#in order of their involvement with the series

[tomsparkyr]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝟏!

following episode six of 'inside' — george clarke x fem!reader

by any means i do not own 'inside' and all credit is theirs (!!)

(I’M SO SORRY IN ADVANCE my little heart needed to have some angst but to make it up to you im extending this series to their lives outside of inside!! it will involve you in george’s stream and videos; insta au, twitter au, etc etc too)

(lowk took my anger about the chelsea v ipswich game out on this so apologies😭)

(also also also !! any requests put in will happen i promise once i finish this series bc im in love with the ideas you’re putting in so it’ll only be a matter of time xx)

wc: 8.3K

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“PK, we’ll start with you. Please make your way down to Room 19.” Vik ordered as you all sat in your previous seats.

You turned to Milli, “This can’t be happening right now…” You whispered, watching her face blank and attention directed to the floor as she chewed on her lip. She feared the worst after being awarded the winner of the talent show, a target placed on her back at the worst time possible.

You reached your hand out to hold hers in comfort as George had his arm slung over your shoulder, leaning into his chest as your knee bounced up and down in nervousness. George pressed a soft kiss against your head, “You’re alright.” He murmured against your temple.

Once you were called over to vote someone to be eliminated, you sighed and stood up from your seat, glancing over at George and Milli one more time, shooting them a sweet smile.

Entering Room 19, you settled yourself down on the comfy sofa and crossed your legs, fiddling with your fingers as you debated your answer. “You guys are such dicks, you know that.” You pointed at the camera for starters.

“I’m going with this person because I feel like their alliance is strong and if you really want to win this game, you have to break them up… as mean as that sounds.” You cringed at your words. 

“Also, I’m convinced this person will most likely vote for me so I’ve gotta back my chances of not getting voted out. So with that, I’m voting for Whitney.” You nodded awkwardly at the camera. 

The crew inside Room 19 told you it was a good enough answer and requested you return to the living room. In doing so, you trudged back with a sigh and a sick feeling swirling in your stomach.

It was pretty obvious from previous encounters that people in the house were out to get you, so your chances of being voted out in this scenario were quite high, as much as you didn’t want to admit it. You knew you had people who wouldn’t vote for you, but the alliances were stacked against you.

You entered the room and fell back into your previous position, George greeted you with a soft smile that didn’t reach his eyes, but his arms were out for you to settle in.

“All right, guys. I don’t wanna be doing this.” Vik started, his hands clasped in front of him as he rocked on his feet next to Specs. “We had a lot of fun. I genuinely actually really enjoyed hosting that talent show, but the person eliminated from Inside today is…”

Your legs shook in nervousness and Milli’s head leant itself in your shoulder, neither of you feeling safe in this case. George’s hand intertwined with yours and stared at your side profile, you looking forward with your eyes trained on Vik, mentally begging him not to call your name out.

“Y/N.” Vik announced. 

A couple people gasped and Milli’s jaw dropped next to you, her face painted with guilt and sorrow. George’s hand squeezed yours and you felt his tense up next to you, his eyes closed shut and lip caught between his teeth. You could hear him muttering beside you, “No, no, no.” His cheeks were flushed and he ran his hands through his hair as the consequence of his actions crept up on him.

“And Milli.” Vik announced.

Everyone’s head snapped towards the two who stood up, jaws dropping as Milli’s face paled. “What?” Her voice shook.

“Only one of you will be eliminated.” You threw your head in your hands as you felt the overwhelming pressure and sickening feeling settle in your stomach. Milli shook her head, “No. I’m not…” She peered over at you. “I’ll go.” She gripped your hand.

“Unfortunately, Milli. You can’t decide that… a game of rock-paper-scissors will decide your fate.” Vik reluctantly said, looking at the pair of you distraught on the sofa.

“Fuck.” You heard George curse next to you, his grip not loosening as you sat up and faced your new best friend in here, realising that in this moment, you could lose one of the people you were closest to in here.

You swallowed and looked at Milli who shook her head with a frown etched across her face. You both shared a look of agreement, that neither of you would be mad at the other if you were to go, and that the first thing you would do as soon as you leave this place is contact each other (and tell the other all the gossip they missed, but that was irrelevant right now).

Both of you held your fists out and counted to three, before you held out a scissor motion with your hand. Your heart dropped as you looked down at Milli’s which was held out in a paper motion. 

“Oh my God.” You mumbled and left George’s grip, lunging yourself into a tight hug with Milli, her arms wrapping around you. Milli smiled and shook her head, “Y/N, it’s fine. I’m glad I got out because of you.”

You couldn’t help but feel immense guilt, not that it was your fault in any way, it was pure luck. Milli pulled away from the hug and placed her hands on your shoulders,

“You’re gonna win it, girlie.” She whispered and winked at you, voice low enough so no one else could hear as they all stood up to bid their farewells to Milli.

“Milli, you have ten minutes to collect your things and leave the house. You are eliminated from Inside.” Vik looked down at the floor.

Milli looked behind you and nodded for you to turn around, and in doing so, you made eye contact with George who was now stood up. You looked back at Milli who smiled at you, mentally telling you to seek him out.

You walked over to George with your head hung low, feeling his fingers brush your forearms. “You okay?” He whispered and ducked his head down to try and read your face. He understood from the shake of your head that you weren’t doing alright, and quickly pulled you into a tight hug, his hand placed on the back of your head and hid your face from the rest of the group.

His other hand rubbed up and down your back, guiding the pair of you to follow the group as Milli packed up her things. George brushed a stray hair away from your face and tucked it behind your ear, “Come on, let’s go say goodbye to Milli.” He said as his thumb lingered on your cheek.

Your heart sunk further into your stomach as Milli edged closer to the door, the constant reminder that it was partially your fault, or it could have been you with your suitcases in this moment was in the back of your mind.

“Hey, George, close the door.” Jason laughed as Milli waved from the otherside of the doorway. Milli jokingly shouted, “No!”

George leaned for the handle, “Stay out!” He laughed as he shut the door. As everyone made their way back into the living room, you peered into the glass window of the door and gave Milli one final wave goodbye, her reciprocating it and blowing you a kiss as the elevator doors closed on her.

As you walked back to the group, Cinna slung an arm around your shoulder, “You alright?” You looked at her and nodded slowly, “I will be.” She smiled at you.

“We’re so doing streams together once we’re out of here.” She nudged you with a wide grin on her face. You matched her expression, “Fuck yeah we are.” Cinna clapped and skipped back to the living room, pulling you behind her as your laughter could be heard around the house.

time skip!

You and George sat on the sofa with your feast settled on the cushions next to the pair of you, your back against his chest and his fingers rubbing circles into your skin that was snuck underneath the hem of your shirt.

You felt and heard him laugh behind you, his chest vibrating against you. Tilting your head back, you smiled at him, “What are you laughing at?” You poked at him.

George shook his head, “Nothing.” He shrugged. Not accepting that as a good enough answer, you sat up and turned to face him. “Well, obviously it’s something.” You shuffled towards him.

You watched him sigh and he intertwined his hand with yours. “It’s just funny…” He started but his voice trailed off. “What is?” You asked.

“Us.” He licked his lips. He took your furrowed brows as a sign to carry on, “It’s just ridiculous how we’ve been friends for ages and all it took was us being forced to live together for 5 days that I grew the balls to actually kiss you.”

Your cheeks grew red as you laughed at him, “If that’s how you wanna put it.” You shoved him in the shoulder lightly with your free hand. “It’s true though!” He defended his statement.

Your laughter quietened down and you stared at each other for a moment, “I can’t wait til we get out of here.” He whispered and edged closer to you. You leaned into him slightly, “Why’s that?” A smile crept up on your face.

“Because then we can act like a couple without cameras watching everything we do.” George said as his fingers toyed with yours. You raised a brow, “A couple?” He nodded with a soft smile etched on his face, “I’ll make it offical once we get outta here, don’t you worry about that, darling.” He ran a hand through his hand and grinned as your cheeks grew a shade of red.

“And I can do this without anyone interrupting us.” He leaned in and pressed his lips against yours, a hand finding its way to hold the back of your head and bring your face closer to his.

You smiled into the kiss and rested your hands on his chest, the fabric of his shirt bunched in your fist slightly as George deepened the kiss. 

His other hand left yours and settled on your hip, squeezing it lightly as the sweet kiss continued.

George leaned into you which made you push him back with a laugh, “Not in the feast!” He looked around and saw the pizza resting on the cushion and nodded in acceptance. 

You were lucky that George had pulled away from the kiss as Cinna walked into the room, the remaining Insiders trailing behind her as she waved everyone in, “Attention! Everyone!” She shouted, holding an envelope.

You and George got up and stood around the table with everyone else, “It says, ‘Congratulations Cinna. You’ve successfully completed your mission. You may reveal your mission to the group.’” Cinna read out loud.

“Guys, holy fuck! Today has been shitty.” Cinna flung her head back. You looked to your side to see George munching away on the pizza, barely recognising that Cinna was announcing something. You slapped his bicep with the back of your hand and nodded for him to listen in on Cinna; him responding with a grumbled confusion with his mouth full of food. You shook your head and balanced on your tip-toes to mutter to him, “Just listen and stop making out with the food.”

George coughed a laugh and covered his mouth as it was still stuffed. He swallowed and nudged his foot with yours, “Jealous, babe?” 

You furrowed your brows, “Babe?” Your eyes crinkled as you chuckled, “That’s a new one.” You teased the nickname. 

George just shrugged his shoulders, “Just trying something out.” Cinna sighed with exaggeration, “Lovebirds! Listen in!”

“Anyways, we have a challenge, and the challenge was on me the entire day.” Cinna started. “The challenge was for me to lie and say that I was a traitor for the Sidemen in order to convince all of you that you had to do something, or that you had to keep that secret. You could not tell the other person. Y/N, I’m surprised you didn’t tell George if I’m honest!” She pointed at you from across the table.

You smile sheepishly, “I nearly did,” You gestured with your fingers, “If you hadn’t said today, George would have known by the time we were in bed.” George raised his brows and slung an arm around your shoulder.

Cinna faked a gasp, “You were gonna rat me out to your boyfriend?” George only clicked his fingers, “Fuck yeah she was.” He stuck his tongue out at the American across the table as you waved your hands for Cinna to continue.

“And all day, I’ve been working on this shit so we can save money, and you guys spent £50K on this fucking feast so…” She trailed off. You looked up at George who slowly put the piece of pizza down, “Your greed sickens me.” You whispered to him.

George ignored you and clapped his hands together for Cinna and cheered, everyone else following suit.

time skip!

You and George were led in bed, his arm draped around you as you were fast asleep on your back. George was sitting upright slightly talking to Cinna, you being completely unaware of the conversation going on.

“I’m fully fucking regretting my decision.” George admitted and ran a hand through his hair. “As soon as I… I mean, I regretted it as soon as I came around the corner.” George made an effort not to move so much, not willing to risk you waking up and listening in.

Cinna nodded, “Yeah, I got scared that they were gonna go over who voted for who. And if it was you and you didn’t get voted out, it means that’s why Milli went home.”

George inhaled sharply, “Yeah…” Cinna continued, “Which is what it could have been. I was like, ‘Holy fuck.’”

“That’s why I kept second guessing everything.” George mumbled, his eyes drifting to you asleep in his arms.

Cinna nodded towards your frame, “Are you gonna tell her that you’re feeling like this?” George shook his head, “No, Cinna. I fucked up today.”

The American tilted her head, “What do you mean?” George stared at you, your relaxed features and hair sprawled out on the pillow, looking beautiful in the shirt that belonged to him. 

He sighed and closed his eyes, “No… it’s nothing. Tomorrow is gonna be a whole different day.” 

time skip!

“Rise and shine!” JJ’s voice echoed around the bedroom, causing you to groan and bury your head into George’s bare shoulder. 

Your hands drifted to his back and lightly scratched the skin, “God, I’m never going to get used to that.” You complained about the shrill voice of your dear friend, feeling the urge to shout at him once you leave this house for waking you up in the most painful ways possible.

George sighed as you scratched his skin, “Don’t think the late night helped us, Y/N.” You felt him smirk against your temple. 

You flicked his arm and sat up with the duvet pulled against your chest, “We are not talking about that on television, George.” You mocked him saying your name just as he had done before.

George looked at you as he rolled to lay on his back, “Didn’t object when the shower was cold though--” “George!” You gasped, ushering him to quieten his voice down in the room full of people; not wishing for them to hear the 

late night rendezvous you got up to with George.

He laughed at you and reached for his cap that sat on the floor, placing the item backwards on your head. George patted the hat that sat on top of your bed hair, “Getting all shy the morning after?” He teased you. 

You rolled your eyes and flicked the cap off your head, placing it on George, “You should wear this more often,” You stared at his rugged handsomeness as his mullet poked out the back of the cap, “It suits you.”

George smirked and ran a hand through the hair that was poking out, “Got a crush on me, Y/N?” He laughed. You only sighed and tried to suppress a smile, muttering that you needed to get ready for the day as you left the bed and strolled to the girls sitting at the table.

time skip!

You were led on the sofa, legs propped up on Cinna’s lap as you were curled into the corner of the sofa. You were in a deep chat with Cinna, discussing the night before and what’s left to come, muttering how you missed Milli. “She’s so gonna make fun of me once she sees what I’ve been doing without her.” You laughed.

Cinna smiled at you, “I can’t wait for the edits to appear on my for you page, especially the ship ones!” She winked at George who was sitting next to you but engaged in a different conversation. You grinned, “There better be ones of me to Taylor Swift songs.” 

“Don’t worry, Chris will be on that.” George poked in the conversation, mentioning how his blonde friend back at home was a fan of the artist, hence why you and him went to the Eras Tour together.

Everyone in the room groaned as Tobi rounded the corner, “Hi, Insiders. How are we feeling?” He waved at all of you. You all murmured in response.

“Nervous?” Tobi tilted his head, “Do you guys know how to feel when you see me?” Shaking your head, Tobi smiled at you and continued.

“Insiders, one by one… you’ll be sent down to Room 19, where you will receive further instructions. While you are in this room, there must be zero communication amongst yourselves. If I see anyone break that, £20,000 will instantly be deducted from the prize fund. The first Insider to go down to Room 19 will be Mr. PK Humble.” Tobi said.

The room was suffocated with silence, dread swarming in the pit of your stomach, mentally praying it wouldn’t be the same situation as yesterday; you couldn’t go through all that again.

Once your name was called, you trugged over to Room 19 and sat in the familiar seat, stomach twisting with nerves. You were told the rules, vote for someone you want to eliminate and vote for someone you wish to gain immunity, but they were at risk of elimination.

You groaned, “Oh God, this is tough…” You bit your lip and shook your head, “I would vote George for immunity but I can’t take that risk, I can’t have him up for elimination.” You confessed to the cameras.

Your fingers wound together, “This is gonna sound so horrible.” You tilted your head back to hide the expression your face read, “But I’m going to vote for Whitney again. I’m convinced she doesn’t like me so I’ve gotta protect myself… I don’t know!” You gestured and laughed with nerves.

“And the other person I want to vote for is Mya.” You nodded, “Because I like to think she doesn’t hate me and we’ve bonded since the start, so I would like her to get immunity… and no one else will vote for her so I know she’ll be safe!” You smiled at the camera, pleased with your answer.

As you entered the living room once more, George winked at you as you walked back to your seat. Tobi pointed a finger at you, “Hey! No communicating!” Your eyes widened and looked between him and George, “We didn’t say anything!” You protested.

Tobi squinted his eyes and flickered his gaze between you two, “Fine… consider this a formal warning.” You sighed gratefully and fell back into your seat, legs placed back on Cinna’s lap.

“Insiders, you were each asked to vote for two people. I can now confirm that the most votes were received by… George.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach and your head snapped to face him, seeing him nod slowly in acceptance. You shook your head and your brows furrowed to try and hold back tears, the realisation that it was all over for you and George hitting you so suddenly, “I’m not--”

“And Farah.” Tobi finished.

You swallowed and your heart sank further as you remembered what you had to do yesterday against your best friend. “Meaning you’ve put us in that position again.” Tobi looked down.

George sighed and slowly inched his hand into yours underneath the cushion, fingers intertwining and squeezing your hand, worried he’ll have to let go soon. “Fuck.” He muttered.

“As we learnt yesterday, the person going home will be decided by a game of rock-paper-scissors.” Tobi repeated.

George glanced over at you, seeing you were already looking at him with a solem facial expression. He tilted his head and bit his lip to stop a frown sneaking its way on his face, “Y/N, please don’t.” He mumbled seeing your eyes flood with tears threatening to spill, hand cupping your face, “Don’t worry about me.” You shook your head, not trusting your words.

George leaned in and pressed a kiss to the side of your head as he was asked to stand up at the front, looking over at you one more time, “I’m fine.” He mouthed, but you could read his disappointed face he was trying to hide from everyone else, but you knew him too well.

You breathed out heavily, head resting on Cinna’s shoulder and she slung a comforting arm around your shoulder. Everyone stared as George and Farah nodded at each other, hands held out ready to play.

As soon as Tobi said, “Shoot.” Your eyes were trained on George’s hand, watching it form a fist; quickly switching over to see Farah’s in the form of scissors. You sighed and tilted your head back, listening to everyone else gasp in the room.

“Farah, you have been eliminated.” George immediately pulled her into a hug, obviously feeling at fault for her elimination, similar to how you felt the night before.

You walked over to Farah first, embracing her and flattening out the hair that had tangled on the back of her head, “I’m gonna miss you.” You reassured her, Farah’s smile filled with tears the only response she gave you, too overwhelmed to formulate a proper response, one in which you respected.

Watching Farah leave the room with everyone else, you looked behind you and saw George standing awkwardly to the side with his hands bunched in his jogger pockets.

You swallowed, “Don’t scare me like that.” You told him, breathing out as you felt tears well in your eyes as everything became all too overstimulating at the moment. Within less than 12 hours, you and George were one vote away from your bags void of this room and bed’s empty as if you were never even there.

George wrapped his arms around your waist, swaying the pair of you back and forth. You were still shaken about how you and George had nearly been sent home, and the fact that you had lost some of the people you were closest with in this house.

George’s hand stroked the back of your head, “That was fucking awful.” You mumbled tearfully into his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat to calm yourself down. “It’s alright, it’s alright.” He whispered into your hair, repeatedly pressing kisses on your forehead to sooth you.

You pulled yourself back from his chest, still leaning against him as you tilted your head up to look at him. “Who did you vote for? Both times.” You whispered, hand fiddling with his top as he stroked loose hairs back from your face, wanting to capture your beauty more.

George held your face in his hand, pausing before saying, “Whitney.” You nodded and tried to hold back your tears for the second wave. Your lips trembled as your voice broke, “Me too.”

George pressed his forehead against yours, “If you leave, I’ll leave too.” 

Tears started running down your face again, George tugged you into his arms more securely. “I’m so sorry.” He mumbled into your hair. 

You chose to ignore his apology, seeing as it wasn’t relevant, it was never his fault you two were both forced into these situations. You only pulled him into the hug tighter, his reassuring words going deaf to your ears; just one more day and you’ll be leaving this house, with or without the money, but definitely with George.

time skip!

“Foam dart blaster! We could all get Nerf guns and have a Nerf gunfight!” George exclaimed, joy written all over his face as he shook your shoulders from behind, reading out the items from the shop.

You gasped as you read the list, matching George’s excitement. “We could team up!” You twisted to face him, raising both your hands to high five him. He grabbed your hands and jumped up and down with you, both of you squealing like kids.

DDG confirmed one dart blaster to double check what they were like and when the item emerged from the shop, everyone gasped and tried to reach for it. “Oh my God!” George’s grin grew wider. DDG pointed at George, “Get five more.”

Cinna counted out the rest of the people as George stood up to the camera, “I’d like to confirm seven dart blasters.” He smiled at the camera.

The door opened to reveal all the dart blasters, everyone reaching for one. “Look at the state of these things!” George gasped and dragged you over, holding your hand. “Damn! Fuck dinner. Let’s go eat this.” He admired the blasters, passing one to you.

You turned to Cinna, “He’s actually gonna pick a dart blaster over me.” Shaking your head and pointing at George as he cradled the weapons. He nodded at you with raised brows, “You’ve been replaced, I’m sharing the bed with these tonight.” 

Cinna laughed at your blank facial expression, you looking at the camera to check if you had heard George correctly.

After some time, you sat at the table with Mya, chatting about life and what you’re going to do with the money if you win it. Your conversation was interrupted as George tapped you on the shoulder, “Come with me.” He winked, your eyes glancing down at the gun slung over his shoulder.

You grabbed yours off the table and rounded the corner to see Cinna and PK led on the floor as if they had been shot, “Say hello to my little friend!” George reenacted and started shooting at the pair, you laughed and joined in, aiming for Cinna who didn’t realise there were two of you.

“What the fuck!” Cinna gasped and sat up, picking up her gun and aiming for you, getting a good few shots in. PK rolled around on the floor, you unable to hold your laughter in when George started yelling. 

Cinna managed to aim perfectly and hit you straight in the head, “Oh! Headshot!” She yelled out in excitement and cheered. You pretended to fall back and slide down the wall, playing the part as if you died, yet George hadn’t noticed and continued shooting.

You kicked George’s shin, “George! I’m literally dead!” Cinna burst out laughing. “What?” George yelled back but didn’t spare you a glance, still shooting PK.

“George, I shot your girlfriend!” Cinna pointed at your body on the floor. George furrowed his brows and looked down at you. He dropped his gun and dramatically yelled, “No!” He knelt down to reach your level. 

He was about to perform a full monologue mourning your death, but you couldn’t hold in your laughter and you leaned forward to rest your head on George’s shoulder. 

You nodded towards his gun behind him, “You went fully sexy Nathan Drake then.” You winked at him and he laughed as your niche reference. “Only you would say that.” He shook his head and offered his hands out to help you up off the floor, which you accepted.

time skip!

“Let’s recreate scenes!” PK had suggested, prompting all of you to reenact the moment Mandi was eliminated. “Where were we all?” You asked, looking around the room.

PK pointed at Cinna, “You and me, we’ll pretend to be Y/N and George!” The American hopped off her spot on the beanbag and layed out on the sofa. PK sat next to her and held her hands, shifting shoulder to shoulder with her. “We’re not gonna recreate it all because that wouldn’t be Netflix appropriate.” PK smirked, staring straight at the camera in the corner of the room with a suggestive eyebrow raise.

Your mouth dropped open, “We are not like that!” You said as you watched PK and Cinna pretend to lean in for a kiss before staring straight at each other. Cinna whipped her head around to you, “Yeah! You’re worse!” PK threw his head back laughing.

Jason began the scene until he was interrupted with the TV behind him going off; ‘Please head to the Challenge Arena.’ It read.

Everyone exclaimed while some (Jason and PK) cheered. The group walked down to the Arena, the door opening to reveal a screen and a seat next to it, the screen reading ‘Spill The Tea.’

“I’m cooked.” PK laughed. George wrapped an arm around your waist and tugged you close, pressing a soft kiss against the side of your head and dragging you down onto the seat next to him, squished between him and Mya, his hand settling on your thigh as Ethan and Tobi stood proud before you.

“It’s time to spill the tea.” Ethan smiled, barely able to contain his excitement for the drama about to ensue. “Let’s see what you guys really think about each other. Each one of you will be called to the hot seat, and you’ll be questioned on something someone said or done, and it’s your job to get the correct answer.” 

After a couple rounds, it was PK’s turn to be in the spotlight. Tobi read off the cue cards, “Which Insider was told, ‘After our kiss last night, I haven’t stopped thinking about you.’”

You closed your eyes in silent horror, hearing the group of people around you all gasp and look between each other. PK’s mouth dropped open, “What have I missed?” He laughed and rocked on his chair. 

You and George subtly looked over at each other, trying to hide the grin and pink cheeks that were growing on both of your faces. “Who’s kissing who?” Pk mumbled to himself; George’s hand on your thigh tensed and squeezed it slightly as his attention remained on the man in front of you all.

PK squinted his eyes and pointed at you and George, “Somethings telling me it’s you two…” You held a straight face as Tobi’s stare watched to see if you communicated the answer in any way to PK.

PK smirked as he saw George’s hand comfortably on your thigh, “Yeah, I’m going with the two lovebirds over there.” 

Ethan nodded and urged everyone to look at the screen, “Let’s find out.”

The screen turned on to show you and George sat at the vanity in the bedrooms, staring into each other's eyes. The room gasped and bellowed in laughter and screams as the intimate moment between you and George was exposed, causing you to hide your face in his neck, hearing his airy chuckles as he watched on.

“And after our kiss last night,” Your cheek burned under his touch. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you. Everything about you, Y/N.” He whispered, heart sinking at your silence, “Please say something.” He pleaded.

Instead of saying anything, you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his harshly. He grunted in shock and quickly settled into the kiss, hand rounding to the back of your head and tangling in your hair, pushing your face closer to his. George tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips. You sighed at the contact and wound your hand through his mullet, finding yourself leaning forward to practically sit on his lap.

George noticed this and placed his hands on the backs of your thighs, hoisting you onto his lap, catching you by surprise. You yelped into the kiss which caused him to part from you for a moment, “You drive me insane, Y/N.” Your hands cupped his cheeks and you could feel his jaw moving from the intensity he was kissing you with, heat flowing through your body. 

“Well, PK. You got both answers spot on!” Tobi clapped. 

PK tore his eyes away from the screen with his jaw slack, “George, you horny bastard!” He yelled, pointed at the man who blinked in shock. You covered your mouth to suppress your laughter as everyone, including Tobi and Ethan, slammed the table near them in screeches of laughter.

It was then your turn to be in the hot seat, “Y/N, please join us at the front.” Ethan called your name, he avoided eye contact with you, a sinking feeling settling in his stomach as he held the cue card to reveal your question.

“Oh no…” You pulled an awkward smile, standing up from your seat and letting George’s hand that was resting on your thigh fall off. As you walked away, you heard him mutter a soft, “Good luck.” You winked back at him.

You sat down onto the stool, adjusting your hoodie as you felt your nerves perk up. Looking over at Ethan, he cleared his throat and looked at you with a guilty facial expression. “Y/N. An Insider has lied to you.”

Your eyebrows raised as the people sat down opposite you dropped their mouths open, Cinna looking between them all and mumbling a “What?”

You were shocked to say the least, “Oh…” You laughed awkwardly and fiddled with the hem of your hoodie as Ethan continued. “An Insider has previously lied to you about who they voted for. Please may you name who you think this Insider is.” He declared.

You licked your lips, peering over at the group and seeing their stoic facial expressions. You were confused, you assumed everyone had been truthful to you about their voting habits in the past, now second guessing everything anyones said to you beforehand.

Scratching your jawline, you wince and let your eyes trail everyones body language to see if anyone was subtly giving you a hint, despite it not being a part of the game. “Oh, God…” You bit your lip.

Cinna held a calm facial expression, you had already crossed her off your list as she confirmed to you a couple days ago that she wouldn’t and has never lied to you within this house. Mya looked downwards, actively avoiding eye-contact with you as she picked at her nails. George’s leg was bouncing up and down, his elbows leaning on his knees as his hand rubbed against his chin; he stared directly at you with pleading eyes, taking keen notice of how his face looked paler than usual. 

When you weren’t looking, George shook his head and made eye-contact with Ethan and Tobi on the side, both of them looking back at him with a subtle frown and a dreadful feeling looming over them.

You took a deep breath, “I’m gonna go with PK,” You pointed at him, “Only because I’m going off the assumption that they’re tricking me and the lying took place in one of the early days.” PK nodded at you with an understanding smile. “And me and PK weren’t close by then, so he might have lied to keep himself safe and in the game.” You reasoned.

Tobi nodded, “So your final answer is PK?” You deliberated for a moment, cringing and finalising, “Yes. I’m locking in PK.”

Tobi breathed out heavily and screwed his eyes shut, then pointed at the screen behind you. “Let’s see if you were right.”

You swiveled yourself around on the stood, “Fuck.” You bit your lip and tried to play off this whole event with a forced smile, your heart pounding out of your chest.

The TV flicked on and showed the image of you and George stood in an embrace after Farah’s elimination. 

Your eyes widened and you snapped your head around to face George, confused by this entire thing and allowing yourself to give him the benefit of the doubt at the moment when the video wasn’t finished.

George wrapped his arms around your waist, swaying the pair of you back and forth. You were still shaken about how you and George had nearly been sent home, and the fact that you had lost some of the people you were closest with in this house.

George’s hand stroked the back of your head, “That was fucking awful.” You mumbled tearfully into his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat to calm yourself down. “It’s alright, it’s alright.” He whispered into your hair, repeatedly pressing kisses on your forehead to sooth you.

You pulled yourself back from his chest, still leaning against him as you tilted your head up to look at him. “Who did you vote for? Both times.” You whispered, hand fiddling with his top as he stroked loose hairs back from your face, wanting to capture your beauty more.

George held your face in his hand, pausing before saying, “Whitney.” You nodded and tried to hold back your tears for the second wave. Your lips trembled as your voice broke, “Me too.”

George pressed his forehead against yours, “If you leave, I’ll leave too.” 

Tears started running down your face again, George tugged you into his arms more securely. “I’m so sorry.” He mumbled into your hair. 

The TV paused for a moment, allowing you to turn back to George who stared at the floor. Your brows were furrowed alongside everyone else's. You shook your head, “Wait, so who the fuck did you vote for?”

Ethan sighed, “Y/N, please may you turn your attention back to the screen.”

You obliged, swallowing a sick feeling bubbling in your throat as you heard George behind you protesting, “No, no. Let’s not--” “Y/N, watch the video.” Tobi stated.

Your palms were sweating and your head hurt as you watched the TV flick back on. A picture of George sat in Room 19.

George sighed, crossing his legs on the sofa as he held the cards in his hands, looking through the familiar faces before picking one out. He held the back of the card to the camera as he began to explain his voting.

“This is an extremely tough decision to make,” He said, fumbling with the corners of the card. “I like everyone in the house now, we’ve all warmed up to each other and I’ve already made memories to last a lifetime.” 

George licked his lips and shook his head, “But I feel like I’ve been playing it safe this entire time and it’s clear that in doing so, people have seen me as a target to vote out.”

“I can’t have people in here thinking I’m playing a game, we’re all here for the same reason and would go to certain lengths to get it.” He rubbed his face with his hands, groaning into them. Then leaning back and resting both of his arms on the back of the sofa.

“I’ve decided to vote for this person because I’m completely convinced that they’ll be safe, so technically my vote doesn’t count for anything.” He started his reasoning.

“But in doing so, I’m also proving a point with my vote. It’ll probably shake up the house for all the wrong reasons but… I guess that’s part of the reason why I’m doing it.” He laughed and threw his head back, running his fingers through his hair before picking up the card again.

“So, with that. I’ve decided to vote for…” He flipped the card around to show the camera.

“Y/N.”

The video ended as everyone around you gasped.

You fell still, heart pounding as you felt it sink deeper in your stomach. You shook your head with your tongue wedged between your teeth, biting down hard as you tried to stop the tears from falling from your water coated eyes. Your hands were shaking as you itched your neck, feeling a flush of embarrassment running through your body.

You refused to turn around, you couldn’t bear to see anyone, especially George, with you crying over the person you were the closest with to betray you.

Fuck, you had literally kissed yesterday. You literally fucking slept with him. And he wants you out; what happened to ‘if you leave, I leave’ bullshit? Was he always lying? Did this entire ‘relationship’ mean anything to him? Or did he just want to win and saw you as an easy route to the final?

“Y/N, I am so sorr--” George started. “Don’t.” Your voice trembled, holding back tears. You wanted to get out of this room right now, the feeling was suffocating you.

You looked over at the void where you previously sat, feeling sick that you had to sit next to him again. Shaking your head, you walked to the opposite end of the bench, nodding for Jason to move down and for you to sit on the end.

In silence, Jason obliged with a guilty face, feeling awful for you right now. You felt George’s eyes burn into the side of you face, lip tucked between his teeth with words and apologies threatening to spill; but since he’s fucked up so bad already, he owed you the right for space right now.

Sitting down, you rubbed your face with your hands, sighing heavily and clearing your throat to cover any emotion that was spilling over. PK’s hands brushed your shoulders and squeezed them in support, you placed your hand on top of his as a silent appreciation.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Ethan said softly, eyes casting over you sat with your head low. You shrugged your shoulders, “I don’t know.” You said, voice coming out a lot quieter than you intended, words trembling as your hands shook in the sleeves of your hoodie.

Tobi nodded at you, “Alright. We’ll move on.” He shared a glance with Ethan, “I’m gonna call PK back to the hot seat.”

“Which Insider has lied about their temptation?” He was asked. You knew it was George, he had told you. The reminder of his immunity felt like they were rubbing salt into the wound, the image of you refusing a moment of clarity for George and his safely in this show, and his willingness to vote you out; when was this fucking challenge going to end?

After locking in the answer of Jason, the clip of George rolled through. You didn’t look up at the screen, eyes glued to the floor as your lips trembled, eyes rolling back to stop tears blurring your vision.

Cinna watched you as the clip played, reaching her hand behind Jason and tapping your side. You looked up at the contact and felt Cinna’s hand nudge yours, you let her hand intertwine with yours, knowing you needed the comfort right now. A frown deepened on your face, the impending sickening feeling of George snaking you out replayed over and over in your head; kicking and torturing you for being so naive.

George raised his hand to defend his case, “I would like to say I did feel absolutely awful as soon as I went round the corner. I told Y/N. I told Cinna. I told Milli.” He glanced over at you, yet you didn’t look anywhere near his direction.

Jason turned to you, “You knew?” You swallowed and looked at him, “Yeah, but if I knew we were snaking each other out, I would have told you all.” You spat to try and deflect your sadness.

George let out a sigh, stomach swarming with guilt; he needed to talk to you immediately. “Y/N…” “No, it’s fine. Gotta do what you gotta do to win.” You shrugged your shoulders and stared ahead, the screen in front of you a mockery to what you wish you hadn’t seen.

Tobi sighed, “Wow. That was some spillage.” Ethan looked over at everyone, “I think the dynamic’s shifted a bit.”

Once you were given the signal to leave, you instantly hopped out your seat and strode towards the exit doors, waiting for no one. George watched you leave, lingering in his seat for a moment and sighing, looking over at where you once sat next to him with his hand on your thigh, smiling and tucking your head into his neck. 

Jason tapped George on the shoulder, “You gonna talk to her?” George nodded, “Eventually. Well, when she wants to see me.” 

Jason cringed, “You fucked up, brother.” George nodded and rubbed his face with his hands, “I know.” He mumbled. “I know.” He repeated in a whisper.

time skip!

“Hey, can we talk?” You heard George mumble from around the corner. You were sitting where you had kissed, once a happy memory, but now tainted with a feeling that none of it was real. 

You didn’t respond, so George took the liberty to sit down next to you with enough comfortable space between you two.

“I’m sorry.” He started.

“No, you’re not.” You whispered, voice thick with sadness.

George tilted his head with furrowed brows, “Y/N, I really am…” He sighed watching you shake your head with a humorous laugh, lip tucked between your teeth and tears brimming on your waterline.

“Why would you do that?” You mumbled. George looked down to the floor, “I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking.”

“What night was it?” You faced him, staring daggers into his solemn face. His head whipped up and his face was etched with confusion. “What?” “Which night did you vote for me?” You spoke with certainty.

George’s face paled, “Y/N, that’s not what I want--” “Tell me.” You left no room for digression.

You watched him swallow and eyes trail over you, as if this confession could lose you. As if he was never going to see you again, at least in this light. His chest rose up and down a lot quicker, his heart pounding against his chest.

“The first one.” He said with regret.

Your face fell as you reflected on that night. The one in which you were almost eliminated. If it wasn’t for your insane luck and Milli’s generosity, you would have not been in this house right now, and believing George missed you; but he was the biggest game player here.

“Oh, my fucking God…” You muttered, eyes trailing away from him. You heard him sigh, “Let me explain.” “Explain what?” You interrupted him, “George, I was basically eliminated! And you didn’t fucking care, you were part of the reason!” 

You remembered his face of regret when Vik said you received the lowest voices, thinking at the time, that he was upset at your departure; but no, he realised he was at fault and had to face the consequences of his impulse actions that had led you two to this exact moment.

You covered your face with your hands as it became too overwhelming, “What happened to the ‘You leave, I leave’ bullshit, George?”

He didn’t meet your eyes. All the excuses and apologies that he had planned and were on the tip of his tongue before entering this room had fallen off his lips, reduced to immense guilt as he felt you slipping away from his grasp.

“Did I mean anything to you, George? Or were you just playing the game?” George’s eyes snapped up to see tears streaming down your face.

“No! It was never that!” He started, hands waving around as his brows upturned. “Was I an easy route to the final?” You ignored him.

“No!” George shook his head, desperation seeping in his voice. “Someone to make you feel less lonely being here?” You laughed painfully, thinking back to all your shared moments and considering if any of it was real, let alone last.

George reached for your hand, “Y/N, please…” You flinched away from his touch, “Clearly not because you were happy to get me the fuck out of here!” You thought back to your last question, disregarding any point George tried to make, he understood he messed up, but he needed to feel what you felt.

George sighed and let your statement linger in the air, silence suffocating the room for a moment. “Y/N, you are so much more than this stupid game.” He said. You looked over at him and saw the rims of his eyes were red, cheeks pale and hair messy. Any other time, you would have wrapped him up in your arms and held him close, stroking his hair and kissing his face, whispering sweet nothings; because you knew that man, but you didn’t know the one sat in front of you right now.

You tilted your head and looked at him, “Then why did you pick it over me.” You whispered.

George couldn’t respond. He couldn’t deny you because he knew you were right. His heart plummeted into his stomach as you looked tired from crying, tears staining your cheeks and hands shaking as you brushed hair away from your face, an action he once had the privilege to do, but screwed it all up. He regretted it the moment he said your name in Room 19, the words fell off his tongue as if he was speaking a different language, it didn’t feel right. But he still did it, and he couldn’t take it back.

You couldn’t bear the silence or him anymore and made a move to leave the room. Standing up slowly, you heard George one more time, “I’m so sorry.”

You glanced at him, “I don’t care.” And you left the room, leaving your heart behind you and your rational head questioning if there was any point being in here now; the game had played you, and you didn’t know if you wanted to play it anymore.

bonus! (bc i'm so sorry for doing that to them)

@wherethezoes-at @sidemenslver @multifanxtvshows @bibissparkles @le-le-lea @tiamonetsworld @dopeysunflowers @viagracex @rebeccaw05-blog @sundarksposts @sabbrriiinnaa @lovingaphroditesworld @evisceratedmuke @youtubewag @happyclifford @liz140569 @addiemb8332 @isabellem2909 @madforgeorge @pookietv @georgeclarkeyscakeyass @marijas-stuff @maggie-readss @bambidollstar @lottiewills @lmaowhathaha @sukimoves @randomstufflol29 @isabelle-2934 @sophiexxclarkey @levidazai @smogballsstuff @loveheart-123 @alysbaby @octopusoptimusprime @mylillstuff @landoslvr @essieswurld @swaggerjagger2014 @isla-finke-blog @amyissocool @k0ul1ss @musicforsnoopy @bowielovesyou @fly-me-away @7leb-kakaw @je33123 @theresglittleronthefloor @geliophobias @w2sfever @grantgustluv @yourfavartistsfavartist12

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Sparks Fly

Pairing: Eventual Bartender!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Tony Stark x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~3.3k

Warnings: breakup angst, high tension

Summary: You and Tony reach an impasse in your relationship when you go looking for that passion that might be hidden deep down. His relationship makes you see that what you’re missing might not be with Tony but a certain someone else instead.

One in a Million Series

Square Filled: fighting together (2024) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

Confusion follows you as you walk into your apartment, confusion hangs over you as you wash off the gym stink, and confusion pats your back when you get dressed. Things with Tony haven’t been as passionate as you’d like, so there is a lot of tension building between you two. You don’t think he notices it, and if he does, he makes no move to talk about it. It’s been a good few months with Tony, but you don’t see it going anywhere.

Tony is supposed to help you get over Bucky, and you’re failing at everything. It’s like no matter what you do, you can’t seem to get him to be more interested in you. There’s no passion and you really wish there was more of it. Sure, Tony makes you feel good, but you want sparks to fly.

The boys and Natasha are in the kitchen when you finally walk in, and Bucky immediately notices the confusion etched onto your features. Knowing you’re with Tony has given him a lot to think about. Stuff about where he sees himself a year down the line or even five. He keeps picturing you by his side despite knowing you’re taken.

He really needs to get over this silly crush he has before he gets heartbroken. What if Tony is your one? What if you see being with him for the rest of your life? Bucky doesn’t know if he can spend the rest of his wishing he had made a move.

“You alright?” Bucky asks.

“Yeah, something weird happened to me while I was at the gym earlier.”

“Why don’t we order take out and watch a movie in my apartment. It’s much better than going out,” Natasha says to Steve before turning to you. “What happened?”

“I saw Pepper there. After walking about five miles, I walked into the sauna where she was. They have a section if people want to get naked, and she was in there.”

“Were you naked?” Sam asks.

Bucky smacks him on the side of the head for asking, and Sam laughs in amusement. Bucky doesn’t need to picture you naked in a sauna with other women. He doesn’t need to picture you naked, period. It’ll make getting over you harder.

“No. I couldn’t help but see how good she looked. I mean why would Tony give her up? She’s gorgeous.” Bucky opens his mouth to respond but decides against it. Again, he can’t get involved like that. Sam sees the torture on his face and smirks. “It got me thinking about them and how good they must have been, I must have panicked because I invited her to dinner with me and Tony tonight.”

“You did what?” Natasha asks.

“I know, I know,” you groan. “I just feel like she’s always there behind me. I was over at Tony’s house the other day, and we were… making out a bit. I saw a picture of Pepper on his bookshelf behind him and thought, she is always going to be right there no matter what.”

Bucky closes his eyes and grips his coffee mug tighter. Sam nudges Steve and barely gestures to Bucky so he doesn’t alert you that they’re having this silent conversation. Steve sees the pain expression and smirks, finally getting on the same page as Sam.

“So, you were making out, huh? Is he a good kisser?”

Bucky growls lowly knowing what his friends are doing.

“Did he use a lot of tongue?” Sam chuckles.

“I’m gonna kill you,” Bucky mutters while taking a sip of coffee.

“I’m not gonna answer that,” you chuckle nervously. “The point is, she’s this overwhelming presence. I feel like we can work through it if we sat down and had a conversation about it.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Natasha says. “If you like Tony that much, then you need to make it clear to Pepper that you’re not going anywhere and she needs to back off.” She pauses. “You do like him, right?”

You barely look at Bucky who refuses to look at you. He can’t even look at you. Natasha is usually right about these things, but she’s not right about this. Bucky doesn’t like you.

“Yeah, of course, I do. It’s gonna be fine. I’m gonna go get ready.”

The date isn’t for another five hours, but you figure you can stall time by doing your makeup and hair carefully. Tony picked you up thirty minutes early so Pepper isn’t there when you get there. He wasn’t too thrilled to know his ex-wife was going to be joining you two, but this has to happen if you want to move on.

“I appreciate what you’re doing for me here,” you say

“Hey, it’s no problem as long as they keep the alcohol coming.”

“Come on, is Pepper really that bad?”

“There’s a reason why she’s my ex-wife.”

He says that in a way that makes you not want to ask questions. This is why you need this dinner to happen. They need to work out some unresolved issues so that you and Tony can move on together.

“Hey, sorry I’m late!” Pepper walks to the table looking gorgeous as ever. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and she’s wearing a beautiful white dress that stops at her knees. She looks so elegant. “Traffic was a bitch.”

“Oh, it’s no problem. We were early,” you chuckle.

Pepper and Tony make eye contact and it’s like the tension rises a good few inches.

“Hello.”

“Hi,” she says curtly. She grabs a menu and looks over the appetizers at this authentic Mexican restaurant. “Oh, how are the quesadillas?” She says the word ‘quesadillas’ with a lisp so that every ‘s’ is pronounced as ‘th’. Tony immediately rolls his eyes, which she notices. “There goes the eye roll.”

“I didn’t actually roll my eyes.”

“I don’t miss that.”

“No, I actually needed to quickly look at the ceiling.”

You’re scared if you don’t say something now, then they’ll start chewing each other’s heads off.

“Pepper?” She tears her glare from Tony to look at you, and her eyes soften. “I love that dress. It looks good on you.”

“Thank you,” she smiles. “Or should I say, gracias.”

Again, she pronounces the ‘s’ as a ‘th’.

“That’s an interesting way to pronounce that word.”

“Wait till you hear why she does,” Tony mutters.

“I spent a month in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico with the locals. They taught me authentic Spanish.”

“Oh, okay. That’s cool,” you nod, a bit uneasy. You grab some of the tortilla chips they set out and munch on one. “Man, these are delicious.”

The waitress comes over and takes your orders before walking off with the menus. The song ‘Cielito Lindo’ starts playing over the speakers softly, and Pepper has a much different reaction than Tony.

“I love this song,” she grins.

“I hate this song,” Tony grumbles. You and Tony look at each other, and he sighs knowing he’ll have to explain why he hates it. “We were on vacation in Mexico on this eight-hour road trip. Pepper wouldn’t stop humming this goddamn song the entire time.”

“Well, it wouldn’t have been eight hours if someone hadn’t gotten lost. At some point, we were following donkeys.”

The waitress comes back with the food, and you try to be excited about it in hopes it’ll stop this conversation.

“Look, food! I love food!”

“They were not donkeys!” Tony raises his voice slightly.

Pepper starts cutting into her food. “It wasn’t a road.”

That riles Tony up in a way you hadn’t seen before. He stands and leans over the table to assert his dominance over Pepper.

“For the millionth time, just because a map doesn’t show it’s a road, doesn’t mean it’s not a road!”

“Inside voices, please,” you say, but they ignore you.

“You know what’s not a road?” She stands and gets in his face. “When there are guys in tanks telling you to turn around!”

“Oh, come on!” Tony raises his voice some more. There are people looking, and you shrink in your seat in embarrassment. “Those were two kids in a jeep!”

“Our car gets stuck in the mud, but you can’t move it because God forbid, you break a nail.”

“Here we go,” Tony mutters. “I got one manicure! One time! I’m not doing this with you!”

“I’m not doing this with you!” she yells back. At this point, they’re screaming at each other. “I don’t have to take this. I’m leaving.”

“Oh, don’t you want to wait for your quesadilla?”

Tony mocks the way she says it, and she growls in anger. They both stare at each other while you’re watching with wide eyes. You can cut the sexual tension with a knife. Suddenly, you don’t want to be here. Pepper leaves with the excuse that Morgan needs her, but the date is ruined for you and Tony. He tries to fix it with small talk but the heat is still in the air.

Natasha and Steve came to a compromise and got takeout at your apartment. She slept over, which is a good thing because you really need your best friend right now.

“You should have been there, Nat. There was serious heat between them. It was so awkward for me. After she left, it was like Tony and I couldn’t look at each other. They had… have passion. I want that with someone, and I don’t think that it’s with him. I guess I got kind of jealous. He doesn’t… God, I shouldn’t be telling you this, but he doesn’t kiss me often. It’s like he wants a relationship without being physical.”

“Have you had sex with him?”

“Yeah. Only two or three times.”

“You’ve been dating him for over four months.” You shrug. “Girl, you need to get out of that relationship.”

“I can’t.” You drop your voice to a whisper. “I have to make it work for him. You don’t understand. Maybe I should take a page out of Pepper’s book. Maybe then he’ll have some of that passion with me.”

“Does she still have feelings for him?”

“Maybe. I have to talk to her to find out.”

“No, that’s a bad idea. Just give it some time and let it mull over.”

“If she does and I do nothing about it, all I’m doing is setting myself up for heartbreak. I gotta go.”

“Call me if you need me. I’ll kick her ass if I need to.”

You laugh. “I know. I’ll call you later.” You walk to the door and look at her with a smirk. “Oh, and tell Steve to go easy on your neck. It looks like he was chomping on you.”

“Shit. Steve! I told you not to leave any marks,” she yells and goes after him.

You don’t know much about Pepper but you do know the gym she works out at. You go there in hopes you might find her lingering. After last night, she might be here working out the tension. Luck is on your side because you find her using one of the weight machines that you pull down.

“Hey, fancy meeting you here,” you chuckle. She smiles when she sees you and gestures for you to sit at the machine next to hers. There’s no easy way to say this so you’re just going to come out and say it. “So, you and Tony, huh?”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” she sighs and continues to pump her arms, “if we made you feel uncomfortable. It’s just that we can’t be in the same room as each other without ripping each other’s faces off.”

“For sure,” you nod slowly. “As long as it’s only faces and not like… clothes.”

Pepper gasps and looks at you, pausing her workout. “You don’t think…”

“No, no,” you say quickly.

“Good because there is no chance in hell. He is all yours.” You’re about to get up when she continues talking. “I mean, you know what it’s like with Tony, right?”

You pause, uncertain how to answer that. Yes, you’ve had sex with him, but what if your experience with him is different than hers? What if it was raw and passionate with her but tame and mild with you?

“It’s like a rollercoaster,” she continues. “It’s like standing on the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean during a storm, and the spray of water hits your face like a mist.” She sighs passionately. “You’re naked and you’re on fire. You know?”

Okay, that’s not how it’s like at all. Still, you’re not going to tell her that. “Yeah. I do. I’m like, ‘Tony, put away the passion.’”

“Exactly,” she grunts as she starts her workout again.

Yeah, you really need to get out of this relationship. Maybe if you can get Tony to be more passionate, you might have a reason to stay. Tony is doing some work but he doesn’t turn you away when you show up to his house uninvited. You want to talk to him, you want to bring this up, but you’re not sure how to. He flips through papers while you’re staring at his side profile.

“Hey, Tony?” you ask before you can talk yourself out of it. He hums in acknowledgment. “Do I ever drive you crazy?”

“No, of course not.”

“Come on, there must be something that I do that gets under your skin.”

Tony lowers his papers and looks at you. “No, I can’t think of anything.” You sigh and look away from him in annoyance. Mostly at yourself for not giving into the passion he must have locked inside of him. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything is fine. I just want that… that fire.” You sit up and quickly kiss him. “Just… you know what I’m talking about.”

This time, your kiss catches him off guard and he rears back like he’s in pain.

“Ow, I think you bit my lip. What are you doing?”

“Come on, Tony, don’t you want to tap into that raw, sexual passion I know you have?”

You push at him until he is forced to lean back, and you straddle his waist. The papers on his lap flutter to the floor, and he looks upset that all the papers are now out of order.

“I don’t have--”

“Yes, you do. I’ve seen it. Come on, Tony. Just give in.” You sound like a fucking predator, but what else are you going to do? How else will you get what you want? You bunch the front of his shirt in your fists and kiss him again, but he doesn’t kiss you back. “Stop, what are you doing?”

“Tony…”

“No, stop.” He pushes you away and looks at you like you have three heads. “What are you doing?”

This is pointless. He’s not going to give you what you want. Before you make an even bigger fool of yourself, you slide off his lap with a sigh.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… something is missing. I didn’t know something was missing until I saw you and Pepper at dinner last night. You two wanted to strangle each other, and I want that! I want what you and Pepper have.”

“You want me to treat you like I treat my ex-wife?” He pauses. “Who I hate?”

“No,” you sigh and stand up. This isn’t coming out like you’d hope it would. “You two have this spark, this passion. I want that. You can’t deny that you have it. I saw it last night.”

“Passion is overrated, Y/N.”

This relationship has reached its end. You’re not going to get what you want with him.

“I want to go home. I walked here, so can you take me home, please?”

“Y/N…”

“Please?”

Tony sighs but nods. The car ride is silent because you have nothing left to say. You’re going to leave this car knowing you and Tony are over. He pulls up to your building but neither of you get out.

“I really like you, Y/N, and I like what we have. I thought you did, too.”

“I do. I did. I just…”

“Look, I’ve already done the crazy, explosive passion thing with Pepper. It was like constantly living on the edge of the cliff. I’m not looking for that anymore.”

You nod and pick at a piece of lint on your dress. “I understand, but I am. I want that passion even if it’s harder and hurts more.”

“So, this is it, huh?”

“Yeah. Goodbye, Tony.”

He leans in and kisses your cheek, and you leave before he can see you crying. You take your time going back to the apartment, just drained from the day’s events. You open the front door and almost trip on Bucky’s motorcycle helmet.

“Goddamn it, Bucky,” you growl and kick it off to the side. His bedroom door opens and you turn to give him a piece of your mind when you freeze. Sharon walks out of his room wearing nothing but one of Bucky’s shirts. “Sharon…”

“Do I know you?”

“No. Sorry. I’m Y/N, Bucky’s roommate. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh, Y/N. I have heard about you. He talks about you a lot. Excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom.”

She leaves just as Bucky walks out of his room. Out of all the ways he pictured this happening, he never thought he’d see you so heartbroken. It makes him feel like an asshole considering he didn’t do anything wrong. He needed to get over you because you’re with Tony, so he called the one person that might have said yes to coming over.

“I didn’t know you’d be back tonight.”

“Sharon?” you ask. “Did I hear the stories right? She broke your heart, Bucky. You had a terrible relationship!”

Bucky is about to answer when Sharon comes back.

“Excuse me, Sharon, I’m just going to talk to Y/N for a second. I’ll only be a minute.” She nods and waves to you as he closes the bedroom door. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“My problem? You’re making terrible life choices, Bucky!”

You walk away from him, but he follows you because he is not done with this conversation.

“Oh, you think you know everything, don’t you? I’m actually so sick of you,” he growls.

“I don’t know everything. I’m just disappointed in you!”

“Maybe I should be more like you, Y/N, and run into the kitchen and make pastries with sprinkles on them.”

“I don’t always do that,” you glare.

“Then maybe I’ll put on a dumb pajama outfit and tell others how to live their life!”

“It’s not a pajamas outfit!” you yell. “It’s just called pajamas!”

“That’s what I said!” he yells back.

Anger bubbles under your skin as tension grows thick between you. “Why don’t you go back inside your room and put on that dumb Henley and keep not living up to your potential!”

Bucky steps closer to you. “You’re a crazy person, Y/N!”

“No, I’m just saying things you don’t want to hear!”

“You know what I’d like to hear from you?”

“What?” you shout.

“Silence!” he yells.

“I’m not gonna be silent!” you scream at him. “I’m trying to help you, Bucky!”

Bucky grabs your shoulders. “For once in your life, just shut the fuck up! Please! I don’t want your help!”

His cheeks are pink from anger but his eyes are full of fire. The blue in his eyes is swirling with anger.

“Stop making that face. I hate your face,” you growl, briefly glancing down at his lips.

“What are you talking about? I only have one face! If you don’t like looking at my face, Y/N, then look at my ass because I’m done with this conversation. Goodnight!”

Bucky turns and walks away from you.

“Don’t walk away from me!”

“If you don’t shut up, I’m gonna kill you,” he growls.

He slams the door when he enters his room, and you storm over to your room. The last thing he hears is your door slamming, and he sighs knowing he might have fucked up his relationship with you.

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[marisandini-chu-blog]

You know what would be horribly fascinating?

If X (the Title, not the Hero) was meant to be removed from the narrative.

Hear me out! More often than not in an action based story, we usually have the person on top of the power scale be sidelined in the narrative in order to give more tension in the battles that doesn't require a deus ex machina to solve all the problem.

It comes in many forms; such as gags where the hero just always arrives in the last second, it comes with political intrigue where bureucracy becomes the red tape that keeps them being involve with the main source of problem, or most commonly you kill them off to establish a new power dynamic.

Which is why I have this mess up idea of "What if Bliblibli hosted the popularity contest of the Top 10 heroes, so the fans unknowingly votes for the person to be doomed by the narrative."

I know it's a wild idea, but it would feel so diabolical if after hammering an entire series worth of psychological horror of the people's belief, we still get to feel surprise by the metatextual consequences

Just a food for thought

[collapsedsquid]

On Thursday evening, Trump signed an order directing Attorney General Pam Bondi to investigate ActBlue, a remarkable attack on the infrastructure of the Democratic Party and part of a series of nearly daily acts of persecution by the administration against political opponents. Trump’s memorandum claims congressional investigators “revealed significant fraud schemes” involving foreign campaign contributions, which are illegal under U.S. law. ActBlue has denied such allegations.

Not a good sign

[tremendouskoalachild]

happy pride month to queer high republic authors!!

Cavan Scott (he/him/they/them) - author of The Rising Storm, Path of Vengeance, The High Republic comic, The Monster of Temple Peak, Saber for Hire, Tempest Runner

Justina Ireland (she/they) - author of A Test of Courage, Out of the Shadows, Mission to Disaster, co-author of The Edge of Balance Vol. 1, Path of Deceit and Defy the Storm

Tessa Gratton (she/he/they) - author of Quest for Planet X, Temptation of the Force, co-author of Path of Deceit and Defy the Storm

Alyssa Wong (they/them) - co-author of Escape from Valo, author of short story Rogue Element

Vita Ayala (they/them) - co-author of Galactic Bake-Off Spectacular

[flabbergastedpigeon]

~The Dream~

Excited to finally share this after many months :)

done with a couple microns and lots of love

[ty-bayonet-betteridge]

i just HAD to say "worm life series au" and now my brain is spinning

this is gonna distract me from current ongoing fics i just KNOW IT

[secriden]

Dear THK viewers who understand Thai:

I was wondering if anyone has/would be willing to translate the bits we can see of the page that was attached to the pictures of Fadel and Bison's parents? Does it give us any added insight?

[randomnameless]

tbh, I stopped caring about houses that much when I found out that it's an otome/dating sim game with srpg gameplay sprinkled on top. In other FE games, you either gather supports by pair ups or by having units standing against one another. And mechanics like cooking in Fates were done to get some more stat boosts. And even if the avatarization of the game started with New Mystery, Robin and Corrin feel more like customizable characters than an avatar for the player.

In houses, Byleth is like every typical dating sim protag, that does not speak and the few times they do is by having the player choose options that may raise heart points with a character or lower them, you have to find lost items and when you give them back you gain heart points, you have to give them gifts to gain heart points and cooking now doesn't give you any beneficts in battle and only works for, you've guessed it, getting heart points. And let's not kid ourselves, tea time is like the "dates" in otome games, in which you can spam gifts till you raise the affection to the max. The only thing that distincts those points from the otome ones, is that those are necessary for proficency and for unit classes.

Heck, we even have a ring to give to the chosen blorbo in order to get a special custom made cutscene, when in pasts games getting an S support gave you a broken unit to deploy and a little blurb of text during the credits. And of course, calendar/day systems are also common in these tipes of games too.

People complained about awakening and fates for turning the franchise into a dating sim, but 3Houses is literally one in and of itself, and yet is praised as peack FE experience and as peack srpg.

(I could also argue that is because of this otome nature why the characters are "tell don't show" with their given trauma, unlike in pasts games when it was "show don't tell" (Nino, Reison, Camilla, Leif, Soren...))

Well,

When you put it like that, it becomes obvious that the other games (FEH, Engage) mentionning Fodlan are stuck on the uwu monastery part of the part 1 and not the, y'know, events happening that will lead to part 2 because as you said, the SRPG aspect is just "sprinkled on top" lol

However, the "pair up your units and build their relationships!" has been a non gameplay mechanics for decades now (FE4's was a gameplay mechanic, it had no support convos - FE6 added the support convos and gave a small gameplay boost but it didn't commit and we had no endings, FE7/8 had endings, FE9 had convos but FE10 removed them and yet had endings depending on the pairs, etc etc) even without avatars.

Then we entered the avatar era and if it added the "my waifu and my bae" shenanigans, FE13/14 were still more centered on the story aspect that on the "dating sim" aspect, as in, even if you could raise affinity with a character by doing X or Y, it wasn't really coded in a minigame - came FE16 which you analysed perfectly : tea time, gifts, eating, S-support CG, etc etc.

That being said, FE is a RPG, meaning it has characters : you play FE for the solid gameplay but you also build characters, and imo the best way to develop and write characters is to interconnect them with other characters, and/or with the plot/lore.

Sure, Arden functions as a wall/tank. But through the 5 lines he has, you learn that he is part of a group of knights, has friends who often tease him but is relied upon by those people and takes pride in that, he'd also like to find a wife someday and has self-esteem issues.

Is he as developped as, say, Xillia's Alvin? Hell no! But they're characters from two different genres, Arden has those 5 lines that puts him above any "generic" armor.

(I find it interesting how UO and in a way, FE11, gives you the opportunity to play with generics instead of playing with named characters, in UO generics will turn out to be better since you can change their growths, but they're generics. Do you want the RPG of the Tactics/Strategy aspect?)

So, I'd say that support conversations are important, I love Saias and Ralf to bits, but I'm sure I'd love them more if they had more lines. And since support through battle can be a chore (hello FE GBA and trying to get Bartre and Karla's supports when she joins 2 chapters before the end!), I initially welcome any way to grind those supports faster lol.

However, it can quickly spiral in, well, the otome mechanics we have in FE16 - if you want to build support then why not have an entire mini-game for that, and meals and chorals and whatever else?

It's all about finding balance between developping your characters without turning your game in a dating sim or what I'd call "playing the sims and pairing those dolls with those other dolls you like".

Still, let's not kid ourselves, nowadays the "dating sim" aspect of the series is, while decried by some, very popular - and FE is first and foremost, a series that has to sell.

3H is not peak SRPG not peak gaming experience or even in FE gameplay that'd be FE5 but I can't ignore the fact that its dating sim aspects might be part of the reason why it's still very popular.

[bluevelvt]

when people think anakin wouldnt have turned to the dark side if qui-gon trained him im just ?????

YOU THINK THAT WOULD HAVE STOPPED PALPATINE???

i mean qui-gon took anakin to be trained cause he thinks anakin is the chosen one or this is at least a major reason why and like??? PALPATINE WOULD HAVE JUST PIVOTED LIKE

"it's such a shame my boy that the council and even your master only see you as the chosen one and not your own person"

"i hope that they trust you as a jedi and not just part of a prophecy"

"i fear that qui gon only wants you as the chosen one and if you weren't, you would never have left tatooine"

LIKE PALPATINE WOULD HAVE DONE THAT! HE ENGINEERED A WHOLE WAR JUST TO TAKE POWER AND QUI-GON BECOMING ANAKIN'S MASTER WOULD HAVE DESTROYED PALPATINE'S PLANS???

idk just gets on my nerves and feels like a slight against obi-wan who yeah wasn't perfect and the circumstances for becoming anakin's master weren't ideal but i think he was a great master and this idea also makes palpatine seem far less manipulative, cunning, and evil

the man once said he would gladly make vader again given the chance, even knowing how it would eventually end, so he's not stopping just because anakin has a different master

[pabsterrr]

made these alignment charts a while ago on a whim now im posting them to open three cans of worms that are three fandoms ive never interacted with on tumblr before. its an Experiment

whatever. go my sherlocks

[dottores]

crying hysterically i have such a good fic idea for post-cataclysm teyvat but i just dont have enough time for another series rn

[calypsolemon]

consistently torn between "nanami and saionji should just never speak to touga again" and "touga finally recognizing he wants genuine connections and putting in the effort to fix what he's broken and the three of them reaching some sort of catharsis with each other Despite It All"

[6ebe]

does anybody remember when I accurately predicted how game of thrones tv show would end bc I had a basic understanding of how the Tudor dynasty ended. lol.

[fagatakonin]

I don't think i will rest and watch literally anything else until i've watched every single thing on grian's channel

[victusinveritas]

Story below the cut to avoid a paywall.

There was no explanation, no warning. One minute, I was in an immigration office talking to an officer about my work visa, which had been approved months before and allowed me, a Canadian, to work in the US. The next, I was told to put my hands against the wall, and patted down like a criminal before being sent to an Ice detention center without the chance to talk to a lawyer.

I grew up in Whitehorse, Yukon, a small town in the northernmost part of Canada. I always knew I wanted to do something bigger with my life. I left home early and moved to Vancouver, British Columbia, where I built a career spanning multiple industries – acting in film and television, owning bars and restaurants, flipping condos and managing Airbnbs.

In my 30s, I found my true passion working in the health and wellness industry. I was given the opportunity to help launch an American brand of health tonics called Holy! Water – a job that would involve moving to the US.

I was granted my trade Nafta work visa, which allows Canadian and Mexican citizens to work in the US in specific professional occupations, on my second attempt. It goes without saying, then, that I have no criminal record. I also love the US and consider myself to be a kind, hard-working person.

I started working in California and travelled back and forth between Canada and the US multiple times without any complications – until one day, upon returning to the US, a border officer questioned me about my initial visa denial and subsequent visa approval. He asked why I had gone to the San Diego border the second time to apply. I explained that that was where my lawyer’s offices were, and that he had wanted to accompany me to ensure there were no issues.

After a long interrogation, the officer told me it seemed “shady” and that my visa hadn’t been properly processed. He claimed I also couldn’t work for a company in the US that made use of hemp – one of the beverage ingredients. He revoked my visa, and told me I could still work for the company from Canada, but if I wanted to return to the US, I would need to reapply.

I was devastated; I had just started building a life in California. I stayed in Canada for the next few months, and was eventually offered a similar position with a different health and wellness brand.

I restarted the visa process and returned to the same immigration office at the San Diego border, since they had processed my visa before and I was familiar with it. Hours passed, with many confused opinions about my case. The officer I spoke to was kind but told me that, due to my previous issues, I needed to apply for my visa through the consulate. I told her I hadn’t been aware I needed to apply that way, but had no problem doing it.

Then she said something strange: “You didn’t do anything wrong. You are not in trouble, you are not a criminal.”

I remember thinking: Why would she say that? Of course I’m not a criminal!

She then told me they had to send me back to Canada. That didn’t concern me; I assumed I would simply book a flight home. But as I sat searching for flights, a man approached me.

“Come with me,” he said.

There was no explanation, no warning. He led me to a room, took my belongings from my hands and ordered me to put my hands against the wall. A woman immediately began patting me down. The commands came rapid-fire, one after another, too fast to process.

They took my shoes and pulled out my shoelaces.

“What are you doing? What is happening?” I asked.

“You are being detained.”

“I don’t understand. What does that mean? For how long?”

“I don’t know.”

That would be the response to nearly every question I would ask over the next two weeks: “I don’t know.”

They brought me downstairs for a series of interviews and medical questions, searched my bags and told me I had to get rid of half my belongings because I couldn’t take everything with me.

“Take everything with me where?” I asked.

A woman asked me for the name of someone they could contact on my behalf. In moments like this, you realize you don’t actually know anyone’s phone number anymore. By some miracle, I had recently memorized my best friend Britt’s number because I had been putting my grocery points on her account.

I gave them her phone number.

They handed me a mat and a folded-up sheet of aluminum foil.

“What is this?”

“Your blanket.”

“I don’t understand.”

I was taken to a tiny, freezing cement cell with bright fluorescent lights and a toilet. There were five other women lying on their mats with the aluminum sheets wrapped over them, looking like dead bodies. The guard locked the door behind me.

For two days, we remained in that cell, only leaving briefly for food. The lights never turned off, we never knew what time it was and no one answered our questions. No one in the cell spoke English, so I either tried to sleep or meditate to keep from having a breakdown. I didn’t trust the food, so I fasted, assuming I wouldn’t be there long.

On the third day, I was finally allowed to make a phone call. I called Britt and told her that I didn’t understand what was happening, that no one would tell me when I was going home, and that she was my only contact.

They gave me a stack of paperwork to sign and told me I was being given a five-year ban unless I applied for re-entry through the consulate. The officer also said it didn’t matter whether I signed the papers or not; it was happening regardless.

I was so delirious that I just signed. I told them I would pay for my flight home and asked when I could leave.

No answer.

Then they moved me to another cell – this time with no mat or blanket. I sat on the freezing cement floor for hours. That’s when I realized they were processing me into real jail: the Otay Mesa Detention Center.

I was told to shower, given a jail uniform, fingerprinted and interviewed. I begged for information.

“How long will I be here?”

“I don’t know your case,” the man said. “Could be days. Could be weeks. But I’m telling you right now – you need to mentally prepare yourself for months.”

Months.

I felt like I was going to throw up.

I was taken to the nurse’s office for a medical check. She asked what had happened to me. She had never seen a Canadian there before. When I told her my story, she grabbed my hand and said: “Do you believe in God?”

I told her I had only recently found God, but that I now believed in God more than anything.

“I believe God brought you here for a reason,” she said. “I know it feels like your life is in a million pieces, but you will be OK. Through this, I think you are going to find a way to help others.”

At the time, I didn’t know what that meant. She asked if she could pray for me. I held her hands and wept.

I felt like I had been sent an angel.

I was then placed in a real jail unit: two levels of cells surrounding a common area, just like in the movies. I was put in a tiny cell alone with a bunk bed and a toilet.

The best part: there were blankets. After three days without one, I wrapped myself in mine and finally felt some comfort.

For the first day, I didn’t leave my cell. I continued fasting, terrified that the food might make me sick. The only available water came from the tap attached to the toilet in our cells or a sink in the common area, neither of which felt safe to drink.

Eventually, I forced myself to step out, meet the guards and learn the rules. One of them told me: “No fighting.”

“I’m a lover, not a fighter,” I joked. He laughed.

I asked if there had ever been a fight here.

“In this unit? No,” he said. “No one in this unit has a criminal record.”

That’s when I started meeting the other women.

That’s when I started hearing their stories.

And that’s when I made a decision: I would never allow myself to feel sorry for my situation again. No matter how hard this was, I had to be grateful. Because every woman I met was in an even more difficult position than mine.

There were around 140 of us in our unit. Many women had lived and worked in the US legally for years but had overstayed their visas – often after reapplying and being denied. They had all been detained without warning.

If someone is a criminal, I agree they should be taken off the streets. But not one of these women had a criminal record. These women acknowledged that they shouldn’t have overstayed and took responsibility for their actions. But their frustration wasn’t about being held accountable; it was about the endless, bureaucratic limbo they had been trapped in.

The real issue was how long it took to get out of the system, with no clear answers, no timeline and no way to move forward. Once deported, many have no choice but to abandon everything they own because the cost of shipping their belongings back is too high.

I met a woman who had been on a road trip with her husband. She said they had 10-year work visas. While driving near the San Diego border, they mistakenly got into a lane leading to Mexico. They stopped and told the agent they didn’t have their passports on them, expecting to be redirected. Instead, they were detained. They are both pastors.

I met a family of three who had been living in the US for 11 years with work authorizations. They paid taxes and were waiting for their green cards. Every year, the mother had to undergo a background check, but this time, she was told to bring her whole family. When they arrived, they were taken into custody and told their status would now be processed from within the detention center.

Another woman from Canada had been living in the US with her husband who was detained after a traffic stop. She admitted she had overstayed her visa and accepted that she would be deported. But she had been stuck in the system for almost six weeks because she hadn’t had her passport. Who runs casual errands with their passport?

One woman had a 10-year visa. When it expired, she moved back to her home country, Venezuela. She admitted she had overstayed by one month before leaving. Later, she returned for a vacation and entered the US without issue. But when she took a domestic flight from Miami to Los Angeles, she was picked up by Ice and detained. She couldn’t be deported because Venezuela wasn’t accepting deportees. She didn’t know when she was getting out.

There was a girl from India who had overstayed her student visa for three days before heading back home. She then came back to the US on a new, valid visa to finish her master’s degree and was handed over to Ice due to the three days she had overstayed on her previous visa.

There were women who had been picked up off the street, from outside their workplaces, from their homes. All of these women told me that they had been detained for time spans ranging from a few weeks to 10 months. One woman’s daughter was outside the detention center protesting for her release.

That night, the pastor invited me to a service she was holding. A girl who spoke English translated for me as the women took turns sharing their prayers – prayers for their sick parents, for the children they hadn’t seen in weeks, for the loved ones they had been torn away from.

Then, unexpectedly, they asked if they could pray for me. I was new here, and they wanted to welcome me. They formed a circle around me, took my hands and prayed. I had never felt so much love, energy and compassion from a group of strangers in my life. Everyone was crying.

At 3am the next day, I was woken up in my cell.

“Pack your bag. You’re leaving.”

I jolted upright. “I get to go home?”

The officer shrugged. “I don’t know where you’re going.”

Of course. No one ever knew anything.

I grabbed my things and went downstairs, where 10 other women stood in silence, tears streaming down their faces. But these weren’t happy tears. That was the moment I learned the term “transferred”.

For many of these women, detention centers had become a twisted version of home. They had formed bonds, established routines and found slivers of comfort in the friendships they had built. Now, without warning, they were being torn apart and sent somewhere new. Watching them say goodbye, clinging to each other, was gut-wrenching.

I had no idea what was waiting for me next. In hindsight, that was probably for the best.

Our next stop was Arizona, the San Luis Regional Detention Center. The transfer process lasted 24 hours, a sleepless, grueling ordeal. This time, men were transported with us. Roughly 50 of us were crammed into a prison bus for the next five hours, packed together – women in the front, men in the back. We were bound in chains that wrapped tightly around our waists, with our cuffed hands secured to our bodies and shackles restraining our feet, forcing every movement into a slow, clinking struggle.

When we arrived at our next destination, we were forced to go through the entire intake process all over again, with medical exams, fingerprinting – and pregnancy tests; they lined us up in a filthy cell, squatting over a communal toilet, holding Dixie cups of urine while the nurse dropped pregnancy tests in each of our cups. It was disgusting.

We sat in freezing-cold jail cells for hours, waiting for everyone to be processed. Across the room, one of the women suddenly spotted her husband. They had both been detained and were now seeing each other for the first time in weeks.

The look on her face – pure love, relief and longing – was something I’ll never forget.

We were beyond exhausted. I felt like I was hallucinating.

The guard tossed us each a blanket: “Find a bed.”

There were no pillows. The room was ice cold, and one blanket wasn’t enough. Around me, women lay curled into themselves, heads covered, looking like a room full of corpses. This place made the last jail feel like the Four Seasons.

I kept telling myself: Do not let this break you.

Thirty of us shared one room. We were given one Styrofoam cup for water and one plastic spoon that we had to reuse for every meal. I eventually had to start trying to eat and, sure enough, I got sick. None of the uniforms fit, and everyone had men’s shoes on. The towels they gave us to shower were hand towels. They wouldn’t give us more blankets. The fluorescent lights shined on us 24/7.

Everything felt like it was meant to break you. Nothing was explained to us. I wasn’t given a phone call. We were locked in a room, no daylight, with no idea when we would get out.

I tried to stay calm as every fiber of my being raged towards panic mode. I didn’t know how I would tell Britt where I was. Then, as if sent from God, one of the women showed me a tablet attached to the wall where I could send emails. I only remembered my CEO’s email from memory. I typed out a message, praying he would see it.

He responded.

Through him, I was able to connect with Britt. She told me that they were working around the clock trying to get me out. But no one had any answers; the system made it next to impossible. I told her about the conditions in this new place, and that was when we decided to go to the media.

She started working with a reporter and asked whether I would be able to call her so she could loop him in. The international phone account that Britt had previously tried to set up for me wasn’t working, so one of the other women offered to let me use her phone account to make the call.

We were all in this together.

With nothing to do in my cell but talk, I made new friends – women who had risked everything for the chance at a better life for themselves and their families.

Through them, I learned the harsh reality of seeking asylum. Showing me their physical scars, they explained how they had paid smugglers anywhere from $20,000 to $60,000 to reach the US border, enduring brutal jungles and horrendous conditions.

One woman had been offered asylum in Mexico within two weeks but had been encouraged to keep going to the US. Now, she was stuck, living in a nightmare, separated from her young children for months. She sobbed, telling me how she felt like the worst mother in the world.

Many of these women were highly educated and spoke multiple languages. Yet, they had been advised to pretend they didn’t speak English because it would supposedly increase their chances of asylum.

Some believed they were being used as examples, as warnings to others not to try to come.

Women were starting to panic in this new facility, and knowing I was most likely the first person to get out, they wrote letters and messages for me to send to their families.

It felt like we had all been kidnapped, thrown into some sort of sick psychological experiment meant to strip us of every ounce of strength and dignity.

We were from different countries, spoke different languages and practiced different religions. Yet, in this place, none of that mattered. Everyone took care of each other. Everyone shared food. Everyone held each other when someone broke down. Everyone fought to keep each other’s hope alive.

I got a message from Britt. My story had started to blow up in the media.

Almost immediately after, I was told I was being released.

My Ice agent, who had never spoken to me, told my lawyer I could have left sooner if I had signed a withdrawal form, and that they hadn’t known I would pay for my own flight home.

From the moment I arrived, I begged every officer I saw to let me pay for my own ticket home. Not a single one of them ever spoke to me about my case.

To put things into perspective: I had a Canadian passport, lawyers, resources, media attention, friends, family and even politicians advocating for me. Yet, I was still detained for nearly two weeks.

Imagine what this system is like for every other person in there.

A small group of us were transferred back to San Diego at 2am – one last road trip, once again shackled in chains. I was then taken to the airport, where two officers were waiting for me. The media was there, so the officers snuck me in through a side door, trying to avoid anyone seeing me in restraints. I was beyond grateful that, at the very least, I didn’t have to walk through the airport in chains.

To my surprise, the officers escorting me were incredibly kind, and even funny. It was the first time I had laughed in weeks.

I asked if I could put my shoelaces back on.

“Yes,” one of them said with a grin. “But you better not run.”

“Yeah,” the other added. “Or we’ll have to tackle you in the airport. That’ll really make the headlines.”

I laughed, then told them I had spent a lot of time observing the guards during my detention and I couldn’t believe how often I saw humans treating other humans with such disregard. “But don’t worry,” I joked. “You two get five stars.”

When I finally landed in Canada, my mom and two best friends were waiting for me. So was the media. I spoke to them briefly, numb and delusional from exhaustion.

It was surreal listening to my friends recount everything they had done to get me out: working with lawyers, reaching out to the media, making endless calls to detention centers, desperately trying to get through to Ice or anyone who could help. They said the entire system felt rigged, designed to make it nearly impossible for anyone to get out.

The reality became clear: Ice detention isn’t just a bureaucratic nightmare. It’s a business. These facilities are privately owned and run for profit.

Companies like CoreCivic and GEO Group receive government funding based on the number of people they detain, which is why they lobby for stricter immigration policies. It’s a lucrative business: CoreCivic made over $560m from Ice contracts in a single year. In 2024, GEO Group made more than $763m from Ice contracts.

The more detainees, the more money they make. It stands to reason that these companies have no incentive to release people quickly. What I had experienced was finally starting to make sense.