told them solemnly. “And mine.”

“I thought they ruled your dad’s death as…” Pope started, looking for the words to approach the sensitive topic. “As a suicide.”

You sighed. “They did but I never believed that. He wasn’t depressed or anything, or at least there were no signs. I know him, if it were true he would’ve left a note or something. A man as happy as my father doesn’t slit his wrists and walk into the ocean without saying goodbye. But I didn’t want to believe that the truth was any darker than that, honestly. So, I accepted what I was told.”

“What do you think the tape will prove?” Kiara piped up, leaning against the couch. You simply shrugged.

“I don’t know. But better to know than be left in the dark, right?” You concluded before pressing play on the tape record, the cassette whirling inside before a voice came through. It was Ward’s.

“Why am I doing this again?”

“You want my help?” Your mother’s voice replied, digital and static-like. “This is collateral. I help you cover up what you did and this is insurance that you won��t screw me over in the end. If I go down, so do you.” She said. “Start from the beginning, don’t leave anything out. What happened the day you killed Big John Routledge?”

You could Ward’s sigh before his voice came through once more.

“...It was a mistake, a stupid accident. It was that morning before he was pronounced missing, Owen, Big John and I were out on the water.” He explained, your heart racing. You weren’t aware that your dad was working with Ward. Or even knew him outside of a general context. “Big John, he brought us out there to talk. He told us that he’d found it, he’d found the gold. We were happy but he was focused on other things, said he need assurances. Legal assurances. I tried to tell him that we were all partners, that it would be split evenly. But he didn’t like that…”

He continued. “...He said he never agreed to it. He felt like the twenty-years he’d spent looking for the gold entitled him to a bigger share than Owen and I. He wanted to give Owen and I ten percent each, twenty percent total while he took eighty. I couldn’t do it. I tried to tell him that I’d supplied the boats and money and that Owen got the diving equipment, we both tried to tell him that it wasn’t fair. But things got heated, spiraled out of control. He grabbed me, I hit him, and Owen tried to break it up but we didn’t care. Big John, he tripped. I pushed him back and he tripped over a loose piece in the boat floor and hit his head on the edge…”

“...He started bleeding everywhere. It wouldn’t stop. I tried to console him, to fix what I’d done. But Owen was freaking out and Big John was losing consciousness. And Owen, God, he tried to call someone on the radio but I wouldn’t let him. I was scared. He kept saying we needed call someone, over and over but I ignored him and… I decided to throw Big John overboard. I thought he was dead. Owen… he was spiraling. He started calling me a monster, saying that Big John was our friend. I tried to calm him down and get on the same page but it was impossible. And when he and I got into it, he managed to get away on the emergency lifeboat we’d taken with us. Do you want me to tell you what happened to Owen?”

“No,” Your mother’s voice broke through after Ward’s monologue. “That will be recorded separately. For now, I just need to know if you’ve told anyone else, any of this, besides me.”

“Yes. Scooter Grubbs. He knows everything. I enlisted him as my new partner after what happened.”

“And what happened to Big John’s boat?”

“I sunk it. I didn’t want anyone to find it.”

“...That’s all I need for now. End of Confession Tape One.”

…The room was silent for a while, all four of you taking in the heap of information at once. Kiara was the first to break the silence, voice full of sad rage. “So, Ward actually killed John B’s dad.”

“This is so fucked.” Pope huffed, one hand on his head.

“What did she mean by tape one? Are there other tapes?” JJ spoke up, eyes on you before his next question left his lips. “Are you okay?”

You were biting your lip, holding back tears as you shook your head side to side slowly, your watery eyes meeting his. “No. I’m not.” None of them knew how to react, Kiara giving you a side hug while JJ and Pope sat in silence.

“...Should we open the other one?” Pope questioned after a moment of silence, referring to the parcel with your father’s initial on it. But you weren’t ready for that. You would open it eventually. You had to. But you had all the information to help John B right now. So, that was the goal.

You shook your head, wiping your palms against your thighs. “No. Not right now.”

“Don’t you want to know what happened to your dad? Who was involved?”

“I’m pretty sure we have those bases covered, Pope.” You laughed out sadly. “The only thing that package could have is the gorey details that I didn’t know. If, and when, I open that, I won’t be any use to you all, no matter how bad it is. Or isn’t. I’m just…not ready.”

THE THREE POGUES LEFT YOU ALONE AT THE CHATEAU, they figured it was good to keep an eye on Ward. They advised you to hang back, rest a little. But sleep wasn’t coming easy to you. You figured John B would return at some point from wherever he went. It was the early hours of the morning, close to one, when you heard the door slam shut, his voice echoing around the house.

“Pope? Kie?” He called out in the dark of the shack, you sat up from where you were laid out on the guest bed. Coming out of the room, you leaned tiredly against the door frame..

“They’ve gone Ward-watching.” You yawned, crossing your arms.

He smiled smally at your presence before basically charging towards you and sweeping you into a bear hug. “You have no idea how much I needed to see you.” He mumbled into your hair as your face was buried into his chest. When he pulled back, his hands were on your shoulders as he stared into your eyes, his smile dropping. “I have to tell you about Ward. He tried to kill me, Y/n. And I went to see Ms. Lana, she told me-”

“I know.” You cut him off. “I know everything. About Ward and the gold…about your dad. My mom is involved somehow, she had all this stuff in her office. She documented everything…” You explained, eye drifting to where the heap of evidence laid on the coffee table still.

“...What about your dad?” His hands dropped from your shoulders. “The story I got from Lana, she said that when Ward left, he said he had loose ends to tie up. She said Scooter was positive he was talking about your dad.” Your eyes were focused on the last unopened package as John B spoke.

“I’m pretty sure I can find that out but I don’t want to. Not now.” You spoke, tone firm. You didn’t have many more tears left to cry. Turning your sights back to JB, you continued. “Right now, we get some sleep and get the gold out of the well first thing in the morning. We can deal with everything else later. We can’t let him win, John B.”

WHEN YOU WOKE UP THE NEXT DAY, John B was gone. You had no clue where he went until he came back hours later, saying we needed to get everyone together, excluding Pope who had his scholarship interview today. When the missing two arrived at The Chateau, meeting you and John B on the pier behind the shack, he explained everything.

The gold was gone. When he’d woken that morning, he rushed to The Crain House, the estate littered with ‘for sale’ signs and Cameron Development construction equipment. He’d managed to get into the well himself, only to discover that the gold was gone. Every trace of it. Ward Cameron had the gold and no one knew where he or it was.

“You’re sure he got everything?” Kie questioned once he was done as she sat next to John B, who was splayed out on the wood.

“Every bar.” He sighed despondently, snatching the cast off of his arm after minutes of fiddling with it. “Look, it’s not like I expected a happy ending or some shit.”

Suddenly, Pope came running down the landing, dressed down in his professional attire. “Guys!” He stopped in the middle of the four of you, hands on his knees and a sweat stain in the middle of his powder blue button up. “Oh, God. I ran all the way down here.”

“You all right?”

“How was the interview, Pope?”

“Don’t ask.” He panted, standing up straight. “JB, Look dude, I’m sorry. About everything.”

“It’s fine–”

Pope cut him off. “But I don’t have a lot time but I have information that is tactically relevant.” He started, looking around at all of you. “So, before I had my interview, my dad said he was going down to the private airstrip to cut palms for Cameron’s big plane.” All of you perked up at this, John B showing the most expression he had in hours. “Because it was too heavy, it needed a longer landing strip to take off. So, I’m there sitting in my interview thinking to myself, hm, why would Cameron need a longer airstrip to take off?” He spoke enthusiastically, hands moving every which way as he paced the dock.

“What could be so heavy to weigh it down?”

“...Gold.” JJ realized, staring down at John B.

“Exactly.” Pope pointed excitedly. “Guys, this is our chance, but it leaves tonight, and we have to go.”

“Guys, we can’t give up now.” Kiara smiled.

“What’s the plan, big man?” JJ asked, leaning against the wooden pillar holding up the structure. But John B was looking at you.

“We’re gonna steal that shit back.” He half-smiled, sitting up now. “He doesn’t get to win.”

PARKING THE VAN BEHIND THE WIRE FENCE THAT ENCLOSED THE AIRSTRIP, you all ran towards it, grabbing a hold of the gate. Pope had a pair of binoculars, using them to get a better view of the interactions taking place.

“They’re loading up the gold.” He informed before JB snatched the binoculars away, using them for himself. Without the optical assistance, you could still get a vague view of what was happening through the trees, watching as a familiar blue Range Rover pulled up.

“There’s Ward.” John B said. Two people exited the car, John B’s face falling as they did so.

“What?” Kiara asked, noting his solemn expression. “John B, what?”

“...It’s Sarah.”

“She’s with him?” Pope whispered as if anyone could really hear the five of you.

You all continued observing, watching Sarah pace up and down the airstrip, approaching the workers who loaded the gold. Even from your distance, she looked frantic. Worried. Then Ward was grabbing her by the arm walking her to the plane but she resisted.

Within seconds, her father had picked her up by the waist and basically dragged her into the plane, her screams echoing throughout the open space.

“He’s hurting her.” John B said aloud before rushing towards the van, hopping in and starting the engine, catching all of your attention.

“Hey. What’re you doing?” Pope asked, throwing his hands up while John B reversed the van. You all started yelling and running towards the van but he started driving before you could pile in. Then it became clear when he drove the The Twinkie, straight and clean, through the wire fence and onto the airstrip, heading straight for the plane.

You all yelled after him, running thorough the break he’d made in the fence before deciding collectively to not assume you could catch up to motor vehicle in time to stop him. All the four of you could do was watch as the plane propeller’s whirled, the aircraft making a u-turn to face the correct direction of the landing strip.

John B’s van came up right beside, keeping speed with the larger vehicle. It wasn’t long before the smaller of the two was in front, John B driving the van right in front of the plane now. He brought it to a stop, parking it sideways in front of the oncoming aircraft.

You really thought that it was over. Your heart dropping in a way that made your knees weak, preparing yourself to see one of your best friends get rammed by an airplane. But at the very last second, the plane came to an abrupt halt. Shaking on its wheels just inches from the van.

The four you were relieved but only for a second before you were standing up straighter at the sound of police sirens. Pope practically flinching out of his shoes.

“Guys, I can’t arrested.”

“We’re on probation.” JJ added, referring to the two of you.

“Look, we’re no good if we’re all in jail.” Kiara reminded, guiding the three of you to follow her into the mess of palm trees and bushes, away from the private airstrip. You all ran for what felt like hours, making a good distance between yourselves and whatever was going down between the three left behind.

Mid-marathon, you all ducked when you heard a gunshot reverberate throughout the woods.

“What was that?” You inquired, fear coursing through your veins. “Did that come from the airstrip?” You worried, making moves to walk back in the direction you ran from until a hand was gripping your forearm, eyes trailing up to land on Kiara.

“We can’t go back.”

“What if something happened?” JJ sided with you.

“If something happened, we’re too late to do anything now. And we’re too far. Guys, we have to go.” Pope assured. With you and JJ taking one last glance back, you continued following the opposing two further into the woods, carrying hope that John B was okay.

next chapter>

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popatochisssp · 1 year ago

Note

The Court AU has me DEAD!!! If you’d be willing, what sort of outfits would they wear? I’d love to draw them!

Anon, I had so many tabs open looking up medieval-type fashion and armor, we're talking like 30+, felt super awesome finishing this and closing them all 😌

Anyway--

Sans (Undertale): What’s black and blue and white all over? Why, him of course! His jester’s motley features a black-and-white diamond pattern, offset by bright, rich, royal blue—a mark of his service to the king. He doesn’t wear one of those silly hats, though…because he wears a silly hood instead! Less chance of falling off, you see. When not in costume he tends toward simple tunics, of decent material and often still in blue.

Papyrus (Undertale): Almost never out of full plate armor, even in downtime, he has to dress for the job he wants and that means being a shining metal bastion of knightly glory at all times! …Though he does often remove his helmet and hold it by his sword at his hip, or fasten it to his steed’s side. He’s a very handsome skeleton, it would be cruel to deny the people the chance to see their hero’s face!

Sky (Underswap Sans): Soft blues and yellows, as a squire only lightly armored—greaves and pauldrons, a mail shirt beneath his tunic if he’s expected to go into battle—but he considers even that much armoring to be overkill for what he’s doing. Still, his Captain insists, and it makes his brother feel better, so he takes care protecting himself. He has some nicer finery to wear about court, as a nobleman, but tends simpler for anything that might be dirtied or torn in training.

Paps (Underswap Papyrus): Rich green and earthy browns, his clothing tends to be without ostentation—no embroidery, no gold buckles or buttons, or anything especially elaborate. He may be noble but he’s a scholar and a recluse and prefers not to stand out much. Still, the fabrics of which his clothing is made are always fine, as coarse or stiff materials quite put him off. Mostly cottes—long belted tunics—with the occasional robe over, if it's cold.

Jasper (Underfell Sans): Blacks and browns, sturdy plain clothes which can stand up to considerable wear and tear. Often wears a short diamond-quilted gambeson and some leather armor (vambraces and greaves), but always has a sword belted to his hip and a cloak made of dire-wolf’s fur draped over his shoulders. If ever he should need to acknowledge his denounced family name, he does have some finer clothing stored away somewhere—in red—and a shiny gold signet ring with his family crest on it.

Pyre (Underfell Papyrus): Usually in half plate armor, dark metal heavily scratched and scorched, dents meticulously hammered back out. He also wears a tattered red cape about his shoulders that billows quite majestically behind him when he rides or runs into battle. He will occasionally dress down in laced tunics and breeches, still in red and black, fine but not too fine as to raise suspicion about his heritage. Should all that ever come out, he does have a suit of pristine night-black armor he’s been dying to inherit and a silken cape to pin about it with a golden clasp of the family’s crest.

Mal (Swapfell Sans): Mostly black but flaunts his privilege and royal ties with purple accents wherever possible. Brigandine armor with a fine gold-plated gorget and pauldrons and a few other ornamental trappings—he is the Empress’ personal guard and must in some capacity be as elegant. Very fine doublets and tunics for his (rare) downtime, often with gold threading, but not fond of most jewelries.

Rus (Swapfell Papyrus): Dark colors and crisp whites, noble yet eccentric, he has a lot of fine doublets and other such court-wear but tends not to actually…wear them. He can mostly be found in loose-fitting cottes, baggy sleeves often penned up by leather armlets to keep them out of his paints. He has a fur-hooded cloak for travel or cold weather, but he rarely leaves his rooms, much less the castle, so he doesn’t don it often.

Slate (Horrortale Sans): Dark browns and off-white cream, simple rough-hewn clothing showing signs of wear and occasionally odd stains. He works in the stables, with animals, and being around animals so much makes it difficult to keep clean. He has a somewhat decent dark blue cloak that he’ll wear into town for errands, or in polite company—it has a hood to conceal the great jagged hole in his head that tends to make the squeamish or timid flinch away from him.

Papy (Horrortale Papyrus): Still hasn’t quite shaken the habit to be armored, even when it isn’t necessary, but he’s cut down from full plate to chain mail only, much lighter and easier to move around in—which is vital when hurrying to the training field for an accident, or running to meet a wounded knight at the gates. He wears a simple tabard over his mail, blue with red edging (the Queen’s colors), and keeps a pouch of bandages and other aid supplies belted to his waist instead of a sword.

Ash (Undergloom Sans): The livery of the king’s court, gray and gold, but dyed into fabrics suitable for common folk. He still wears gray when not performing at court, tunics so thickly woven they could pass as a gambeson and often paired with hooded cloaks, but he keeps his golds set aside until needed to keep them in good condition. He takes equal care of his shiny brass sackbut (it’s a horn, with a very funny name but an instrument nonetheless) so it always plays well.

Yrus (Undergloom Papyrus): Off-white and tan linens, loose and breathable for hot work in the kitchens, sleeves rolled up and pinned at the elbows to keep them from getting in the way. Always an apron about his waist, occasionally with food stains after a long day’s work but these he quickly tends to as soon as he’s able. He has nothing in the way of real finery but tries very hard to make sure what he has is clean and presentable.

Brick (Horrorfell Sans): Fine brocaded doublets of rich red and shining gold thread, as a duke and brother to a king, he does have to dress the part a bit. He wears more jewelry, especially rings, but nearly always still has his dire-wolf fur cloak over his shoulders. When called for executions, he dresses down quite a bit, in simple black cloth with only a leather pauldron over one shoulder to help brace the weight of his axe before he swings.

King (Horrorfell Papyrus): Half plate armor essentially at all times, even formal or polite occasions—he’s the owner of a stolen throne and all too aware that it could be stolen from him the same way he got it. His breastplate is scaled and his pauldrons are elaborately spiked, but it’s all black. The only pop of color on him is his crown, the same worn by Asgore and Undyne, gold and sharp, with rubies inlaid.

Merc (Horrorswap Sans): Chain mail over a finely-made kaftan and beneath a traveling cloak, the latter two with signs of wear from a long journey. His head is notably absent of a crown—left behind in the kingdom he fled—but a new one awaits him soon, of flashing silver and blue stone, depicting the phases of the moon. When fully established in his new kingdom, he may begin dressing as a proper king again, draping himself in the blue and silver finery of the land that sheltered him.

Ell (Horrorswap Papyrus): Browns, greens, and blacks, he wears light leather armor—really just a breastplate and vambraces—and a thick woolen cloak about his shoulders. He has no need of greaves for his shins, legs lost to an accident in the wilderness, but supplanted by magical prosthetics, living blackened wood provided by his land when he called upon it for aid. …Not that he’s fully accepted that it’s his land, keeping his crown of twisting copper and emerald tucked away in a saddlebag instead of on his brow. Maybe someday…

Pitch (Horrorswapfell Sans): Rich purple and verdant green, amidst a sea of black—he favors very fine fabrics with open lacing at the chest. Still not especially fond of jewelry, but wears considerably more decorative leather braces on forearms, shins, and even the occasional full-chest corset. (He has some chronic pain and the extra pressure and support in certain spots helps.) He wears considerably more plain clothes for knight-training purposes and when traveling wears a black cloak with a cowl that comes down over the hole in his face at a point, as the beak of a raven.

Nemo (Horrorswapfell Papyrus): Usually in half plate splint mail armor for his patrols along the wall, but favors rusty oranges, brown and black for the tunics and boots and breeches he wears out of it. Often carries a lantern, and always has tinder in a pouch on his hip. Beside his pouch is a war-horn in case an alert would need to be called, loud enough to make everyone come running if it’s ever sounded.

Sunny (Gastertale Sans): A cavalierly styled courtier, at first having made do with graciously lent clothing and now being able to buy his own in a whole variety of rich colors—yellow, blue, magenta, and on. His aim is to look at home in court, which means he must dress as other courtiers do, so he has doublets and fine tunics and many, many fashionable capelets with embroidery and stylish pins, as well as a few equally chic plumed hats. The other courtiers look to him now for the latest fashion trends and he couldn’t be happier.

Aster (Gastertale Papyrus): A bit more subdued in style than his brother…though only a bit. He favors black frocks, almost as a cleric would wear, but beneath them, elegant doublets in greens and yellows as vibrant as anything his twin wears, with fine silver filigree work in his buckles and pins and clasps. He’s the pinnacle of restrained class and taste and it’s no wonder at all that the king should respect him so highly if his care in thought is as his care in appearance.

Spectr (Transcendtale Sans): Deep, dark black from head to toe, most prominently a long hooded cloak with two eye-lights glowing in the darkness. He always wears gloves and never lets his hood down, as he’s not especially fond of his metal bones and doesn’t really wish to be seen. It’s difficult to see in the daytime, but at night he’s trailed by faint wisps of ghostly light in all colors of the rainbow, such a strange sight that many a drunkard who’s seen him has poured out their bottle presuming they’d had quite a bit too much.

PapAIrus (Transcendtale Papyrus): Full plate armor, of course, but as he’s now some sort of spectral entity, it (and he!) glows and is slightly see-through. Being ghostly has washed out his colors quite thoroughly which is unfortunate—mostly all white with hints of silvery blue—but on the up-side he seems able to change his appearance some by will alone, donning or discarding his helmet at will, manifesting a majestic cape for himself out of the ether, and so on. It seems a fair enough trade to him!

Xanth (Ascendswap Sans): A man at court now, he’s donned an eye-patch and abandoned the trappings of prospective knighthood, fully embraced courtier fashion…if a bit ‘eccentrically.’ He favors bright yellows and spring greens, flowing garments of fine cloth layered beneath and over leather vambraces, gorget, and tasset. All these are elaborately, intricately designed and certainly make the similarly intricate gold jewelry (with multicolored gems) that he wears at wrist and neck stand out, but it’s hardly in fashion… Still, the mystic’s thinking is often inscrutable.

Piper (Ascendswap Papyrus): Unlike his brother, very fashionable and eye-catching, in rich amaranths and brilliant turquoises, with even the occasional lavender. He has many fine embroidered doublets, threaded liberally with gold, and wears many pieces of gold jewelry as well—necklaces, bracelets, pins, and brooches. When showing the birds of the crown at court or bidding them on a royal hunt, he wears the livery of the crown-proper—royal purple and gold—and always has a thick leather falconer’s glove on his left hand.

Carmine (Underfell Fruition Sans): What’s black and white and red all over? Well, newspapers haven’t been invented yet, so it’s him, of course! He’s no jester so he hasn’t a motley to wear to work, but he is a performer and does dress in the livery of the king, which is red and black. The material is a bit finer than he’s used to, but being that he’s no longer wearing rags and rotting in a hole, he’s quite pleased with it and doesn’t mind the bright colors that help him attract the eyes of many comely nobles at court. Off-duty, he sticks to loose, somewhat open tunics—red still very much preferred.

Tank (Underfell Fruition Papyrus): Laced linen shirts, not especially loosely fitting due to his largeness in the chest and shoulders but he hasn’t burst any seams in awhile so the measurements must be somewhat correct. He’s fond of white and a true connoisseur of red, all shades from dark to very light. He keeps an array of small carpentry tools—hammers, chisels, things for measuring—in a roll on his hip, a dedicated apprentice to the core.

Vi (Swapfell Fruition Sans): All black, pourpoint armor beneath fine silk doublets but almost disappointingly plain otherwise—no embroidery, no ornament, or stitched pattern, or brocade. Over this he wears a cloak, equally fine and with at least some ostentation, a bit of silver stitched decoration that matches the intimidatingly clawed silver gauntlet he wears upon his left hand—a symbol of his wealth, if not his status. These flashy items are for matters of court only, as he has a much more nondescript hooded cloak and less identifiable sharp implement which he uses for matters of stealth and misdeeds when it is important that he not be recognized.

Hunter (Swapfell Frution Papyrus): A prince in princely attire…mostly. He happily flaunts the color purple but proudly wears it with the black of his old family name, and drapes himself in silk tunics, fine (mostly decorative) pauldrons, capes and capelets. He tends to show off a bit more of his chest than seems appropriate for a man of his station, and seems to wear his elegant silver jewelry in ways such that the eye is drawn there, and…other places, but few question the whims of royalty. His pewter crown is heavy and inelegant and he’s talked much with his brother about how angry people would be if he had it melted and recast into something more stylish.

Kohl (Descendtale Sans): Plain, rough tunics, in black and dark brown. He wears a heavy fur-lined gabardine as it gets quite cold in the dungeons, though it’s uncertain where he managed to get such a nice garment. He keeps a knife on his belt, large and jagged-toothed, and though he hasn’t had need to use it yet, the threat of it tends to keep most prisoners from attempting to bring him harm.

Bram (Descendtale Papyrus): He’s traded in his full plate armor for a comfortably fit leather jerkin, accompanied by matching gauntlets to protect his hands and torso (inasmuch as they need protection, without flesh) from the thorns he trims back every day. He mostly wears black and white and brown, all things closely fit to his body, less they snag overmuch and need to be replaced too often. His clothing is simple but well-suited to his work, and he wears it nicely.

#anonymous #headcanons #court au #undertale #underswap #underfell #swapfell/fellswap #horrortale #undergloom #horrorfell #horrorswap #horrorswapfell #gastertale #transcendtale #ascendswap #underfell fruition #swapfell fruition #descendtale

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totothewolff · 5 months ago

Text

The Speed Game of Love

Toto x reader | comedy, crack humor (RuPaul's Drag Race bang), romance, fluff.

Summary: Three fierce queens will race for your love, but only one will win your heart. Could it be the spicy Carla LaTurbo Slayz, the fierce Adore D. Hammer, or the queen of England herself, GiGi Reigns? Or maybe that sexy host could get some! Hosted by the hot and only Toto Wolff. Author's note: It's short and fun. Y/N has the hots for Toto, as usual. Who doesn't?! Enjoy! Let me know your thoughts or if you have an idea, here I am."

More Toto Wolff fics right here > Masterlist

From the racing capital of the world is The Speed Game of Love.

And here is your host...

The hot and only Toto Wolff.

(Opening music plays, and the camera pans over the bright and sparkling stage. Toto Wolff is standing there in fullness, tallness, and hotness, just a few steps away from you. As you peek in from behind the entrance, he is looking as sexy as you expected that man to be, dressed in a sluty tight suit, his eyes set on you for a brief second making your knees and other regions jiggle as he starts the show).

"Welcome to the Speed Game of Love. I'm your hot, I mean host! Toto Wolff." he winks at you before moving to his mark at the cue.

(Cheers, gaps, and a loud moan come from the sound effect console as Toto passes a hand on his hair and smiles big and bright straight at the pro camera).

"Let's meet tonight's lucky heartracers!" he gestures with both arms to his left.

(Cut to a shot of the competitors, each one dressed in their best sickening drag looks, all sitting in white bar stool chairs next to each other)

"It's the Queen of tracks! And hearts! Adore D. Hammer!" Toto approaches a fierce-looking queen. "Ready to smash some?" Toto raises his eyebrows as he asks.

"Oh, dear, I'm more than keen for some hammer time!" Adore answers, thrusting with her hips slowly.

She's rocking a sparkly, sluty version of the iconic jumpsuit in neon yellow and black from MC Hammer's iconic "U Can't Touch This" music video, but cinched for the gods along with really high-platform sneakers.

The jumpsuit is embellished with rhinestones and sequins that shimmer and shine under the stage lights. Adore's dreadlocks hung loose around her ears but with a glamorous, over-the-top twist.

Her makeup is bold and bright, with bold eyeliner, vibrant eyeshadow, and a shining golden lip. Her skin is glowing with a subtle shimmery highlight that makes her look like she just stepped out of a disco ball.

Toto gives her a chuckle before moving along.

"Next, Carla LaTurbo Slayz!" He strolls to her, mic in hand. "Miss Turbo, I heard you got some horsepower tonight! How are you, honey?"

(After he asks the question, a loud moan is heard as a sound effect).

"I'm 'fuel'-tastic, Toto!" she blows a kiss to the camera and shows some lil' leg.

She's rocking a stunning, one-shoulder gown made from the finest silk in a rich, jewel-toned red that evokes the majestic flamenco dancers of Andalusia. The dress is fitted and figure-hugging, accentuating her curves in all the right places.

Her hair is a masterpiece; a few strategically placed braids and hairpins add a touch of Andalusian flair.

Her eyes are lined with bold, black kohl and smudged with shimmery gold eyeshadow to create a sultry, seductive gaze. Her lips are painted a deep, crimson red. Her accessories are chunky gold jewelry.

"Up next, it's GiGi Reigns. Is Your Highness ready to conquer this race?" Toto turns to her, bowing first.

"Keen to have a smooth pit stop and a great finish!" an old lady's voice with a thick Windsor accent answers.

She is rocking a look that's equal parts regal and ridiculous. She's donning a velvet-trimmed corset and hoop skirt that's so big it requires its own zip code.

The skirt is a riot of colors, with florals and patterns. GiGi's hair is a marvel; think Elizabeth I's famous ruff but on steroids! Her locks are styled in towering curls that resemble a pompadour.

Her makeup is a masterpiece of over-the-top opulence. Layers of foundation, blush, and powder are applied with the precision of the era, but they make her look old, really old, with wrinkles adorning her features.

Her accessories are an array of fake pearls that look like they belong on the Queen herself.

"Let's start your engines! Close that pit wall!" Toto instructs as the obstructing divider slides from the wall. It looks exactly like a pit wall fence but glamorous, all in metallic pink, blocking the view from both sides.

As you are about to enter the stage, an empty, small white podium is waiting for you.

"Our wag tonight is from (Y/N's City/Country). Meet (Y/N's profession/studies), Y/N, Y/LN!" Toto introduces you as you step in, smiling at him.

"Mmm, you look good!" Toto runs his eyes all over your body as he approaches you and offers a hand to help you step on the podium.

You feel the heat instantly.

"What brings you smoking gear around here? Did your engine overheat?" Toto addresses you, starting to lean closer to you.

"I'm just looking for touch at this point!" you answer, plain and honest.

(Aww noises come from the sound effect panel).

"Uhmmhu!" Toto gets closer to you than his mark on the floor suggests. He gestures to you to articulate more as he stands by your side, slowly sliding a hand down on your back.

How you react to his touch makes him smile naughtily.

In between a nervous giggle, you explain: "I tried the apps and whatnot, but nothing worked, so my friends suggested I come here to speed up the process. You know, to look for something accelerated, fast-paced." You wink at him, gaining confidence, feeling his eyes traveling down your lips and neck.

"Oh, so you like it fast-paced? Who doesn't like to get their flag chequered hard!" Toto keeps your game of innuendos, flirting with you along.

You nod and bite your lip; he arches his eyebrow slightly.

"Then, you came to the right place!" his voice is deep, and he flexes his arm so you can enjoy the view of his muscles as Toto grabs his mic. "So, Y/N, here's how the game works: You ask the heartracers some questions, and they will try to win this lap for your heart with their answers. When the time runs out, you choose who steps into your podium. Are you ready to race?"

"I AM!" you feel pumped up!

(Engine noises are heard in the studio, indicating the start of the lap).

You read one of your cue cards. "Heartracer number one, finish the following sentence: If I was your car to run me on a race, you would leave me (blank...) at the end."

"In desperate need of a new set of wheels. Oh! I would run you relentlessly from one side of the circuit to the other!" Adore answers, jumping on her feet and doing the iconic MC Hammer moves, passing by in front of the other contestants.

You laugh and nod at the excellent answer. "And you, number two?"

"I would leave you revving for more! You would want me to run you down over and over again around these corners." LaTurbo answers with a very sexual voice, sliding her hand all over her body curves.

"And you, madam, number three?" you ask.

"At the finish line... eventually! I'm a lady of a certain age, darling." GiGi Reigns' elderly voice answers, making you and Toto burst into giggles.

"If it was me, I would have you shifting gears so hard that I would end up breaking you down. But that's me!" Toto jokes, inserting his answer there. "Let's move on to the next question, shall we, Y/N?"

"YES! Let me push that pedal all the way in!" you joke back.

"All the way in?!" Toto asks, now curious, in a high-pitched voice. "Fast-paced and all the way in. Taking notes!" He swaps his cue cards around.

"I think that one's hammer is starting to show! Haha," GiGi Reigns adds, inserting herself into the conversation, bumping Adore with her hand, and both of them taking a small peek at Toto's crotch.

"Please, give head, go ahead, I meant!" Toto jokes with you.

"Based on yourself, how would you prefer to be called if you were a fuel brand?" you ask the contestants.

"Piston Pumping, you gotta keep the hammering for miles long!" Adore gives her answer in perfect branding.

"Fuel-in' Around, just kidding," Carla waves her hand.

"The Lube for The Crown, cause at this age, darling, you need some extra help." GiGi slowly spreads open her legs, making rusted noises, cracking you up again.

"I'd be, Fuel Me Maybe, you know, like tonight, after this show," Toto flirts shamelessly as the game progresses, making it clear that he's interested in none other than you.

"Final question," you go ahead. "Imagine you are an F1 team. Sell yourself to me."

"On the Hammerella F1 Team, competition can't touch us! We are faster than you can say parachute pants!" Adore D. Hammer answers.

"On El Toro Racing, we are unleashing the bull full speed, with fury and passion and with a whole lot of rhythm, ahhhh." Carla LaTurbo's every word gets more sexual somehow as she answers your question, her hands going all over her neck and legs.

Finally is GiGi's turn: "On the Motor on the Bus, The Queen's Royal Racing Team, we race round and round, vroom and vroom, all through the town." She pauses before adding, "But with protocol, dear."

GiGi's stupid answer makes you gag.

"Oh, time is up! Y/N, who do you choose from our heartracers? Number one, two or three?" Toto comes near to you again.

Fuck! He smells so good! That's an arousing cologne.

(A dramatic pause comes before you turn straight at him to give your definitive answer).

"You," you point at Toto. "I choose you!" answering aloud to everyone's... actually... to no one's surprise!

"I'd love to take you for some good ol' laps!" he blows a kiss to you. "But first, let's meet the ones you didn't choose! Say hello to Adore D. Hammer."

"Oh! This hammer would have broken you in half, dear!" she jokes with you as she looks you up and passes along, thrusting the air on her way out.

"and Carla LaTurbo Slayz," Toto again shouts, extending his arm.

"This," she closes her hand at you, moving it around your body, "Has red flag all over," she says, belittling you as she goes out, pretending to be insulted by you rejecting her.

"Finally, GiGi Reigns! Madam..." Toto bows one last time.

GiGi takes her time walking there, making grunt noises as she grabs her back, complaining, making you two lose it.

"I, TOO, CAN COMMAND THE WIND, SIR!" She screams out of nowhere in the most Shakespearean voice, catching you two off guard.

Like GiGi got possessed for a second before she composes herself and gives "royal hand waves" politely as she dramatically exits.

"WHHAAT?" you say, catching your breath between laughs.

"Ready to blow my engine?" Toto triumphantly asks, holding you up like a trophy as he wraps his arm around your waist.

"Against the pit wall?!" you joke around, laughing on his lips, standing next to it.

"Another Speed Game of Love with a... happy ending! To me!" Toto winks. "Good night, everybody!"

(You two wave at the lense before you wrap him in a passionate kiss as the camera cuts to black)

You don't make it further than his dressing room.

The audio crew picks up the loud moans and smashing noises coming from there, as Toto is still wired, and they quickly turn off the equipment.

Join us at The Wolff Pack Discord Server > https://discord.com/invite/tpgArxqbfd

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