#maybe i needed that 5 years to really come to terms with it

[confines]

my vape addict cousin pissed me off so bad the other day bc she swore up and down she was too stressed out to try the nicotine patch right now and i pointed out that nic addicts always say that and it's bc the nic is making you anxious af, the patch will immediately ease that stress and weaning down will cure it in the longterm. and she said no i mean it i really am stressed you have no idea what i'm going through and i pointed out that i quit smoking 10 months after my mom died, with debilitating daily panic attacks and 300 burdens weighing heavily upon me. and she said you just don't understand what i'm trying to say and then explained again that she's just too stressed. and that right there is why she's never going to quit. 🤷

[limarkova]

Yandere Batfam x Neglected Reader x Yandere Al Ghuls

Pt 5.

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The library was quiet when you walked in. Since it was still early in the morning many people hadn't shown up yet. Your luck of finding a tutor were slim right now. It was best to start independent so you could tell a tutor what you needed to learn more about anyway.

You wonder the shelves contemplating where to begin. Maybe the computers to look up what fourth grade standards? Didn't those vary though? Okay maybe you should have goaded your 'family' into telling you were the 'boarding school' was supposedly base. Science sounded like a good option. It used a mix of math and reading comprehension.

You had to choose a science fourth grades typically learned, though. Honestly you wished you could just pick any science and say the school had specialized classes. However you didn't know what type of boarding school Bruce claimed you went to. The slightest misstep and your siblings would alert him that something was up.

Being realistic Bruce could send you back at anytime. By playing into his lies, you would appear compliant or like you don't suspect he was involved. That could buy you time. If it seemed like you were truly trying to integrate back into the family and not expose the experiments, he might let you stay for a little longer. Why get rid of someone if their potential as a threat was limited by their ignorance?

For now you need to match the cover story. Whatever books were labeled fourth grade level than. Maybe a few fifth grade books. You had implied that you were doing more advanced work. Maybe you could safely make the claim that you were placed in advance classes. They had been talking about those during your last year at Gotham prep.

The kids section was full of basic cartoon style books. You browsed a few before frowning. Most of the information was the bare bone minimum. Half the books mark 4th grade level only covered surface level knowledge.

You pulled out a book on human anatomy and almost bursted out laughing. The drawings were over simplifications of the organs, nothing compared to how they really looked. Slimy, covered in veins, shades of pink or gray you didn't expect once the blood was removed. That thought brought back a haunting memory. You shoved the book back on the shelf. Medical research would come later.

Grabbing any books that caught your attention, you headed over to a secluded area. Most of the information was basic understand. Yes, you learned some new things and were fairly certain your reading comprehension was ay the appropriate level. But there was nothing involving math. "Maybe a few tutors have shown up or a librarian can help me call one."

Standing back up you wondering over to the librarian desk. No one was there. You yet out a heavy sigh. Oh course they weren't there, that was just your luck.

"Hello, are you looking for something?" You jumped at the sudden voice behind you. Spinning around you saw a woman with long dark brown hair and green eyes. She carried herself confidently but some part of you screamed the she was capable of violence.

"I was looking into what's available in terms of math tutoring. Maybe social studies or history if that's an options." You angled you body away from her.

She laughed slightly more to herself than you. There was a gleam in her eye, like she was impressed by her assessment. "Well you're in luck. I happened to home schooled my own son in math and know a lot of teachers. What do you need to know?"

"Pretty much everything above adding and subtracting." You scowled down at the books in your arms. It they had and hadn't been useful. Maybe you should take advantage of this woman's help. You needed a tutor, it shouldn't matter who it was also long as your family didn't find out. "What’s your name?"

"I'm Talia." She crouched down to your level and held out a hand. You stopped thinking.

Talia.

The woman mentioned in your mother's diary. It couldn't be. Though she mentioned having a son. No Talia might have been an older flame and Damian's mother had a different name. Maybe you had been to quick to get in a fight with him. Now you couldn't ask him about his mother. What if he sent her to spy on you because you had pissed him off? Not good, really not good.

"I'm (Fake Name)." You gave her the wrong name and watched. If Damian had sent her, she would probably already know your name. So by giving her the wrong one you could figure what she already knew about you. It wouldn't be through her words or actions. No the hints would be subtle. Some kind of disappointment or a sign she felt slighted.

Yet her face remain pleasant. That slight hint of being impressed remaining, "It's nice to meet you. Let's do a few tests so I can see where you are first." Just like that you were swept away into a world of learning.

Talia was beyond impressed with the young Wayne girl. First she correctly identified Talia as a threat. It was obvious by the way she angled herself away from the older woman. How her eyes flicked for the nearest exit, probably a subconscious reaction. Without Talia's weapons or reputation, the girl had pick up on danger.

Next was the wrong name. Said so surely like it truly was her name. The girl shifted so fluidly into the new identity too. Talia would have believed it if she hadn't already done research. Never once did she catch the girl not responding to the name. All without proper training.

However, that all paled in comparison to her true shining trait. The girl's intelligence was well beyond average. She caught trick questions and picked up topics quickly. Talia was willing to bet her intellect could rival Bruce's. Obviously not at her current state, she need guidance to reach that level. Still all the material was there.

"Thank you for the help, today." Her voice was quiet. Movements quick to put away the notebook she had written all of her work in. They had moved from mathematics, to English, social studies, sciences, and the one that she seem the most interested in Criminal Investigation. Damian had taken his father's intelligence but was held back his ego. She didn't have that fault.

Talia smiled, "of course. Will you be returning tomorrow? I would love to continue our lessons. There's a chance I might be able to teach you Arabic."

"Arabic, the language?"

"Yes. I taught my son but well he lives with his father now and I don't get to speak it with him anymore." Talia said the information to get the girl to relax but the opposite occurred.

(Name) bit her lip, "I apologize if this is sensitive to you but what's your son's name?"

"Damian." Talia observed the girl's reaction. Her shoulders tense, body angling again, one deep breath. "Too bad his father turned him against me."

"How?" The girl blinked after saying the word. Her face was too blank to be natural. The information was throwing her for a loop as she tried to make it fit her reality. They would need to work on that.

Talia shook her head sadly, "I'm not a hundred percent certain what he told my boy but I think... I think he made Damian believe that he was in love with me and I broke his heart. Even though it was the other way around when he cheated on me."

Talia watched as the words hit home with the girl. Oh she had chosen the right story to turn her against Bruce. The girl gave her an easy smile that was a smidge too tense in the corners, "Yeah. I'll be here tomorrow. Can I ask one last question?"

"Go ahead." Talia gestured with her hand.

"Do you happened to know any self defense teachers?" Determination morphed her features. It made her come alive in a sense. That fire she saw yesterday back in her eyes and brighter. Confidence shifted her stance into one more sure.

"Oh I know several material arts teachers."

Bruce sat in his car, rubbing his brow. In a little over twenty-four hours since his youngest had shown up at manor things had arguably gotten worst. First the information coming out about (Name) never being at school followed by a full blown investigation by his kids. Than there was what the others had officially dub "The shit list". Damian had become so upset he secluded himself in the barn. Last but certainly not less were the changes the other reported in his youngest.

Dick's last phone call said she was at the library researching for 'school'. They had decided to watch her through the cameras believing space was what she actually need. Yet one thing was clear from the little time she had spent in the manor since coming back. Whatever had happened was traumatic and she was not going to tell them directly. Perhaps whoever had her was now stalking her to ensure she wouldn't cooperate.

Bruce would double the manor's security. He wouldn't fail one of his kids a second time. She hadn't arrived home from the library yet, so Bruce had time to prepare. Taking one last deep breath he exited the car. First stop the Batcave to get an update on investigation.

Bruce might as well have entered a war zone. At least there he would know where to start. Dick and Jason were in a screaming match about who should have been checking in on her. Tim was two steps away from drinking coffee straight from the pot, while pouring over financial records. Barbara looked like she was having an aneurysm. Cass was analysising video footage taking notes on presumably her body language. Duke was being interrogate being Steph on how (Name) acted while the two were out and what she could have been writing in "the shit list."

"Status report." His voice shattered the chaos in a matter of seconds. "Oracle you go first."

"I searched through city wide surveillance feeds and found some video footage from a few days ago. It seems like who ever had her did chase after but..." Oracle, Barbara trailed off. The screen flash to show (Name) being chased by an armed pursuer. In two seconds, she had turned thrown a knife of some kind than ran down an another alleyway. Her pursuer fell to the ground weapon lodged in his throat. "Police reports identified him as James Lenon, a low level criminal with a history of violence. He had a scalpel in his trachea and was pronounced dead on arrival of the scene."

Bruce now understood why Barbara looked ready to have an aneurysm. This footage showed (Name) committing murder. Just to get away from whoever was holding her captive. He could only imagine what might have pushed her to that point. That or she didn't know the guy was dead. It would technically count as self defense either way but not a good sign.

Barbara typed something on her laptop before another video appeared. "Than there's this one." It show (Name) running off screen injured. When she reappeared the injuries were gone, not even a speck of blood. The video ended with (Name) throwing a mangled bullet at the camera. An act of defiance, but towards who.

"Has this video been edited?"

"No. This is the orginial video. Do you think she might actually be a meta?" The room filled with anticipation at that.

Bruce nodded once, "we'll need to test her DNA but the odds are good. Red Robin what do you have?"

"She was telling the truth about her card being stolen. It would seem whoever stole it though knew better than to use it to pay for something directly. All of it's cash withdrawals, the ATMs used are in Gotham though so it's all local. Oracle any updates on ATM footage?"

"Na-da. They're smart, covered their faces with sunglasses and sick masks. Generic brand sunglasses and disposable mask so no identifying markers. They wear them on video until they disappear." Barbara brought several still shots onto the screen.

Bruce nodded to the two, taking in the information. It assumable from the ATM footage alone there were multiple people involved in this. They would need to identify which group had the most to gain.

"Nightwing, Red Hood. What did your investigation of the PO box reveal?"

"They scorched the damn place the night she escaped." Jason dropped a picture of a burnt and destroyed PO boxes on the table. One box in the third row was circled "Also destroyed any mail going to all the PO boxes on that wall. Feds are looking into it since the post office was involved, I couldn't get closer than that."

"The person who orginially opened the box, Marcus Antonio, was found dead last night." Dick placed crime scene photos on the table. A man with a singular bullet wound laid in a pool of blood. There were tipped over and rifled through drawers, books, coffee containers. The scene was mess. "Decided to take a look around. It was a clean hit but catch this. The guy had loads of cash stashed all over the place. GCPD thinks it was a robbery gone wrong since they didn't take all of it and left in a hurry. With what we know, I think it was a targeted attack. They mostly just took the cash they could find, figuring they were going to get cut off"

Tim interrupted, "I second that. All cash withdrawals stopped the day after she escaped. They pulled more than they usually did so the bank flagged the card. It's shut off pending investigation."

Bruce nodded. It was likely that most of the people involved were going to leave Gotham. Cash would be necessary for that. "Any sign of the mail?"

"No but he had a burn bucket in the bedroom." Dick shook his head. Leaning against the table he sighed. "They're getting rid of evidence quickly and have a three day head start."

"Orphan."

"She shows signs of hyper vigilance, avoids cameras, and I think she probing us for information." Cassandra looked up from the tablet she was using one.

"Wait, she's probing us for information?" Tim stopped typing on his laptop before throwing his head back and groaning. "She's become one mystery after another."

"At the breakfast table. She was trying to figure out if we read her diary, was gauging how we all reacted to her mentioning school, and was ensuring the debit card got closed out. The roommates she referred to as troublesome were probably the gaurds."

Everyone nodded. Bruce looked to Barbara, "I want a video of breakfast this morning. I need to know exactly what was said. Spoiler, Signal."

"If she doesn't have PTSD I don't know what she has." Steph leaned back in her chair rubbing her eyes. "Though this one wasn't pay any special anytime to her behavior."

"I didn't know I was supposed to. I genuinely thought she was upset because Damian attacked and having to leave 'school' early." Duke ran a hand over his face. "In the hours we spent at the mall, she implied she had to leave school quickly because something really bad happened. That and she's..."

Duke froze, pieces connecting in his head. When he looked at Bruce, horror started to mix with realization. "Was she a Meta two years ago?"

There was a pregnant pause as everyone in the room thought. Bruce shook his, "No. She never showed signs of being a Meta."

"Disappeared for two years, comes back with meta abilities, refers to the thing making her leave as really bad with potentially two triggers for her being needles and the smell of disinfectant." Duke looked at all of them more pieces falling into place. Bruce's eyebrows knitted together. Duke was on to something but for the life of him, Bruce could piece it together? "What was happening two years when she disappeared? Other than that Joker attack."

It finally hit Bruce what Duke was getting at. Two years ago Meta Human traffickers stop looking for ways to find 'product'. Instead they began looking for ways to create new it. There were reports of them doing horrifying things to create new meta humans. It didn’t work because most of them lacked the funding to get the necessary chemicals and equipment.

Yet, with a Wayne kid's debit card that gets weekly deposits. He even gave her a higher amount than the others because she was supposedly aboard. It was possible but there was one missing component for this. "There are no meta humans in my biological family. She wouldn't have the gene to activate."

"And her mother's half of the family?" It was a valid question for Duke to ask. Bruce thought for a second, had her mother had a meta in her family. She mentioned an aunt that was disowned but that was it.

"Spoiler I want you looking into her mother's side of the family." Bruce gave the command before looking across the room again. "Red Hood start looking into Meta Human Traffickers who went off the grid two years ago. Red Robin you're in charge of looking into whoever made those withdrawals. Find out where that cash went. Oracle, look into the two people we've identified as being involved, get contacts, favorite hunts, anything you can. Send that information to Oprhan and Signal. You two are with me in tracking them down."

"What about me B?" Dick gave Bruce a questioning look.

"You're going to talk with (Name) and get her to open up to you." Bruce nodded at Dick, "Go be her older brother."

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@stove-top96 @mysticalhills @00hellohello00 @a-lurking-fae @yhin-gg @twismare @charlenexoxo1 @moondust-clouds @darkumbreon92 @jsprien213 @bellethesleepypotato @time-shardz @randomlyappearingartist

[f1fantasys]

Thought you were mine all along, guess I was wrong - Part 8

Summary - angstttt

A/N - I may or may not have teared up writing this chapter. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it! Let me know what you think!

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7.

''The baby isn't mine''

''What?'' you asked, all the air leaving your lungs.

Lando's eyes held a sadness for a split second before he turned to look at the floor. ''Yeah'' he whispered.

You on the other hand we reeling, a rush of emotions flashing through your body as you tried to comprehend his words.

''I heard her on the phone then confronted her about it..'' he trailed off as you sat in silence.

He chuckled. ''Ironic really. Get thrown into a new life only to have it snatched away, oh and losing the person you cared about most. Fits me well, don't you think?'' he said, eyes looking up at yours again.

''Lando...'' you said softly, trailing off yourself because you really didn't know what to say. Your heart ached at the fact that something that was 'supposedly is' or was has been taken away from him. But you still felt like you were sitting next to a stranger, someone you had to protect yourself from.

You both sat there in silence til you started talking, needing some space of your own.

''I-I..I'm sorry that it's not yours'' you said sincerely, ''but I need to go'' rushing the words out your mouth because you felt the need to throw up all of a sudden. Too much had been said in the last 20 minutes and you felt like you couldn't breathe.

Before Lando could react you stood up and open the door to his drivers' room quickly, his voice calling your name getting softer and softer with each step you took.

You made your way back to the hotel, practically running up to your room, taking a few deep breaths as you finally made it, tears streaming down your face uncontrollably.

Lando was right. Ironic how this whole situation had unfolded. How the fuck had you ended up here? Your mind was a mess. Too many different thoughts and emotions drifting between each other. You won't lie, hearing the baby wasn't his had lifted a weight off your shoulder. No matter how wrong that sounds, just the thought of hum having starting a family with someone else crushed your soul, so it was an understatement to say that you were happy not to have to picture going forward. Not that anything had changed between the two of you - no. You still thought Lando to be the selfish prick who hurt you more time than you could count, having to now shield your heart from him, and that wasn't going to be easy. Yes, the truth is out now - you coming clean about your feelings and Lando somewhat admitting he felt - for feels - something for you too. Your brain was more than happy to hear those words leave his mouth. but it wasn't so easy to just give in. You owed it to yourself to protect yourself from heartbreak all over again.

Just as you were getting ready for bed that night, your phone lit up with a message from Lando.

''Please can we just talk. I'm so fucking sorry for everything and I miss you so bloody much. I know that makes me sound selfish but please Y/N''

Honestly? You weren't ready to see him or talk to him again. You needed to give yourself time to come to terms with everything, it wouldn't be right to just give in and let him have his way.

''I'm not ready. Maybe when we're back in Monaco'' you replied to him, with his next message coming in within seconds.

''I get that..please just..reach out when you're ready? I'll drop everything to meet you''

3 weeks later, Monaco

Winter break, finally the F1 year had come to an end and you had a whole 3 months of holidays, minus the handful of events here and there for team sponsors.

Since the last time you saw Lando, he'd sent you a beautiful bouquet of flowers with an apology note, while you'd spent a lot of time reflecting on yourself. There was definitely few things you wished you had handled differently -

Firstly, both you and Lando knew that feelings were involved, everyone saw it, though you never addressed it yourselves. Maybe if you did, none of what happened would have occurred in the first place.

Second, the night you saw Lando and Magui, you should never have got with Mitch - the high lasted all about five seconds, and then you were back to square one, and thinking about it now, you were guilty for having used Mitch like that, even though he assured you you were all good.

You wished you were stronger and let your feelings for Lando go through this whole debacle, it would have been easier. You wouldn't have thrown dirty words at each other, and you'd actually have been friends with Magui and him, especially when he made you choose.

BUT, scratch that, you did what was right for yourself at that time, and you sure as hell were better off NOT being friends with Magui.

You also wished Lando had handled this better. He was never one to come clean and show his true feelings especially when he felt vulnerable like that. But you just wished he talked to you about the whole thing, used you as his friend, instead of pushing you away and breaking your heart further each time he saw you. It wont be easy for forgive him, at least not right now, but a part of you will always have a special place for him.

Then your heart broke when he told you the baby wasn't his. It was a relief, yes, but you knew he was hurting. It couldn't have been easy on him, but as much as you wanted to be there for him, you had to put yourself first.

There had been no contact between the two of you since then. Qatar and Abu Dhabi had been amazing races for him, McLaren winning the constructors championship, and you were elated for Lando, but you held your ground, not messaging him in case he got the wrong idea and thought you were ready.

Each day, you willed yourself to move forward, not let the events of the last quarter of the year hold you down, but it was tough. You missed him. So much. You missed everything about him. Things as simple as his presence, once always there for you, listening to you rant, cry, laugh, or be the person in your life that scolded you when you made stupid decisions. You missed his laugh. His crazy, animal-like laugh that always put you in a better mood, his eyes crinkling at the corners as his dimples shone through his gorgeous face. You missed his warmth, strong arms that held you close even when there were unspoken words between the two of you. His ability to make you feel safe and secure.

As much as you tried to hate him , forget him, a split second of a memory would pull you in again, and with each passing day, you craved his touch more and more.

Today was Carmen, George's girlfriends birthday party. She was a close friend of yours, and knowing Lando would be there, you were on edge all day.

A lot of your very close mutual friends had told you just how withdrawn Lando was, somewhat lost without you, and you'd decided that if they two of you talked, you would let him know there'd been a thaw. You weren't ready to be best friends again, no matter how much you craved it, but you would at least be civil, start off slow and build up from there.

He look heavenly.

Beautiful, really. His mop of curls sat perfectly in his head, his eye lashes were as long as your fucking heels, his slight stubble contouring his jaw stunningly, his lips plump, looking oh so delicious. Damn, get a hold of yourself you said to yourself, walking over to your seat, a few away from where he was standing. But god, those biceps on the tight white button up he was wearing.

Your world stopped when his eyes met yours. Deep green, piercing, you legs becoming jelly quickly as he sent you the most beautiful smile.

You smiled back as he closed the gap to you, now a mere three feet away and you were about to fold onto the floor. It should have been awkward, but it was anything but. Instinctively, you both leaned in, kissing each others cheeks, Lando's lips feeling like fire on your skin. You held your breath as you pulled back, smug smile on both your faces as others also moved beside you in greeting.

Finally, you broke the ice.

''Thank you for the flowers'' you said softly.

''You're welcome. It was nothing, really, but a step forward, i hope'' he said, eyes trained on yours.

Before you could say anything more, you were both being ushered to your seats at the table by a very strict Carmen, who hated things running late. And right now, it was dinner time. You loved her though.

Lando was sat a few seats down from you, on the opposite side of the table. More often than not, your eyes would catch one another, and at one point when he was engrossed in conversation with Charles, Carmen nudged your side.

''You doing okay?'' she asked. ''I sat you further away on purpose''

You chuckled, knowing she was only doing what's best for you.

''I'm ok. Promise'' you said when her eyes said they didn't believe you.

The evening was going well, eating, drinking, mingling. At one point you saw Lando stepping outside. This was your chance, you thought. You wanted to speak to him.

You stood beside him on the balcony, over looking the beautiful Monaco coastline. He didn't turn to look your way but his face still broke out into a smile, knowing it was you. Funny how just the presence of someone you adore can comfort you. After everything that happened, Lando was still your everything.

''I know things have been fucking tough lately, can only blame myself for that, but i hate that we've been through so much. Y/N I want you to know that nothing has changed how I've felt about you, for a very long time, before we even got together. If anything, it's only made me realize how much you fucking mean to me. I don't want to keep pretending like this connection isn't there, like we're just 'okay without each other,' even though my actions showed the opposite. I care about you so deeply, adore you so much, and I don't want to lose what we once had'' he turned to look at you, the words spilling out of his mouth as he ran a hand through his hair.

''No pressure. No expectations. I just need you to know that no matter what, I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere'' he continued, a hand cupping your face.

You leaned into his hand, your skin tingling with electricity from his touch as his words hitched your breath. You took a moment to take them in, not react impulsively, while you bought your hand up to rest on top of his, your fingers tangling together as you took a deep breath.

The look in his eyes told you he was being sincere, honest for the first time in a long time with you. They held a warmth and a type of longing that you'd never seen before, not even in your most private moments together.

Something in his demeanor told you that the Lando standing in front of you wasn't the old Lando which yes, you did fall in love with, nor was it the man you'd come to not recognize. This was a new, improved version of himself. He seems wiser, more grounded and carried himself with a quiet confidence, all of which wasn't there before. Yes, he was an amazing person, that was how you grew to love him. But seeing him like this, honest with himself - it only makes you fall deeper in love with him.

You want nothing more than to pull him in for a hug, let him be that safe space for you again. But you still felt like you owed it to yourself to protect yourself, take things slow and not jump into the deep end in fear of getting hurt again, even though your gut feeling was that Lando would never do anything hurtful to you again.

You hands were still intertwined at your side, his thumb rubbing circles on yours as he waited for you to say something.

''Thank you for being honest. I'm sure it goes without saying that I never stopped caring about you either, as much as I tried to get you out of my mind, hate you even, i never stopped. I can't pretend that I wasn't hurt, and I wont ignore the fact that it's been difficult for me to move past everything that's happened. But I don't want to shut us out. I just.. need time. Time to heal, to trust, to feel like we're on steady ground again. There's something here, something that still matters to both of us, and I'm willing to take the steps to see where it leads. I just need to go at a pace that feels right for me, I hope you understand that. If we're going to find out way back to each other, I want to do it the right way'' you said softly, a single tear rolling down your cheek.

Lando wiped the tear away before cupping your face again, with both hands this time. He leaned down so his eyes were level with yours.

''I hear you, and i don't take any of this lightly. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you, and I bloody hate that I did. I know my words alone aren't enough..I need to show you, and I will. You matter to me so much more than I can put into words, and I don't want to rush you into something you're not ready for. No matter how long that takes, you know I'll be here waiting for you, yeah?''

You nodded your head as more tears fell down your face.

''Thank you, that means a lot'' you whispered.

He wiped away the rest of your tears and smiled at you, so genuine that you could help but smile back.

Then he held out his pinky finger. ''Friends?'' he asked, which made you chuckle. ''Friends,'' you said, locking your finger with his.

You looked back over the balcony, your skin heating up knowing he was still looking at you.

''Can a friend ask a friend for a hug?'' he asked softly.

You turned back to him, ''Always'' you replied, opening your arms up as he leaned down to wrap himself around you.

His hold was one filled with relief, tender, but tight, as if he never wanted to let you go, as your arms went around his neck and held him close, breathing in his scent and calming your breathing.

Funny how a single hug like this makes you feel safe, and you were so glad to hopefully be moving forward in the right direction, Lando at your side.

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[coquitokisses]

Back Together | Bucky Barnes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader, (husband!Bucky Barnes x wife!reader, dad!Bucky Barnes x mom!reader)

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings/Tags: Bucky being dad and hubby material, fluff, angst maybe?

Summary: Bucky and reader are married and have two girls, but because of Bucky’s work, reader decides to “break up” and have been separated for a few months. (Let’s say that this “job” was when the whole thing with John Walker happened in TFATWS, idfk lol)

A/N: so I’m currently writing a fanfic (on wattpad) and I had this idea, but I’m not there on the fanfic just yet lol so I decided to just post it here (also, my first language isn’t english so if there are any errors or mistakes, I’m sorry lmao)

The girls are like 4 and 5 years old and those aren’t the names I have planned on using for the fanfic, but it’ll do for now.. and Steve is alive and well lol (he doesn’t make an appearance, but I do mention him, like I said, this idea came as I was writing a fanfic so what I did was try and edit it a little bit so yall don’t need context and shit lol just enjoy okay?)

A/N #2: this is my first time doing this so just bare with me please lmao

It’s almost 10 pm which means Bucky must be on his way to bring the girls back after having them for the weekend. You were away in Seattle the whole weekend for work, but anyways it was Bucky’s turn to stay with the kids. They were supposed to stay with Wanda tonight, but since you arrived earlier than anticipated, you told her that Bucky was gonna bring them over.

You’re not on the best terms. Actually, you’re broken up at the moment and have been like that for like three months now. It all started because of Bucky’s “job”. You always said that he wasn’t being careful with the things he did and you didn’t like the constant worrying about him every time he went out to do his things. He didn’t really see it that way which made you get into a really bad fight and you decided to break up because he wasn’t putting his safety, or his family, as a priority and you didn’t like that.

Which was kinda true. So you’re currently not living together. Bucky has been staying with Steve, or with Sam whenever he comes to New York. The girls usually stay with you and then Bucky takes them on the weekends, but whenever you can’t take them to school (or get them on time) or something on week days, then Bucky takes them without a problem.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to pick them up for you?” Wanda asked while on FaceTime with you

“It’s alright, red, don’t worry.” You replied “Besides, Bucky’s probably on his way anyway.”

“Still haven’t talked?”

“Well we talk, just not about us.” You said walking out of the kitchen

“And are you guys still, like, mad or..?”

“I don’t know.” You let out a sigh

“Steve told you he got out.”

“I know.”

“So?”

“I just.. I don’t know, I haven’t talked to him about it.”

“Well I think you need to.” She said “Just have a little chat and see where things are at.. you guys still love each other.”

And you did. Of course you did. And the girls want you to get back together too. But you just haven’t talked about it again.

“I don’t know, I’ll think about it.” You replied and just as you said that, you saw the car lights through the window “He’s here, I gotta go.”

“Call me if you need anything.”

“I will, love you.”

“Love you more.”

You hung up the call and left the phone on the couch before heading to the door. You opened it and saw Bucky walking over to the house holding Olivia, your youngest, in his arms and Eloise was walking right next to him. And the three of them just looked tired as hell.

“Hi mommy.” Eloise ran over to you

“Hi, pretty girl.” You immediately hugged her

“Say hi to mama, Liv.” Bucky said as he got closer

“Hi mama.” Olivia opened her arms wanting you to pick her up so you did

“Hi, my angel.” You kissed her cheek

“Sorry to bring them so late, we just got out of the cinema.” Bucky said

“Buck, it’s fine, they don’t even go to school yet.” You told him “Did you guys have fun?” You asked the girls

“So much fun!” Eloise replied excitedly “We also went to the trampoline park earlier.”

“Oh well that explains why someone’s a little more tired than others.” You looked at Olivia and she rested her head on your shoulder

“Mommy, can daddy tuck us in tonight, please?” Eloise asked

“Baby, I’m sure mommy had a really long and tired flight and she just wants to sleep.” Bucky told her

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” You said “Daddy will tuck you in, sweetheart.” You tucked a few strands of Eloise’s hair behind her ear

“Daddy, come on.” She grabbed Bucky’s hand

You all went inside and you gave the girls a quick shower before Bucky helped them get in their pjs.

“Mommy, are we staying with auntie Wanda tomorrow?” Eloise asked as she got on her bed

“Yes, baby, I need to go to work.” You replied

“Can’t we stay with daddy?”

“Daddy works too, honey.” You moved her hair out of her face “I thought you liked staying with auntie Wanda.”

“We do, but we wanted to stay with daddy again.” Olivia spoke

“Well I can pick you up at auntie Wanda’s house when I get out of work, how does that sound?” Bucky told them

“And we can get dippin dots too?” Olivia looked at him with puppy eyes

“We can get whatever you girls want.” He said squishing her cheeks making her giggle

You couldn’t help but smile a little. You loved watching Bucky with the girls, he really is an amazing father and they love him like crazy.

“Alright it’s getting super late, time to sleep.” You said to them

“But mom!” Eloise pouted

“No buts, listen to your mom.” Bucky said “Come on, get in bed both of you.”

Each of the girls got in their beds and Bucky went and tucked them both. They have their own separate rooms, but they’re pretty close and they’ve always wanted to sleep in the same room so when the time came and you bought Olivia her big girl bed, Bucky just placed it in Eloise’s room. Anyways, when the time comes when they get to the point where they don’t even want to look at each other, you’ll probably make Bucky move Olivia’s bed back to her room and problem solved. But for now, they absolutely love being in the same room.

“I love you.” Bucky kissed Olivia’s forehead “And I love you.” He then kissed Eloise’s “So so much.”

“We love you too, daddy.” They said

“Now get some sleep because auntie Wanda is coming early tomorrow to pick you up before I leave.” You leaned down to kiss each of them on their heads “I love you both so insanely much.”

“Love you too, mommy.”

“Now go to sleep or I��ll call the slender man.” Bucky said as he turned off the light

He quickly closed the door once you got out of the room and the girls let out a scream that made you both laugh.

“You’re evil.” You chuckled “Creating them traumas so young.”

“It gives them strength.”

You rolled your eyes laughing. “Of course.”

You both went downstairs and then Bucky went back to the car to bring back Olivia’s shoes and a few toys that the girls left in the car. While you put them on the dining table, Bucky was just telling you what they did and how the girls were on the weekend.

“Liv didn’t even asked for my help to wipe her after using the bathroom.”

“No?!” You looked at him kinda shocked

Potty training Eloise was way easier than training Olivia. First she was afraid of the toilet being flushed, then she was afraid that something would come out and bite her, then she didn’t want to stay alone while using the toilet. It’s been a rollercoaster for all of you.

“No, she did it all by herself.”

“Oh my god, really? I’m gonna cry.” You said with a hand on your chest

“She said she’s a big girl and big girls don’t need any help to go potty.”

“She is a big girl.” You said “Fuck, they’re both getting so big.”

“They are.” He nodded “How was Seattle?”

“Fucking amazing.” You said excited “It’s so pretty.”

“And how did it went? Are they planning on transferring you?”

“Hell no, I told Nick I’m not leaving New York.” You replied “If we were still living in the compound, then this would’ve been a whole different conversation, but we’re not and we have kids now so no, I’m not leaving even if they pay me more.”

“Well if they are paying you more then..” he raised his eyebrows

You laughed. “You know what I mean, idiot.” You rolled your eyes “But no, I’m not being transferred.”

“Then why did you go?”

“Nick said that they needed someone like me for some training.” You answered “It was great, I got to teach a few people about self defense, how exciting.”

“I’m glad.” He said with a small smile

He was genuinely happy for you. He knew how much you’ve missed working like that. Being an agent, a spy, you missed it. But at the same time, it wasn’t really in your plans anymore ever since you got pregnant with Eloise. It happened during the blip as well so you weren’t exactly working as an agent or spy anymore so you just decided to leave it behind for good. Until recently.

“You know, if it’s really what you want, then go for it.” He told you “The girls aren’t stopping you and neither am I.”

“I know, but it’s just that I feel like I’m on a different stage in life now.” You said “It felt fucking amazing, don’t get me wrong.”

“Then do it, talk with Nick and tell him to put you out there, that’s what you want.”

“I don’t know.” You let out a sigh

“We’re not going anywhere, you know that, right?” He said and you looked at him “And how cool would it be for the girls to say that their mommy is a spy?”

You laughed. “They will brag about it for sure.”

“And the best part is that you’re great at it and always have been.”

“I don’t know, I’ll think about it.” You shrugged looking at the time on the stove “It’s getting very late.” You looked at him

“Ouch okay, I’m leaving.”

“Oh my god.” You rolled your eyes

“Are we gonna keep this up?” He looked at you

“What?”

“This nonsense.” He motioned his hand between the two of you

“This nonsense?” You arched an eyebrow “Do I need to remind you whose fault is it that we’re on this position right now?”

“It could’ve gone so much better, but little miss I’m extremely petty over here, doesn’t like to listen to people and doesn’t care about anything other than her opinion.” He said

“Oh don’t make me mad, James.” You crossed your arms

“It’s the truth and you know it.”

“I think you can go now.” You said turning around and starting to walk away

“See what I mean?” You heard him say from behind “Can’t we just talk about it like normal people?” He asked following you

“I don’t think there’s anything to talk about.” You said turning around to look at him

“Well I think it is.”

“Bucky..”

“Y/N, come on.” He sighed “It’s been three months, are you gonna keep pushing me away?”

And he’s right, you’ve been kinda pushing him away. To be honest, the whole thing could’ve been avoided if Bucky and you came to an agreement, but you never did. You were upset that he was going away with Sam to do all these things that you weren’t okay with and you were thinking about the kids, which, at the moment, he wasn’t doing and that pissed you off. That was the whole thing. He didn’t want to empathize with the way you were viewing the whole situation and he was kinda making you look crazy. Saying things like “it’s not a big deal” or “everything will be alright, you don’t need to freak out”.

How does he expect you to not freak out when he doesn’t care about doing all this dangerous things? Was he insane?

In other circumstances, if you didn’t have kids for example, maybe you would’ve been a little bit more okay with it, maybe. But it’s a whole different scenario now.

And you were kinda pushing him away, sort of. But it wasn’t intentional, it’s just that you were kinda petty and there were times where he wanted to kinda fix things, but you wouldn’t let him because you would find a way to push him away unconsciously.

“You made me feel like I was exaggerating when I clearly wasn’t.” You said

“Because at the moment I did feel that way and I didn’t want to view the situation the way you were.” He explained “And I know I was wrong for that and I’m sorry.”

You let out a sigh. “You still went.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I should’ve stayed here with you, I regretted it the moment I left with Sam.” He said “And I came back as soon as I could.”

“And you stayed with Steve.” You rolled your eyes

“Baby, you wanted to kill me, do you really think I was just gonna come and ask you to take me back after that shit? Like you were just gonna accept me.”

“… Well, you’re kinda right.”

“I know, Steve told me you were pissed and that you wanted to punch me.”

“I did tell him that.” You nodded

“I’m sorry, I really am.”

“It’s fine, just forget it, I’m sick of the topic anyway.” You replied leaning on the back of the couch

“But are we fine?” He asked

“I don’t know, are we?”

“Well I’d say we are, kinda.” He got closer to you “You want me to do anything?”

“You could start by fixing the damn back door.”

“Again? But I just fixed it a few months ago.”

“Well I think you did it wrong because the doorknob is broken again.”

“I need to change that fucking door already.” He rolled his eyes “Anything else? Are you still mad at me?”

“A little.” You replied

“Just a little?” He moved his hands to your hips “I can help you change your mind.”

“Easy there, soldier.”

“Easy my ass, come here.”

Before you could even protest, his real hand grabbed your neck and he pulled you in for a kiss that screamed need. You really missed his kisses and just the way he would always give you a peck, whenever and wherever, whatever you were doing, he didn’t give a single care in the world. This man could see you sitting on the toilet and he still would go and give you a quick kiss.

“God, I’ve missed you.” He whispered on your lips “I’ve missed you so fucking much.”

“I did too.”

“Can we please never fight again?” He gently put his forehead against yours

“As long as you don’t piss me the fuck off doing some stupid shit like that again, we’re good.”

“Good.” He nodded before kissing you again

“And I swear to god..” you started saying between kisses “If I see you again that close to John Walker, I’m gonna kill you.”

“I know.” He said lowering his hands to the back of your thighs and picking you up

masterlist

a/n: should I post the fanfic here? What do we think? Lol (I’ve been thinking about it A LOT lately)

**UPDATE! I ended up uploading the fanfic and here is the masterlist for it lol

Anywaysss, hope you liked this! <3

(Likes and reblogs will be appreciated)

[thehouseofurmotha]

In all honesty, I'm such a fan of the bakugo x aizawas daughter!reader series (if i can all it that)

I'm in NEED of new oneshots basically anything will do

AHH PLEASE TYSM @kitthefanfickat FOR REQUESTING THIS I LITERALLY LOVE ANY EXCUSE TO WRITE DADZAWA <33

Pt. 3 to loud blonde <3 (as for all of them could be read on its own as a standalone one shot.)

Pt. 1, pt. 2

Summery: y/n starts feeling really left out of her father's life, and her loud blonde boyfriend is there to comfort her and fix the pieces of her that have broken.

Warnings: swearing, angst, mommy issues!! Mentions of mental abuse snd neglect,

You loved your father, and you knew how much he did for you. But sometimes you couldn't help but feel left out of his life. Recently he's started spending the little free time he has training a kid in your general studies class.

Hitoshi Shinsou, you've talked to him on more than one occasion. You and him have a very similar personality, and in reality he kind of reminds you of your father. Which is why it makes sense that he took a liking to the kid. But fuck did you feel like shit.

You knew that your father loved you too, and that there wasn't anything that he wouldn't do for you. But you still, couldn't help but feel left out of his world. The world of being a hero, you suppose.

You've never once regretted your decision to not become a hero like your father. Maybe it was from your mother drilling it into your head as a child that hero's are bad, and you should never want to be one.

For the first 5 years of your life you were raised by a mother who simply did not care about you. Maybe she saw to much of your father in you to ever truly love you. She had left your father before you were born, as a child you fantasized about him coming to save you and take you away from your mother. But even as a child, you knew the chances were unlikely as the chances he knew you existed were very slim. Your mother would tell you that, all the time. She would constantly remind you that no one loved you, and nobody was coming to save you.

For a long time you couldn't come to terms with the truth that your mom was an awful person. You wanted to hate her but she was still your mother. No matter how much she neglected and manipulated you.

The day of your 5th birthday, your mother finally snapped. She hadn't been taking care of you in months, you were practically skin and bones. Your hair was in one huge mat.

As a child, most kids were excited for their birthdays. Not you, your birthday just reminded your mother more of 'mistake' she made by not getting rid of you. You woke up and made your way to the kitchen in hopes she would have made herself breakfast and you could steal whatever scraps ended up left.

You were lucky that morning that she did. Or so you thought, she had went to the couch to watch her show while she ate. And you saw this as the perfect opportunity to eat a little bit of the food she had left over, even if you couldn't have much it was better than nothing.

You quietly dragged a chair over to the stove and picked at the extra eggs and bacon lying in a pan. You thought your mother had been preoccupied, but she must have forgotten something, you didn't really know.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?" She screamed some how louder than she ever has at you before. You immediately burst into tears stuttering an apology over and over again.

"I was just so hungry mommy I'm so sorry- I- I won't do it again-" She looked at you with burning hatred as you begged for her forgiveness. You didn't understand what you had done to deserve this.

"Get the fuck out of my house." You sob even harder at this. You were just a kid where were you supposed to go.

"Mommy please-" you beg, you don't want to get kicked out. You just wanted her to love you.

"Get out. Now." She was unnaturally calm while saying this. You kept sobbing and sobbing as you stood on your tippy toes to reach the door handle. Suddenly you were no longer in that house, and surrounded by a cold uncaring world.

You don't know how, but you managed to make it to a police station. You knew that these people would help you. You just wanted to be saved, like the people your father helped. Why couldn't he help you.

You push the large doors open, not without struggle though. You see a pretty woman sitting at a desk in front of you with a kind smile.

"Hi honey, where are your parents?" Her comment makes the tears that had previously stopped come back even harder. No body had ever been that gentle with you.

"M-mommy kicked me out-" You sob and hiccup throughout the sentence and the lady gives you a look of pity. She quickly gets up from her desk and wraps you in her warm arms.

"You're safe now sweetie, you're safe." You shove your face into her chest and sob harder. Never having felt such loving touch. "Can you come with me honey? We just need to ask you some questions so we can figure out how to help you."

You look up at her and give her a small nod. You're brought back into an interrogation room, but the kind lady never leaves your side. She sits in the chair next to you asking if you need anything. She offers you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

"don't know what that is.." It's hard for you to admit, you really didn't know what anything was. It was a miracle that you had learned how to talk at all.

"It's a very yummy food, and it'll help you feel better." She adds the second part after heading your stomach grumble. You not giving her approval, "I'll be right back honey." She says this as she walks out of the door leaving you alone.

You pull your knees to your chest. You were so scared, you just wanted your mom to love you.

You wake up from the nightmare, if you could even really call it that. It was nothing but the truth, the harsh reality you had to face that your mom had abandoned you.

You hazily make you way out of bed, tears gently falling from your eyes. You make your way straight to your father's bedroom, it's a Saturday so he should still be in bed asleep. But he's not and an overwhelming panic sets onto you. You go and search the rest of the house hoping that he just woke up early today.

As you're searching you find a letter on the kitchen counter, and it reads

'Hi hun,

Left to do some training with Shinsou, I'm not sure when I'll be home. But if you want me to pick up food or anything on the way home just text me. Have a great day.

Love, Dad'

The letter only manages to make you sob harder. You just wanted your father, and he was just with another kid. With this thought, you started to spiral. With the thoughts that your father's going to leave you, just like your mother did. Maybe you should have become a hero, maybe he'd like you better. You start thinking of all the things you could've done wrong, all the things that could make him hate you like she did.

Eventually you start to recognize that you are not in the state of mind to be alone. But texting your father asking him to come home now seems like the scariest thing ever. So you settle on the next best person.

As soon as you had just simply said please he knew something was wrong. You never invited him over without telling your father. You respected your father to much for that.

As to his promise, Katsuki arrived 15 minutes later. He pounded on the door until you opened it; you weren't sure if it was because he was worried, or this was something he would always do if you didn't wait outside for him. But today you simply didn't have the energy.

You walk over the door quietly unlocking it before sitting back on the couch. Your boyfriend obviously hears you unlock it cause he's bursting through the door a second later. He scans the room looking for you and as his eyes land on your disheveled body, with tears still running down your face.

He gently wraps you in his arms, holding you as close as he can. "Talk to me doll what's goin on?" He just wants to know how to help you. The softness in his voice seems to only make you sob harder.

"He- he's gonna leave me- he's gonna leave- I'm not good enough he's gonna leave-" This only left Katsuki with more questions. Who was 'he'? It couldn't be your father would it? What would he have done to make you feel like this, Katsuki thinks he may kill your father if it was him.

"Who baby? I need to know so I can help you, I just want to help you." He gently rubs your back, the soothing motion help you to start sobbing a little less. But in the moment Katsuki thinks that any progress is good progress.

"My- my dad- he's gonna- he's gonna leave me just like she did-" Katsuki's suspicions are confirmed with this. It was about your father, and he could only assume the she was your mother. He knew a little bit of what had happened. He knew that you didn't have contact with your mother, but that was pretty much the extent to what you had told him. He really didn't know what to do, so he texted the one person who might.

"You good sensei? You look even more miserable than normal." Shinsou and Aizawa have always had a sort of playful banter while sparring. And even though they're on a water break they normally keep it going. And when Shinsou noticed that Aizawa was staring at his phone with his brows creased, of course he was gonna do some teasing.

"Sorry to call it quits early, but I have to go kid. Something's going on with my daughter." Aizawa is really panicking internally, wondering what he could have done to upset you. He doesn't know, he thought you had been fine. But obviously not.

"Oh you're all good, I didn't know you had a daughter Sensei." Shinsou was a little taken aback by that comment. Never having heard about this mysterious girl.

"Yeah.. have a good day Shinsou I'll see you Monday morning before classes."

"Alright see you then sensei, thank you." And with that Aizawa gets in his car has fast as he can. Thoughts racing, he just wants to know what's wrong with his daughter. What he did, so he can fix it.

He doesn't want you to feel like he's going to leave you like your mother did. He never would. He definitely speeds a bit on the way back to your guys apartment but honestly, he doesn't care. He just wants to hold his daughter and tell her that everything will be okay.

He quickly arrives at your guys apartment, due to the fact that it's not very far U.A. He rushes up the stairs to get to get to your apartment.

As he opens the door, he's greeted with the sight of you sobbing into Bakugou's chest. The boy looks up at him with a puzzled look on his face. This tells Shouta that he's made no progress figuring out what sparked this.

Quickly he makes his way to you and picks you up out of Bakugou's lap. The boy goes to resist it but he just sends a glare at him and the boy takes the hint. Allowing him to carefully cradle you to his chest, the way he would when you were upset as a child. This action causes you to only sob harder.

"I'm not leaving hun, I'm not going anywhere's. I'm not leaving." He just keeps repeating that he's not leaving you. And this manages to get you calm enough to form semi coherent sentences.

"Msorry- I was just being dramatic- I'm sorry-" you mumble this out with your face shoved into his chest.

"Honey, if you're this upset it's not dramatic I promise. I need you to tell me what's wrong hun, please. Let me fix this." With a sigh he holds you closer, he just wants to make you feel better.

"I just- I had a dream- more a nightmare I guess- of um- the day my mom you know- kicked me out- and then you weren't here.. and you've been spending so much time out of the house. And I know your training Shinsou and he's a nice kid and would make a good hero- but I don't know- I feel like he's taken up the little bit of time that we would spend together- it's stupid but part of me thinks you like him better because he wants to become a hero and I don't.." Once it starts to come out you just couldn't stop. You had told him everything you had been feeling. He looks at you with a look that makes it impossible to tell how he feels.

"I'm so sorry, kid. I should've thought about you would feel about this, but I need you to know nothing you could do could ever make me love you less, or love someone else more. I need you to know that I'm not going to leave you, not ever. I will not abandon you like she did. I promise I'll make extra effort to hang out with you, I'll call out of patrol tonight. Me and you, as well as Bakugou if you would like, can all hang out and have a movie night. Or whatever you want to do, anything to make you feel better. I'm so sorry." You start to cry again, but this time more of relief than anything. You had finally gotten the reassurance from him that you needed.

"Also hun, I don't care about you not becoming a hero, all I want is for you to be happy and do something you love. And I know analysis is that thing."

"Thank you dad.. but you um- you don't have to call out tonight I'll be fine."

"Nah it's alright, I'll just get Hizashi to cover and he'll do it no complaints." This causes you to giggle, you truly do love your father and Hizashi's relationship.

"I love you dad." You say this with a smile on your face looking up at him.

"I love you too kid."

The two of you sit in silence for a while before you're the one who breaks it. "I think that I want to try and contact her.." You whisper this not knowing how your father will feel about this.

"If you think that's what you need to do, then I'll support you 100%." The reassurance that he's not upset at the idea is comforting.

You notice that at some point your boyfriend had left. You figured that he just went outside, to the benches at the front of the building. Because you know that Katsuki would never leave you with out saying bye.

You spend the rest of the night sitting between your two favorite people feeling more content than you had in a while. And even though there was anxiety about trying to talk to your mother, you know that they would get you through it. And that was all the comfort you needed.

Okay so I definitely meant to finish my Shinsou x reader one shot before I finished this, but I got a little carried away when I started- soooo! Anyways I hope you enjoy! Happy reading <3

[crushpunky]

a cameron family vacation: exploring the city

masterlist | kook!reader masterlist

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

Y/n woke up to a weight pressing down on her back, pressing her stomach deeper into the mattress. With a groan, she blinked the sleep out of her eyes and lifted her head up, trying her best to turn over onto her back despite being pinned under the weight. As she turned, she was greeted with the ruffled hair of Rafe, his face lifting to meet her with a groggy smile.

“Get off of me.” Y/n scoffed, pushing Rafe’s face away from hers playfully. He tried to fight her, but as her hands continued to smush his face, he eventually succumbed and rolled onto his side with a laugh.

“Rude.” Rafe groaned, pushing himself up to rest against the headboard. He was still wearing his shorts from the night before, his sweatshirt ditched sometime throughout the night leaving him in a white t-shirt.

“What was rude was immediately falling asleep and taking up the entire bed, boy.” Y/n said with a quirk of her brow. Rafe shook his head, running a hand through his bedhead with a chuckle.

“Would you have rather slept with Sarah or Wheezie?” Rafe pointed out.

“Hmm, maybe John B.” Y/n teased, causing Rafe’s face to immediately fall in a way that made y/n smirk.

“Don’t joke about that.” Rafe muttered, grabbing his pillow and tossing it in her face before climbing out of the bed. He reached down, quickly pulling off his shirt and tossing it into the corner before beginning to dig through his luggage. Y/n found herself watching, her eyes trailing along the freckles that adorned his back and the mess of golden hair that rested on the nape of his neck.

“Wake up! Wake up!” A sudden bang on the door caused y/n to jump, Rafe seemingly unphased as he continued digging through his luggage. The source of the voice was revealed as the door slid open, revealing Sarah, already dressed and ready for the day, an excited smile on her face.

“Oh my god, y/n, there is this coffee place down the street that we have to go to.” Sarah rambled, inviting herself into the room and plopping down on the bed. Rafe glared at her, finally grabbing some clothes from his luggage before shoving the mess back into his suitcase.

“Thank god, I need some coffee. Barely got any sleep because of this one.” Y/n pointed at Rafe, who just shrugged. Sarah’s eyes widened, her gaze darting between the two of you with a questioning glare. Rafe rolled his eyes, before making his way into the bathroom.

“I’m taking a shower.” He grumbled, closing the door behind him.

“You’re worse than Ward and Rose.” Y/n rolled her eyes, climbing out of bed and padding across the floor. With a yawn, she picked out an outfit for the day.

“Ah, that’s what that was about.” Sarah raised her eyebrows teasingly, leaning back to rest on her elbows, referring to the odd encounter between y/n, Rafe, and Ward when they had attempted to enter the hotel last night. Y/n shook her head at the memory, tugging on a pair of linen shorts and beginning to smooth her bed head into something manageable. The room fell into a sort of silence, the only noise the quiet lull of the shower and the street outside.

“Look, I hate my brother as much as anyone else, but you can’t deny that there’s something there.” Sarah smiled innocently. Y/n knew Sarah had suspicions about her more than just friendly feelings towards Rafe. Y/n didn’t have to tell her, nor could she ever tell her, there was a sort of unspoken agreement between them to not say anything about it in fear of making it into something bigger than it really was: y/n had feelings for Rafe, he didn’t reciprocate, and over the years she had come to terms with that reality.

“He doesn’t see me like that Sarah.” Y/n sighed, plopping down on the bed next to Sarah. Sarah frowned slightly, brushing a bit of hair out of y/n’s face.

“I’m sorry, y/n. My brother’s an idiot.” Sarah whispered, patting y/n’s cheek lightly.

“Ouch.” Rafe’s voice caused the two girls to whip their heads around. He had just stepped out of the bathroom, his wet hair dripping onto a fresh button down and shorts.

“Finally. Let’s go.” Sarah rolled her eyes, hopping off the bed. She turned to y/n, offering her hand out before pulling y/n to her feet and out the door.

“You better not be planning on stealing my best friend this whole trip.” Rafe grumbled.

“Don’t be a grump, boy.” Y/n teased, grabbing Rafe’s hand and tugging him out the door with them. Despite the faux-serious demeanor Rafe couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

The walk from the hotel to the coffee shop was much longer than Sarah had let on, y/n regretting the flimsy sandals she had put on as they continued to trudge down the cobbled streets of Italy. Sarah and John B walked a measured distance in front of them, laughing and holding hands, only occasionally turning around when they came to a fork in the road.

“Why did we let her navigate again?” Rafe groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. Y/n laughed, glancing at the various stores and stands that lined the streets. Her eyes caught a small flower stand, lingering long enough for her pace to slow down. Rafe, who had been walking in stride with her for the entirety of the journey thus far, immediately noticed the sparkle in her eye and reached for his wallet.

“What’re you—” Y/n asked as Rafe cut in front of her, a smirk on his face as he walked over to the flower stand. Y/n’s quickly looked up to where Sarah and John B were, who had, much to her surprise, stopped for them. They waved, gesturing to the storefront of what just so happened to be the cafe they had walked all this way for.

“Yeah, yeah, ciao,” Rafe said to the man at the flower stand. Y/n turned back to him, the same smirk on his face but this time, a stunning bouquet of purple and blue flowers adorned with a bit of twine.

“Here. Consider it an apology for your lack of sleep.” Rafe said simply, handing the flowers to her before continuing down the street as if nothing had happened.

“Thanks, boy.” Y/n laughed, hurrying to keep up with him. Once she had caught up, she grabbed Rafe’s bicep, giving it a light squeeze before they ended up in the cafe.

“We thought you guys— oh my god! Those are the most beautiful flowers I have ever seen.” Sarah said as y/n and Rafe joined them in line, hitting John B’s arm to tear his attention away from the elegantly arranged pastry case.

“Well, Rafe got them from the stand just down the street,” Y/n grinned, peering up at Rafe, who was already looking down at her with a grin.

“We’ll have to stop there on the way back.” John B said, scratching the back of his neck as he glanced over at Sarah.

“You’ve got enough cash?” Rafe said slyly, a challenging smirk on his face. Y/n elbowed his side lightly, turning her attention from the boy to the pastries in front of them.

“Just when I was about to say you weren’t being a total asshole this morning.” Sarah rolled her eyes before walking up to the counter to place her order. John B followed before y/n stepped to the counter.

“Can I get a croissant and a small, iced, vanilla—” Y/n started, pointing to one of the fluffy croissants in the pastry case.

“She’ll get a large, iced, vanilla latte, hm? I’ll get just a small coffee and another croissant.” Rafe said, sparing a glance down at her as he rattled off her usual order with ease before quickly swiping his card. Y/n felt her cheeks warm as Rafe grabbed their orders, handing hers to her before the two of them made their way out to the patio where Sarah and John B sat. Rafe pulled out y/n’s chair before sliding into the seat next to her, taking a sip of his coffee as everyone began digging into their pastries.

“So, I was thinking we could go down to the beach later, maybe do some sight seeing? There’s a bunch of museums and churches and…” Sarah rattled off, but y/n found her focus wandering out to the expansive waters of the ocean. Cliffs jutted out into the water, their bright orange a stark contrast to the brilliant blue of the water.

“It’s no Kildare.” Rafe said, raising his eyebrows teasingly as Sarah and John B continued to talk about the plans for the week.

“I forgot I was talking to world traveller Rafe Cameron who thinks the Outer Banks are ‘Paradise on Earth’.” Y/n giggled, taking a sip of her coffee.

“Nowhere else has the same memories though.” Rafe pointed out, gesturing with his croissant.

“Who knew you were such a sentimental young man?” Y/n shook her head.

“I think you’ll find that I’m very much full of surprises this vacation.” Rafe said, resting his arm on the back of y/n’s chair.

“Is that so?” Y/n quirked her brow, to which Rafe simply nodded, a sly grin on his face.

[just-a-ghost00]

How will you meet your next lover?

Group 1

Cards : 2 of pentacles, Knight of pentacles, Temperance, page of cups, ace of swords, 4 of pentacles

This feels like a work setting or at least a work related meeting. You might not necessarily meet them directly at work but your occupation may lead you to meet this person. I feel like either one or both of you are in a transition when you meet. If not, a period of instability. It's like you're not really sure whether you want to keep going in the direction you're headed to. When you meet, I feel like the connection is instantly going really smoothly. You and this person may be chatting right away, exchanging ideas and tips. However, I feel like both of you are on the reserve. I don't see anyone being at the origin of your meeting with them. You will likely be surrounded by people but they will not come into play here. It's just you and your person interacting with each other. I feel like both of you are single when this happens. The transition phase may concern your respective studies or career. There might not be much going on upon first meeting. But you will instantly feel attracted to them, especially to their mind. In terms of timing, I'm picking up on a few years. A little pigy bank was depicted on the 4 of pentacles card. So I'm getting the message that in order to meet this person, you will have to save money. Or you will meet them at a point in your life when you or they need to save money for a project. Maybe you live at a distance from one another and when this person meets you, you or they are only there for a short period of time. Which would explain the transition thing. Think about a tourist visiting a country and making acquaintances with the locals.

Group 2

Cards : 4 of pentacles, 9 of swords, Queen of swords, Magician, 6 of swords, King of pentacles

I am getting a work setting from this group as well. You might have felt drawn to group 1 too. For this group, I'm picking up on a difficult phase in your career. Maybe you've reached a stalemate. You're working really hard to ensure your future and stability but somehow you're not seeing any progress. This may lead to you feeling anxious or even being depressed. I see that during this period of time, you're not entertaining any relationship. You feel very guarded and hurt and the last thing you need is for someone to come into your life and see you stuck in this mess. Yet, that's what happens. This person is also single and very career focused. You may meet them at a time of their life when they're travelling for learning purposes. This person has reached a stale mate in their career as well. And in order to overcome this phase, they have decided to make a move and find an opportunity to learn more and get more resources. This person decided to force their luck so to speak. "If I'm not going to be given the sucess that I seek, I'm going to create it on my own, no matter how hard that may be" was their mindset. Neither of you expected to meet each other. I don't know why I keep talking in past tense. This could be an indication that you may have met this person already. I get a vibe from you that both of you are very witty and cerebral people. This may be what got you to interact with each other in the first place. I'm picking up on different zodiac signs which could give us an indication as to who they are or when you met them. We have Gemini, Libra, Taurus and Scorpio. So that gives us a time frame from mid June to mid November. You may have met them during Summer.

Group 3

Cards : Hierophant, 5 of cups, The World, 10 of pentacles, King of cups, 10 of cups

For this group, the place of the meeting may vary. What triggers this meeting is a loss. It could be the loss of a partnership in any form (person, contract) or of an important belief system. In both cases, this really affected you on a spiritual and emotional level. When you start to overcome this loss and feel a bit more optimistic about life is when this person comes in. You may be travelling abroad or interacting with a lot of foreigners online. Your job or studies are going well. You may be travelling or enhancing your presence online in order to gain knowledge, notoriety or resources. The person you meet is very generous. Right off the bat, you will get a very good impression of this person. They will make you feel safe and cared for like no other. One way that you can recognize this person is by how sweet and kind they are. They will gift you many things out of the blue, for no other reason than to make you smile. They will give you compliments out of the blue, reassure you very frequently, encourage you every step you take. This person is a very good listener and a reliable support system. When you meet and start interacting, you may be living at a distance from each other and thus use social media to stay in touch. I'm picking up on fixed signs very strongly, especially Taurus and Scorpio. When you meet this person, you will notice that a lot of things in your life are improving. It will almost feel surreal. It's like this person has unlocked a cheat code that you weren't aware of and now all you ask for is in your hands. Lucky you!

[theonottsbxtch]

TEACHER'S PET PT.4 | CL16

an: final part let's go!! can't wait to hear what you guys think about this and many thanks to @iimplicitt my beloved for writing the smut scene since i absolutely suck at it.

wc: 6.4k

warnings: smut mdni 18+ only, infidelity, oral (f), fingering, unprotected p in v (don't be silly, wrap your willy x)

Charles leaned back in his chair, eyes on the academic papers scattered across his desk, though his attention was elsewhere. Across from him, Professor Gasly was rambling on about departmental logistics, something about reallocating teaching assistants for the next term. Charles nodded occasionally, keeping up appearances, but his mind was already on the ticking clock, counting down the minutes.

Six o’clock was approaching. Too slowly.

He glanced at his watch, trying not to make it obvious. 5:58.

Just a few more minutes.

"And, of course, there’s the issue of the undergrads for next term," Pierre was saying, his voice a steady drone, punctuated by the sound of a page flipping over in his notepad. "You know, I’ve had a number of students in the seminar expressing interest in your modules. You’ve built quite a reputation with them."

Charles gave a noncommittal hum, his mind drifting. He hadn’t been able to focus on much all day. Not after that kiss. The memory of it was still imprinted on his senses—the taste of her, the heat of her skin under his hands, the way she’d looked at him with that intoxicating mix of desire and defiance.

She’ll be here soon.

As if on cue, a movement outside the window caught his eye. He shifted his gaze, and there she was.

She stood just outside his office, her figure outlined by the soft glow of the hallway lights. Her hair was slightly tousled, lips parted as if she was catching her breath. She hadn’t bothered with her usual careful posture—her shoulders were relaxed, almost languid. He could see the anticipation in her stance, even from here. Her eyes darted toward the office door, and for a brief second, their gazes met through the glass.

His pulse quickened.

Pierre, oblivious to the shift in Charles’s attention, continued his monologue. "Of course, I was thinking about restructuring the curriculum for our electives. There’s a student in your lecture—I think she’s in one of mine as well—what’s her name? Oh yes, Miss. Impressive work ethic. Top marks. One of those who really stands out."

Charles turned his head slightly, glancing at Pierre. His colleague followed his line of sight, and Charles knew immediately he’d seen her standing outside.

"Ah, speaking of," Pierre said, his tone slightly more interested now. "That’s her, isn’t it? Always punctual, always prepared. You’ve got a meeting with her, I assume?"

Charles felt his throat tighten, though his expression remained composed. "Yes," he said evenly, trying to maintain the professional front. "She needs help with an assignment for another module. I promised to take a look."

Pierre glanced back toward the window, where she still waited, her body bathed in the soft glow of the evening light. His gaze lingered on her for a moment too long, his eyes subtly sweeping up and down her figure before he turned back to Charles with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, she certainly has the kind of focus we like to see," Pierre remarked, a thin smirk playing on his lips. "You don’t come across students like her every day."

Charles’s jaw clenched, though he nodded, forcing himself to keep his tone neutral. "She’s dedicated," he said, his voice a little lower than before.

Pierre leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest, clearly in no hurry to leave. "Very dedicated," he agreed, still smirking. "Maybe she’ll volunteer to be your TA next year, she’s a good one."

Charles’s eyes flicked back to the window, where she had shifted her weight, crossing her arms, the smallest hint of impatience in her stance. The way her blouse clung to her frame made it impossible for him to focus on anything Pierre was saying.

He needed to get this over with. Now.

"Pierre," he said, cutting into the professor’s musings. "I’ve really got to get started with her. We’re on a tight deadline."

Pierre chuckled softly and stood up, collecting his notepad and pushing his chair back. "Of course, of course. I’ll leave you to it. Tell Miss I said she’s doing excellent work."

Charles nodded, already standing as Pierre made his way to the door. As Pierre opened it, he gave her a polite nod on his way out. "Good evening, Miss," he said.

She responded with a quiet, "Good evening, Professor Gasly," her voice steady, though her eyes were firmly on Charles as she stepped into the office.

Pierre disappeared down the hall, leaving them alone.

The door clicked shut, and the silence that filled the room was thick, heavy with the weight of everything unsaid.

She stood in the centre of the room, her gaze on him, unblinking, waiting for him to make the next move.

Charles took a slow breath, the tension in the air between them building as they regarded each other. The boundaries they’d already crossed lingered in the space between them, ready to be shattered completely.

Without a word, he gestured toward his desk, though he wasn’t entirely sure either of them intended to sit.

"Close the door," he said, his voice low, firm.

She didn’t hesitate. The door clicked shut once more, this time locking them in the room together with all the desire and recklessness that had been simmering since their last encounter.

It was six o'clock, and they both knew exactly what they were here for. Charles’s gaze met hers. The tension in the room was palpable, thick with unspoken desire. She stood in the centre of his office, her eyes dark with intent, and without a word, she slowly moved toward his desk.

Charles’s pulse quickened as he watched her, the anticipation humming in his veins. She didn’t hesitate—she just sat on the edge of his desk, her posture casual, yet there was nothing casual about the way she looked at him.

Her legs crossed at the ankle, her skirt sliding just slightly up her thighs as she perched on the edge of the wooden surface. The soft glow of the lamp on his desk cast her in a warm light, but it was the heat in her eyes that held him captive.

She didn’t say anything. Neither did he. There was no need for words right now.

Instead, Charles moved toward the windows, crossing the room with deliberate, measured steps. He could feel her eyes on him the entire time, watching, waiting. His hands gripped the cord of the blinds, pulling it down, and in one smooth motion, the office was sealed off from the outside world. The blinds fell shut with a quiet thud, the last sliver of daylight vanishing, leaving them enclosed in the dim intimacy of the room.

When he turned back to face her, she hadn’t moved. She still sat on the edge of his desk, her hands resting casually at her sides, but there was a fire burning in her eyes, a challenge, an invitation.

Charles’s breath came heavier now, the weight of what was about to happen pressing down on him, but he didn’t resist it. He crossed the room until he was standing right in front of her, close enough to feel the heat of her body. He could see the rise and fall of her chest, the way her breath had quickened, mirroring his own.

He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could speak, she raised a finger to her lips, silencing him with nothing but a quiet shh.

The move caught him off guard, but he didn’t fight it. He stood there, frozen for a moment, as she leaned forward, her fingers curling around the end of his tie. She tugged on it gently, just enough to pull him closer. His breath hitched as he allowed himself to be drawn toward her, the distance between them shrinking until there was barely any space left.

And then, before he could process it, her lips were on his.

The kiss was hot, urgent, a collision of need and desire that made his mind go blank. Her hands twisted in his tie, pulling him even closer as her mouth moved against his with a hunger that matched his own. There was no hesitation this time, no second-guessing—just the raw, electric connection that had been building between them for weeks.

Charles groaned softly against her lips, his hands finding her waist, fingers curling around the fabric of her skirt as he pulled her against him. The feel of her body pressed to his sent a jolt of electricity down his spine, and he couldn’t stop himself from deepening the kiss, his tongue sweeping against hers, tasting her, claiming her.

Her legs parted slightly as she shifted on the desk, drawing him in closer until he was standing between them. Her fingers moved from his tie to his shirt, fumbling with the buttons, her hands insistent, needy. Every brush of her fingers against his skin sent sparks through him, each touch driving him further over the edge.

He let out a low, throaty growl, his hands sliding up her sides, feeling the softness of her body under his palms. Her skin was warm, inviting, and he wanted nothing more than to explore every inch of it, to lose himself in the feel of her.

But she wasn’t passive in any of this. Her hands were everywhere—his tie, his shirt, his hair. She was guiding the kiss now, setting the pace, her lips moving against his with an urgency that made his heart pound in his chest.

She kissed him deeper, harder, like she couldn’t get enough. And neither could he.

Charles’s hands slid up her back, tangling in her hair as he tilted her head back, giving him better access to her lips, her neck. He kissed a trail down her jawline, his breath ragged against her skin. Her hands were pulling him closer still, tugging at his shirt, her nails grazing his chest through the fabric.

His self-control was unravelling, faster than he’d expected. Every touch, every kiss was a reminder of just how far they’d already crossed the line. And yet, instead of pulling back, he was sinking deeper, his body pressing into hers, his lips trailing down her throat, tasting the softness of her skin.

She moaned softly in response, her fingers gripping his shirt tighter, her body arching into him. The sound of her voice—low, breathy, filled with need—sent a surge of desire through him that was impossible to ignore.

He was on the edge, teetering between reason and pure instinct, and all it would take was one more moment, one more kiss, to push him over.

And then the sound of his own ragged breath reminded him where they were. His office. His desk. The world was just outside that door, but right now, it felt like they were the only two people in existence.

His lips hovered just above hers, their breaths mingling as they both paused, the reality of their situation crashing over them for a brief second.

Her hands were still on him, her fingers tangled in his shirt. His own hands rested on her hips, thumbs brushing the soft skin just above her waistband. They were both caught up in the moment, knowing they should stop but unable to find the will to do so.

The only thing that broke the silence between them was the quiet, unsteady beat of their breaths.

"Slow down," Charles muttered against her lips, his voice husky and ragged. His breath came in shallow gasps as he gently pulled back, his hands slipping from her waist. He stepped away from her, creating just enough space to catch his breath, though the need still burned in his eyes.

She blinked, her chest rising and falling quickly as she looked at him, clearly reluctant to stop. Her hands hovered in the air, as if unsure of what to do now that he’d created distance between them.

Charles took a steadying breath and stepped back toward his chair, his hands running through his tousled hair. He didn’t break eye contact, though, not for a second. The heat between them hadn’t lessened—it had only intensified, simmering just below the surface.

He sank into his chair, his tie still loose around his neck, his shirt slightly undone from where her fingers had been. His gaze never left her as he slowly leaned back, legs parted, watching her with that dark, hungry look that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Mon Ange, viens la," he said softly, his voice a low, velvet command.

She hesitated for only a second before lifting her leg towards him, her body still thrumming with the tension that hung in the air. He reached out, his hand curling around her ankle, and slowly guided her leg up, placing her foot on his knee.

She balanced herself, her breath catching as she felt the warmth of his hand on her calf.

Charles's fingers moved with deliberate slowness, unbuckling the strap of her shoe. His touch was light, teasing, as he slid the shoe off her foot, letting it drop to the floor with a quiet thud. His hands lingered on her skin, his thumb brushing soft circles over her ankle as he looked up at her, eyes heavy with intent.

"You have no idea," he whispered, his voice roughened with barely controlled desire. "What you do to me."

Her breath hitched at the way he was looking at her, the intensity in his gaze making her knees feel weak.

His hand slid up her calf, slowly, agonisingly slowly, as though he was savouring every inch of her skin. He leaned forward slightly, his lips grazing her ankle in a featherlight kiss, barely a whisper of contact. It sent a jolt of heat through her, her body tightening in response.

"I’ve been thinking about this," he murmured, his mouth brushing the curve of her calf now, kissing a path higher. "Since the moment you walked through my door."

Her fingers curled into the edge of his desk for balance as his lips travelled upward, pressing soft, deliberate kisses along her leg. His hand slid higher, gripping her thigh just enough to make her breath catch, as his mouth moved slowly, achingly slowly, up the inside of her calf.

"You make it impossible to focus on anything else," he whispered against her skin, his breath warm as he kissed higher still, his lips now nearing her knee. "When you sit in my class, all I can think about… is this."

She felt her pulse quicken, her body responding to every word, every kiss. Her skin tingled where his lips touched, each caress leaving her more breathless than the last. The intimacy of the moment—the slowness, the tenderness—was almost overwhelming, the way he was worshipping her with his mouth and hands.

Her hand, which had been resting on the desk, slid down to his shoulder, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as she watched him, unable to look away. He was taking his time, drawing out the moment, making every second feel like it was teetering on the edge of something deeper, something reckless.

Charles kissed the inside of her knee, then paused, his lips hovering over her skin as he looked up at her. His eyes were dark, filled with a kind of raw hunger that made her shiver.

"But you need to understand something," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper now. "Once we go further, there's no going back."

He kissed higher, just above her knee, his hand still gripping her thigh gently. The sensation sent waves of heat through her, her body practically buzzing under his touch.

"Do you want that?" His voice was rough, but the question was deliberate. He needed to hear it, needed to know.

She swallowed, her heart pounding as her fingers tightened their grip on his shoulder. For a brief moment, she hesitated, the weight of the situation hanging heavily between them. But then her eyes met his, and all the hesitation melted away, replaced by the undeniable pull that had been simmering between them for weeks.

This was what she wanted.

Instead of answering with words, she leaned down, closing the space between them again, her fingers sliding up the back of his neck, into his hair. She pulled him to her, their lips crashing together in a kiss that left no room for doubt.

His fingers dug into her thighs and the warmth of her mouth against his was overwhelming. This moment in his office felt existential, as if infinity was laid before him so he could experience everything life had to offer him in the form of her body. Charles didn’t know if he was getting ahead of himself, or maybe he was just a hopeless romantic, but this felt like more than lust. More than hormones and lingering glances. More than just a one time thing. 

She was so soft yet every touch was electric, making each of his nerves vibrate in anticipation as he slowly pushed out each of her knees. A light gasp escaped her mouth, the hot breath invading his senses and he couldn’t help the way his lips tugged up at the sides. Pulling away from her mouth was one of the most difficult things he had ever done given the way her lips were swollen and glistening, her eyes fluttering in a daze. 

He kept eye contact with her as he leaned down, slowly kissing up between her thighs, his mouth open and leaving a wet trail that made goosebumps erupt up her skin. She was trembling against him, sensitive and anxious and he nearly laughed if it wasn’t for the slight look of concern that furrowed her brows. Charles left one last kiss at the apex of her thigh before stopping. 

“What’s wrong, mon ange?”

She swallowed thickly, her pupils blown wide and eyes glowing in the darkness. “Nothing, it’s just,” she took a deep breath, blushing slightly in what was clearly embarrassment. “No one has ever really done this before.”

Charles tilted his head to the side, not quite sure what she was getting at. “You’ve never…had sex before?” If she hadn’t, that was fine. Everyone’s life moved in different stages but he needed to know how careful-

“What? No, no.” She covered her face with her hands and let out a nervous laugh. 

Charles began to rub soothing circles into her legs, wanting her to be as comfortable as possible when she was with him. He wanted her to give him everything, and he’d give her his soul in return if she’d take it. 

“Hey,” he gently grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands down, kissing the backs of both as he looked at her. “Tell me what's going on.”

She sighed, biting at the inside of her cheek as she debated. A few moments later the words spilled out. 

“No one has ever gone down on me before.”

Charles blinked at her as if someone had just slapped him. Not being able to wrap his mind around how not one of her past flings ever offered. Or maybe none of them were good enough for her to want them to. He went to open his mouth to say something but she kept going.

“You don’t have to.”

This time, it was Charles’ brows that furrowed in concern. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just that I— don’t worry about it.”

“Logan has never done it, has he?” Her boyfriend's name was sharp in the quiet room, an uncomfortable reminder of how wrong this really was. 

She didn’t say anything and Charles squeezed her hands. “Has he even offered?” She looked away from him, biting at her lip before eventually shaking her head.

“No, he hasn’t.”

Charles let out a long sigh as he watched her with such strong intent it made her shift slightly where she was sitting, her cheeks turning an even deeper shade of red if possible. 

His hands let go of hers, falling to her thighs as he slowly trailed them upwards, fingers disappearing under the hem of her skirt and he watched as her breath hitched. Charles continued to watch her as his hands explored further, pushing her skirt up around her waist and a barely audible prayer left him as his eyes caught sight of the white cotton panties she was wearing. She was wet, that much was obvious from the damp spot that could be seen and he felt as if the world had stopped moving just for the pair of them, the universe giving them a small moment of infinity. 

He leaned forward, kissing her navel and his hot breath danced over her covered pussy and she trembled against him, fingers digging into his shoulders. “Sir,” her voice wavered, thick with anticipation and lust. 

Charles' eyes flicked up to hers, his mouth hovering over where he knew she needed him most. “Please, mon ange. Let me do this for you.” He sounded desperate, and by god he was. She was the air that he breathed and he needed her permission to do this or he thought he might drop dead by tomorrow. Driven mad by all the what if’s and the way his name might sound when she moaned it. 

She stared at him for a tense moment before nodding once.

He didn’t hesitate as he lowered his mouth right over her clothed clit, rubbing circles into it with his tongue and her hips bucked up into his face as a surprised shout left her. One hand dug into his hair while the other slapped itself over her mouth. 

Charles worked her with his mouth with the fervour of a man who had just had his first taste of salvation. Desperate to chase more and reach heaven, the sounds leaving her throat despite how hard she was trying to keep quiet were a twisted form of a holy prayer. Blessing him over and over again.

Her hands were twined in his hair, tugging in a way that made the pain deliriously pleasurable as she yanked him closer. 

“Please,” she panted, not sounding quite like herself but the slight rasp to her voice could be equated to a siren leading him to his downfall. Perhaps she was. “Please, sir.”

As much as he adored the term, the sick satisfaction of it and how wrong it was, he wanted to hear something else fall from her pretty lips. 

“Say my name, ma chéri. Then ask me again.” He pressed a kiss to her clit and gasped sharply.

“Charles, please.” She pulled on his hair so his eyes could meet her’s, and there was a glimmer of determination mixed in with the storm of lust. “Give me everything.”

“Everything?”

“I want it all.”

He wasn’t sure what came over him, perhaps it was something primal, something that he hasn’t even dared to explore, but his hand wound itself around the strap of her underwear at her hip and yanked until the sound of fabric ripping echoed in the room. His mind was consumed by her, the feeling of her skin and what she would taste like with no barriers left. The line they had crossed was forgotten and blurred in the distance. Irrelevant.

He placed a hand beneath each of her knees and lifted, spreading her wide for him and he was sure he would come undone right there and then. Charles was already painfully hard and just looking at how wet she was for him was enough to make him come. But he needed this to last and he would kill himself if she didn’t enjoy every moment of this night together. 

His eyes flicked up and held hers as he pressed the flat of his tongue at the bottom of her entrance, licking a long stripe up before closing his mouth over her clit. Revelling in the way her eyes rolled into the back of her head and his name tumbled out of her mouth like it was a mantra that would lead to salvation. 

Her nails dug into his scalp, any self restraint she had long forgotten as she moaned and pushed her hips closed to his mouth. Slipping into delirium as his tongue circled her clit in tight circles. A scream nearly tearing through her as two of his thick fingers sunk into her cunt with no warning, the even thrusts of them had her panting.

Charles felt like headed. Hoping to any higher power that this was real and his mind wasn’t playing cruel tricks on him. She tasted devine and she was constantly clenching on his fingers, begging for more. Begging for a release. 

He was so hard it was painful, one of his hands sneaking down to give his cock a hard squeeze. Anything for some relief. Charles wasn’t helping his own case as he inserted a third finger, crooking them up and hitting that spot that made her scream his name as she came against him, liquid and cum spilling out and he wasn’t letting a drop get wasted as he continued to eat her out. Lowering his mouth to her entrance and his fingers trailed up to her clit, not letting up and she convulsed in over stimulation.

“Charles, oh my god!” Her legs tried to snap themselves shut but he didn’t let up. He felt crazed and she let out a guttural sound as she came again. 

He finally pulled back, a delirious grin on his face and his chin shining from the aftermath as he watched her fall back on her elbows trying to catch her breath. 

“That was… oh my god.”

Charles stood and began to unbutton his shirt. “I’m nowhere near done with you yet, darling.” Her breath caught as her eyes followed the movements of his hands. Watching in what seemed like admiration as he shrugged his shirt off and let it fall to the floor. She seemed more entranced with his hands when he began to undo his belt however, her attention apt as Charles slowly pulled it free from the loops and undid his zipper. 

When he finally rid himself of his trousers and the cool air from the office hit his cock he shivered, the tip was leaking and clearly desperate for release. Charles stepped closer to her, closing the distance and he slowly pushed her onto her back, not caring about the stacks of paper that fell to the floor. 

Leaning down, his breath danced across her neck and he smirked into her skin as she shuddered against him. “Mon amour,” his voice was low, gravely. Not quite familiar. “I am going to ruin you for anyone else.”

He entered her completely within a breath, the action brutal and unforgiving but with the way she moaned and clenched around him, he knew she loved it. Charles kissed her neck before straightening, grabbing hold of her hips and pulling back, watching in sick satisfaction as his cock slammed back into her. 

She was moaning his name with no care in the world, her screams mixed with the lewd sounds of skin slapping against each other. She was everything to him. She was all he could think about. All he could feel. His existence was in her hands now and he’d never be able to get enough of her. Not until the day he dropped dead and even then he would long for her from the grave. 

The sharp sound of a phone ringing felt like a tuning fork struck right against the ears drums. Charles didn’t stop, though. She didn’t even seem like she noticed, her head still thrown back and mouth agape as he continued his relentless pace. 

His eyes strayed to the lit up screen.

Logan.

His contact picture glowing up at him, the American smiling brightly with his arm draped over your shoulder. 

Charles shouldn’t have done it, but he didn’t regret it either as he hit the answer icon and tossed the phone to the side. 

“Fuck, Charles I’m going to come.“

“Let it out, mon amour. Give me all of you.” His hand snaked down between their bodies, rubbing tight circles into her clit and he watched in pure adoration as she came on his cock. Charles followed not a moment later, her name echoing around the room followed by their heavy breaths as he collapsed on top of her. 

The air in the room was thick, their ragged breaths the only sound breaking the silence. She lay sprawled on the desk, still catching her breath, her chest rising and falling heavily. Her hand slipped from Charles’ shoulder as he rolled off her, his own breathing just as uneven. The remnants of their reckless act were scattered around them—clothes on the floor, papers thrown askew in the heat of the moment.

For a split second, everything was still.

Then, the door creaked open.

Both of them froze, eyes darting toward the door, panic seizing her heart like ice.

There, standing in the doorway, was Logan. His eyes, wide with shock, scanned the scene—the two of them barely dressed, her legs still exposed from where her skirt had been pushed up, Charles’ shirt hanging open, his tie askew. The mess on the floor, the heavy air, the undeniable truth.

Logan’s face shifted from shock to something worse—a mixture of hurt, disbelief, and fury.

“Wow.” It was the only word he could muster, low and bitter, dripping with betrayal.

Her breath caught in her throat, panic surging through her body. She scrambled off the desk, her heart hammering so hard it felt like it might burst through her chest. “Wait—please, I can explain—”

But he was already turning, shaking his head in disbelief as he backed out of the room, his face contorted in pain.

“No, don’t—wait!” she cried, desperately grabbing her blouse from the floor, pulling it on hastily as she stumbled after him. Her hands were shaking, her mind racing, trying to figure out how to fix what couldn’t be fixed.

Logan didn’t stop. He walked out of the door, his pace quickening as he stormed down the hallway. The echo of his footsteps sounded deafening in the otherwise silent building.

“Please! Just let me explain!” she called after him, her voice cracking, but it was as if he couldn’t even hear her.

She was halfway down the hall when she caught up to him, grabbing his arm and turning him toward her. “Please, let me explain. It’s not—”

“Not what?” he snapped, his voice sharp, full of anger and pain. He yanked his arm out of her grip, his eyes cold as they locked onto hers. “Not what it looks like? You think I’m stupid? I saw everything. I heard and now walked in and saw you—” He stopped, shaking his head like he couldn’t even finish the sentence, like it was too painful to put into words.

She swallowed, her throat dry, her chest tight with guilt. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean for it to happen like this, I—”

“You didn’t mean for it to happen?” he repeated, his voice rising. “You didn’t mean for what to happen? You didn’t mean to fuck him behind my back? Or did you just not mean for me to find out?”

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, her chest tightening painfully. She didn’t know what to say. There were no words to make this better. No explanation that could undo what had just happened.

“And what, he’s a better man than me?” Logan asked suddenly, his voice quieter now but filled with a kind of desperation she hadn’t heard from him before.

She froze. The question hit her like a punch to the gut. 

“I—” Her voice faltered. She didn’t know how to answer.

Her hesitation was all he needed. He let out a bitter, humourless laugh, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

Logan turned to leave again, his movements stiff, his jaw clenched tightly.

“Please,” she begged, her voice breaking. “Don’t walk away. I didn’t—”

But he was already gone, his footsteps echoing down the hallway until the sound faded into silence.

She stood frozen in the hallway, her heart still pounding, her breath shallow and uneven as Logan’s figure disappeared down the dim corridor. It was as though she had been cast out—left stranded in the wake of her own betrayal. Her mind screamed to run after him, to beg for forgiveness, to undo the irreversible, but her feet stayed rooted to the ground.

With trembling hands, she turned back toward the office door. The room she had once thought of as a sanctuary now felt like something else entirely—an altar, a place of confession, a place where she had surrendered too much.

When she pushed the door open, the heavy silence greeted her, thick as sin. Charles sat behind his desk, utterly unbothered by what had just transpired. He reclined in his chair, his shirt still undone, a cigarette lazily burning between his fingers. The soft tendrils of smoke curled upward, like incense rising from a ritual long completed.

She stepped inside, closing the door behind her, the weight of it slamming shut like the gates of something holy—something she was now forever barred from.

Charles watched her through the haze of smoke, his eyes sharp, reflective. His mouth curved into the faintest hint of a smile, as if all of this was inevitable—as if the fall had been predestined. He took a long drag of his cigarette and exhaled slowly, the smoke coiling in the air like the whisper of a prayer.

“You’re back,” he said quietly, his voice smooth, almost like a benediction.

She stood in the middle of the room, the guilt burning in her chest, her throat tight with everything she couldn’t say. The weight of her own sin felt unbearable now, but Charles’ eyes held her captive, calm and untroubled, as if nothing sacred had been broken.

“I ruined everything,” she whispered, her voice fragile and cracked, like glass about to shatter.

His gaze stayed steady on her. “No,” he said simply, his voice low, like a confession offered in the stillness of a church. “You didn’t.”

She blinked, confusion crossing her face. How could he say that? How could he be so certain when everything felt so wrong? Her world had crumbled. The altar of her relationship, her conscience—it was all in ruins.

Charles extinguished his cigarette in the ashtray, his movements slow, deliberate. He stood up from his chair and walked around the desk with the grace of someone who had already seen the ending, who knew the story was written long before they’d ever acted it out.

When he reached her, he tilted his head slightly, his eyes tracing her face like he was reading her soul.

“He’s out of the picture now,” he said softly, almost reverently.

Her breath caught. The way he said it, like this was some divine plan, made her chest tighten. “I didn’t want this,” she whispered, the lie trembling on her lips, tainted with uncertainty.

Charles’ smile widened, though there was something dark in his gaze. He reached out, brushing a thumb against her cheek, his touch tender but loaded with something more—something dangerous, something tempting. “Didn’t you?”

The words hung between them, heavy with the weight of her unspoken desires. He stepped closer, the space between them narrowing as though they were locked in some secret prayer, a communion that only they could share.

“You wanted this,” he whispered, his voice low, like a psalm of temptation. “You wanted me.”

Her breath hitched, her pulse racing as the truth stirred within her. She had tried to deny it, tried to resist, but standing there, under his gaze, she felt stripped bare—her defences falling like the last walls of a crumbling cathedral. He saw her, truly saw her, and it was terrifying how deeply he knew her desires, how easily he could pull her into them.

She shook her head weakly, as though she could shake off the truth, but the words faltered. The pull was too strong. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she said, her voice wavering like a confession whispered in the darkness of a confessional.

Charles’ eyes darkened as he leaned in, his breath warm against her ear, his voice a hushed, dangerous promise. “You’re free now,” he murmured, as though he were offering her salvation.

The weight of that word—free—hung in the air, almost sacrilegious. Freedom wasn’t supposed to feel like this. It wasn’t supposed to feel like falling.

He stepped even closer, his hand finding its way to the small of her back, pulling her against him in one fluid motion. She felt her knees weaken, the space between them vanishing as his lips hovered just above hers, his breath a ghost of temptation on her skin.

“No more pretending,” he whispered, the words slipping between them like a vow.

She felt the heat of his gaze burning through her, igniting something reckless, something she couldn’t control. And in that moment, she realised there was no turning back. The fall had already begun.

Charles’ hand trailed down her arm, his touch soft but insistent. He was pulling her in, and she was letting him. She wasn’t running. Not anymore.

And when their lips met, it was more than a kiss—it was an offering, a surrender. His lips moved against hers slowly, deliberately, as if savouring the taste of her guilt, of her desire, as though it was all part of some twisted prayer they were both too willing to say.

But the peace that should have followed never came. Instead, it left her breathless, hollow.

She broke away, her mind spinning, her body trembling with the force of it all. “But he…Logan” The words were a last, desperate plea for redemption, but even she could hear how weak they sounded.

Charles didn’t hesitate. His grip on her tightened, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, “He’s gone now. It’s just us.”

There was something almost triumphant in his voice, something darkly satisfied, as though he’d been waiting for this all along. He pulled back slightly, looking into her eyes, his expression unreadable, save for the gleam of possession in his gaze.

“You’re mine now,” he whispered, his voice like a prayer. “And I don’t intend to share.”

the end.

comment if you'd like to be tagged in my works

[moonieandi]

snapshots pt. 5 | stanley pines x f!reader 

summary: the second year of your life “married” to stanley pines, particularly concerning traditions 

warnings (TW): swearing, gambling, illegal activities, illusions of past abuse 

tags: fluff, affection, mutual-pining

notes: canonically no one knows anything about shermie really, which would be hilarious if I didn’t have to write about it \\ also i feel like there not too much fluff in this (could be really fucking wrong lol) but the next part i have drafted is sickingly sweet so just give me some time 

Also (again) i’ll begin linking a legit masterlist below with all the parts! I thought of renaming each era but the naming part of things is where im legit the leassst creative for some reason? maybe later idk? but anyway! so much love from everyone! thank you so much! you don’t know how much i appreciate the love and the comments, thats why i continue writing this ahhhhhhh! thank you!!!

word count: 4.4k 

| masterlist | part vi |

March, 1984 

It had taken her several months to come to terms with what had to be done for the sake of their identities. 

He had been more open with her concerning his past in that one two-hour conversation than he had in the past year in its entirety. Something that would shake a normal woman, but she had become so oddly attached to her new partner she almost didn’t care about the picture he painted of what he used to be - something he insisted he still was. Bad. He had said to her that night. That he wasn’t any good. 

The painting only flooded with more color, in those following months after said heart-to-heart. His conversation with his mother spoke of it. It also spoke of a man who truly honestly couldn’t be the picture he had painted. 

It’s something they had both tiptoed around, conversations of their parentage. Of course, because of Ford, she knew that they grew up in the typical American nuclear family home, with a mother who lingered in doorways and a father who raised his hands as frequently as his voice. But she didn’t know how intertwined Stanley had been with his mother in particular. 

Which was hard, considering he was now legally dead. 

That first frantic conversation they had had over the phone had shaken him, had him reconsidering. But watching Doc’ wait in anticipation and disbelief in the next room over quickly made him change his mind. It was so they would be safe, he reasoned. 

His mother had called believing she was calling Ford after she received the shattering news that her baby boy was presumed to be dead. Baby being used here loosely, seeing as Ford was only truly older by a mere fifteen minutes. 

His mother hadn’t been shocked Ford hadn’t contacted her in that past year, something he had shook off every time he passed the landline. He thought to call her. But she was quite hung up on not having heard from Stanley that past year, insisting in her ways that surely he would have called, her free-spirited boy was always much more inclined to call her, something she had never blamed Stanford for of course. Just a flippant difference between her two boys. One called and the other lingered in doorways, like her. 

Stanley had reasoned with her over the landline. Insisting that he, unfortunately, would not be able to make it to his own brother's funeral, something she had tisked at, raising her voice to who she assumed was Stanford. This is your brother! She had insisted. You loved your brother, don’t say you didn’t. Everyone makes mistakes, you need to forgive him now. 

It was not until after the event that she called again, telling him not to worry. That she had attended for him, but that his father was just as busy as him. Something unspoken between them, just as stubborn. She had meant to say. Just as ignorant. 

His mother spoke with him in a different tone over the phone, a difference in how she held cadence when she was talking to Stanford rather than Stanley, something he wondered if Poindexter ever noticed. 

His Doc’ knew the conversations drained an odd part of him, so she did her best to work around him when his mother did ring their landline. Something she did semi-frequently now that Stanley was officially dead. 

In the beginning, she had lingered in the next room, then drifted through doorways, and eventually made it until she sat at the kitchen table with him, playing with his fingers in hopes of baiting him away from the phone. If the conversation was shorter then surely he wouldn’t have to pretend to be someone he wasn’t for too long. 

She later realized this was a mistake, no matter how his impression of his brother gnawed at an odd part of her psyche. So she moved from him, doing dishes and cooking. But still oddly near him. 

It was easier to lean into domesticity when she played it so well around him, and it made the phone calls less nerve-wracking to take. Pretending his wife was doting on him, that his long-distance mother was calling to check in, and pretending he wasn’t a fraud and a failure. So he usually insisted on her presence. And he pretended that she played a role in it all and that his mother didn’t sound different over the phone. One big lie to make him breathe better. 

It’s after one of these phone calls that he slumps deep in his kitchen seat one day, and she turns from the dishes in the sink to ask what’s wrong. 

“We’re gonna have to tell her one day.” 

“What?” 

“That we’re married, doll.” He crossed his arms, a contemplative look overtaking him. The first time he’d said the word since that conversation in the car. “I don’t know how long until we have ta’, but I know we gotta.” 

“Okay.” She hums, hands still sudsy from the sink. “Is there any other family we may have to tell?” 

“My older brother, Shermie. But he’s in Cali not Jersey like my ma.” He hums. “Older than me, don’t know him as well. But he is closer.” 

“And will he be able to tell?” She asks. “That you’re not Stanford?” 

“Nah.” He sighs. “He’s got a wife though, and a kid from what I remember. A baby girl, probably about ten now.” 

“Oh my god, so you’re an uncle?” She laughs, a smile splitting her face once more. 

“Ya doll, have been since I was 18. Remember meeting her, but pretty soon after I hit the road.” 

He had been fond of her, from what he could remember. The baby girl had rarely left the crook of his doting mother’s arms, but when it came to be his turn to hold her he enjoyed the warmth and weight of her. And her gummy smile at his continued insistence. He still remembers her tiny hands, fisted around one of his fingers. She had been small, smaller than he had imagined babies could be. He bet she was still small, it felt hard to imagine her as more than a swaddle in the swell of his arms now. 

Silence breaks between them again. “Well for what it’s worth I think you’d be a great uncle, if you could have been closer to her that is.” She hums, moving back to the sink to wash some more dishes. Her hair curved around her soft face, beautiful in her usual careless way.

Maybe he would have been. 

June, 1984

They had started a tradition in their home. A young tradition, but she figured it still was one since they had promised to go about their day the same way as they had the previous year. Except this time they had thought to prepare. 

The town they resided in was odd for sure and had an affinity for the unexplained and perhaps more creepy pursuits. The town had a tradition of its own in which they held a Halloween event twice a year, Summerween they called it. 

Not that they had known of it their first year residing in the shack, but it was quite the surprise to open the door to trick-or-treaters in mid-June. The children had unknowingly interrupted Stan's attempt to teach her how to play poker. Unfortunately for the children, they didn’t have any candy on hand for them that year. Without anything to give them, the kids retaliated by tee-peeing their yard that same night. 

She had found it only slightly annoying, having to clean it up the next morning. But it quickly fell into amusement, watching Stan stomp and curse while pulling toilet paper from bushes and trees. He didn’t enjoy a prank that was not his own. And he wouldn’t be caught unaware the next year. 

Which was why they had wandered around town that last week, looking for supplies to decorate their porch and getting last-minute off-brand candy. She had scoffed at the shitty candy they had bought but figured it was more or less all they could afford. She had eyed up the bigger bags of nicer candy, chocolate had always been a weakness of hers. 

Stan had also bought what he called “Scary Stan” supplies. Silly string, odd meats, and fake blood found its way into their shopping cart. Along with supplies for caramel apples upon her insistence. 

They had made a night of it, decorating their porch with fake spider webs and the town's traditional carved watermelon jack-o-lanterns. She had gone ahead in making caramel apples also, bagging them up as she went for the children. Perhaps it would make up for the shitty candy. 

In keeping with tradition, Stan thought to continue their poker night as they had been doing the previous Summerween. So their night was spent in an identical fashion almost, with detailed explanations of correct poker etiquette from Stan with interrupted rushing to and from the door to give awaiting kids off-brand chocolate and homemade caramel apples. Except they sat across from each other in costume now. She had been amused when he had insisted on them being matching, he had flushed in embarrassment in the store that week, pleading his case after his initial insistence. Like it was only natural that they would match. She barely fought it, something odd aching in her chest at his rather sweet insistence.

“Come on! It’s a good idea!” 

“What are we Stan, twelve?” 

“No, we're married. Just as embarrassing.” He had said flippantly, his ears red in a flush as he shoved two capes into the shopping cart along with everything else. 

Which is how they ended up here tonight, sitting across from each other in the dim kitchen light, both dressed as a gaudy vampire couple while Stan explained for the fourth time the probability of getting a royal flush. Her feet propped up on his lap, like always. He had bent down to grab them, folding them into the curve of him. 

He had tried not to stare too long when she came down the stairs earlier, her matching velvet red cape and shitty plastic vampire teeth sat oddly in her mouth. But it was one of the first times she had done her makeup like that, all dark and creased around her enchanting eyes. And the first time he had ever seen that black shirt, which had a surprisingly low cut. All the more distracting. 

This is why he was stumbling through explaining what a royal flush was for the fourth time, and probably why she was looking all confused at him like that also. 

“Okay doll, let’s run through this a couple of times, then we’ll put in some real steaks here.” 

“Stan we are dead broke we are not gambling money tonight. You’d rob me blind!” 

“Shush!” He insisted, smiling across from her. “Just a couple rounds, I’ll show you some good hands and we’ll go from there, okay?” 

They were interrupted interspersedly from time to time during their practice rounds, Stan usually being the one to race out to the porch first, in hopes of scaring whatever little kid dared knock on their porch door. 

Of course, if the child was too young he’d call for her. She had put up a fight with him about scaring kids that were younger than ten tonight. Which he had been glum about until he watched her with them. 

She’d gush at the doorway, complimenting costumes and handing out her caramel apples she had slaved away over. She had this certain smile too, and silently in the back of his mind he thanked any little kid who knocked on their door that night because she looked particularly enchanting when she was kneeling down talking to them. Like she was always meant to be doing that. 

Anyone over ten was free for the taking though, and he took particular pride in scaring any poor sap who was old enough in her eyes. The fake blood in particular came in handy, and she would laugh when he’d routinely come back from the porch door slathered in it. She silently thanked those kids tonight, because he seemed to be particularly enchanting when he laughed like that. Like he was always meant to be this carefree. 

The poker games practice rounds were over though. And he had a particular surprise just for her. 

“Ta-Da!” He said, while pulling out a bag of candy from the very top cabinet she could never reach in the kitchen. 

“Oh my god, is that chocolate!” She gasped again, reaching for the bag. “Name-brand chocolate! Awe, you shouldn’t have Stan.” She encased it in her arms, hugging it like a stuffy. It was the bag she had been eyeing up in the grocery store not even a week ago.

“Ah-ah!” He moved to grab the bag back. “This is what we are betting with tonight, doll.” Candy back in his hands, he moved back to his seat. Opening the bag to evenly disperse the individually wrapped candy between the two of them. 

“How’d you even get that bag, Stan, we can barely afford everything else we bought.” 

“You don’t wanna know, hun.” He said, shuffling her candy pile in front of her. Okay, so he had stolen it, so what? He hadn’t called her “hun” in a while though. Distracting. 

He almost never called her that sickeningly sweet name now, something she thought about far too often for her good. She missed that term of endearment in particular for some reason. But perhaps Stan found it to be too domestic, too personal for what both resided between them now. Perhaps it reminded him of her mistake, of her tying herself to him for the foreseeable future. Her heart did something odd though, when he would call her that. She usually made note of it when he did call her “hun” now. Because it was so rare to hear it, and she hesitated to ask why. It would slip out of him in odd moments, moments he would catch himself unaware and relaxed around her. But it always made him flush now, too. 

The game followed similarly, his flushing smirk distracting her from her hand on more than one occasion. He was so charmingly confident when he was playing games, so competitive. She tried to shake it off, the way he looked like this. She wanted to play with him, too. 

“You’re full of shit doll.” 

“No!” She gasps, suddenly a good actress. “My hand is just that good bucko! I raised it by too cluster bars, are you gonna meet or fold sir?” She hummed, smiling at him over her hand of cards. 

This was probably the only time she was damn good at lying, he conceded. She liked to play it up, waving her hands and laughing everything off. She was pretty good at playing off a hand that had absolutely nothing in it. But he had memorized her tell long ago, memorized her face just the same. She looked the same every night, teasing him across this kitchen table over dinner. Her brow upturned just a little, her cheeks flushed. That was the look, her look. She had nothing in her hand. 

But he was wiping the floor with her. 

He hums, hand over his lips. “I guess I fold then.” He sets his cards down, pushing his stack of candy back towards her.  

“Yes!” She jumps up, reaching across to swipe his candy into her pile. An elated smile on her face as she dances in her seat. The kitchen light making shadows on her face, the sun having finally gone down to alleviate some of the June heat. She stops mid-dance, a realization blooming over her face. “Wait a minute.” 

“Hmmmm?” He says, munching on one of his candies. 

“I know for a fact you can count cards, Stan!” Her finger pointed accusingly at her. “That’s why they won’t let you back in Nashville. You should legitimately win every round, and I know that for a fact!” 

He leans back in his kitchen chair, laughing in his low gravelly voice. “Perhaps?” He questions, hands held up in guilt. 

“Gahh!” She yells, reaching across the table and the stacks of candy to throw a fist at his shoulder. “I’ll get you for real one day.” 

“You’re smart hun, I know you will.” That flush across his face. 

“You’re smart too though.” She says, stating what she knows to be true. He is smart, he proves it to her every day. He just would never actually take the compliment, something he figured was a lie. He’d never been called smart in his life before her. He’d let her lie about this one thing though. His head hung off the back of his chair. His Doc’ was a terrible liar, though. 

“Nah!” He says flippantly, hand waving away her truth. “Let’s watch a movie!” Jumping from his seat, scooping up her pile and his pile of chocolates, and racing to the T.V. They’d play again the next year, and he’d let her win again in hopes it would make her just as happy as she just was. And maybe then she’d believed she’d won and he’d believe he was smart enough to be out-witted by the likes of her. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” She inquires, head popping back into the living room. 

“No no, come here!” Waving her in, so she can plop down next to him on the floor. Candy piled high in between the both of them. A mischievous grin sneaks up on his face, hand already reaching for the movie she’d hate. She was terrified of zombies, for some reason. Something he takes advantage of routinely. Anything to have her curled up next to him, her heat seeping into his side as his hand made a home on the back of her neck. Like usual, like always. Something that still made him feel sickly sweet, her flippant affection for him. It must be nothing for her, to be this close to him.

“Scary movie?” 

She nods, mouth full of chocolate and shirt dangerously low. Her cape piled around her, and her eyes dark as she grins at him. Distracting. 

October, 1984

They had hit a metaphorical dead end when it came to the portal. Something they both feared voicing between the two of them. 

It was hard, almost impossible, to reverse engineer the plans drawn out in the one journal they had on hand. She knew there had to be two more out there, hidden in the woods. A homage to the three corners of the portal that she stared at day in and out. Stanford was like that in a way, flippantly sentimental about the oddest thing. 

Her old friend more than likely buried the other two journals somewhere on the property. Unfortunately for them both they did not know where the property line began and ended, but she more or less figured it was a lot of land to cover. Stan had backed up this claim, explaining to her that first night that Stanford had wanted him to take this first journal, take it with him to the ends of the earth. In hopes that the portal his brother had created couldn’t be replicated. Something they had both dared to do now and something they did not discuss in great lengths either. 

He had put them away in his haste, she figured. He was never one to half-ass anything really, but with the way Stan had described his brother that night he disappeared into the portal, she figured he was not necessarily himself. Not himself, actually at all. She had contemplated it a lot, the fear of otherworldly possession. But had a hard time believing Stanford would let anything into something as sacred as he believed his mind to be. He didn’t even let her up there. 

But the way he described his odd relationship with an entity that happened to be a shape was… distracting. It constantly had her flipping back and forth in the journal, looking for clues as to what Ford was doing in relation to an otherworldly being. He couldn’t help his own curiosity she figured, something she had never blamed him for except for now. Something she cursed him for, now. 

So they had both agreed to move in silence when it came to passing into the tree line of the property. She had more than hinted at their need for caution in communicating with whatever the hell Ford had previously encountered. Stan and Ford both considered themselves adventurers in their own right, which would be admirable if one of them wasn't missing from their current plane of existence. 

They had headed out together one October day, bundled up, and hoping to find signs of Ford on their property line. Hoping to find one of the journals, and nothing else. 

His red coat with a new patch was swung over his shoulders, as she had whined in the doorway that morning. She much preferred his things to her own nowadays. Much preferred to be swallowed by his shirts and jackets, not that he would ever comment. There was just more warmth to his things than her own now, and she preferred the imprint he left on the couch to her own in these colder months. Stealing his spot when he would up and leave for a new drink, laughing when he would come back to claim it. Stealing that imprint of him was her only joy, because it made him laugh and flush differently when she got close now. The closest he had allowed in months, the imprints and loose shirts he’d leave behind. Made something behind her chest ache thinking about it.

Felt slightly disjointed in their trek through the forest now, the thought of the unknown just beyond them both. And no warmth of his jacket to cool the part of her that achingly worried for him now.

But of course, they both had weighed the probability of them encountering some creatures that Ford had sighted in his journal, but she feared encountering something that was not listed in the specific one they had in their possession. Something out in the borders of their home, that they had no knowledge of. 

He was swearing with every step through the underbrush ahead of her, his hand held behind him in case she would need it when trekking through the uneven forest floor. His head held down as he stomped a path into the fallen leaves for her. Her head held up, looking for signs of their long-gone friend somewhere between the trees. 

“Fuck!” She swears, tripping over fallen branches. He reaches back, catching her with the length of his outstretched arm. The first time he had reached for her since he bent to fold her legs across his lap this morning. He felt far away. He was flushed though, worked up with the long trek they both had made. Some odd miles between them and their home now. 

He grunts, lifting her back to her feet with ease. Moving to wipe dead leaves and twigs from her hiking pants unconsciously.

“Should we map this out doll?” 

“Mhm.” She nods, as he reaches back into their shared backpack he had been carrying. Taking out a property map and a compass. He had thought to bring the map, commenting on how they could mark down when they would see odd things throughout the forest, and so they could track where they had already been. She had thought to bring the compass, simply to find their way home. 

She looks down at the unfolded map now held up in his hands, stepping to bend down under his arm, residing in front of his expansive chest and between his outstretched arms. He was warm, she noted, a part of her cooling. 

“Sooooo… I think I saw something around here.” She moved her pencil up, marking along their predetermined path where she thought she had seen tree carvings. She took a step back, running into his chest. Trying to get closer to him, before he would inevitably leave. “I believe we are about 1.5 to 2 miles out from the shack?” She questions, tilting her head back to look at him. 

He grunts, flushed by her proximity. Her back to his chest, he noted how warm she was when she was this close. Her eyes shining up at him in question. She shouldn’t be this close. 

“Mmm, feels like we’ve been walkin’ longer than that.” 

“You may be right.” She hums, her pencil held in her mouth now. “Should we retrace our steps? Get a better estimate? And look at that carving I saw?” 

“Whatever you say, boss.” He grunts, trying to move his eyes away from her. 

“Alright!” She steps back from him, suddenly cold. Ducking beneath his arm and stepping away from him as he begins to fold back up the map. She’d savor whatever he allowed. “Then we’ll be home in time for lunch.” She comments. 

“Can we have those fancy deli sammiches?” 

“Mmmm, sounds good to me.” She shrugs, letting him lead the way back to their home. Trying to find oddities in the tree line, but getting distracted by his shoulders the entirety of the way home. Missing that imprint of him along her back already.

[liveontelevision]

Okay, this started as a rant about Lucifer lore and turned into an argumentative essay on why Lucifer is a bottom. My b.

18+ Smut ahead, lots of angst

•••

Here's the thing about Lucifer. He was an awesome dreamer, fell in love with Lillith, and was banished to Hell. Literally forced to see what the gift of good will can do at its worse. Unless he's made some personal contact with a sinner to get like updates about what the gift of good will did right, he had to be stuck in a depression for centuries, at least until Charlie was born. And while that would've definitely given him a new passion, he'll never feel confident in dreaming again.

With how much he dislikes sinners and what they represent, i wonder if there had to be some strain on their relationship when it came to Lillith taking control? They never really talk about if they had a fallout or if she just disappeared, but i dont think they really got divorced either.

When Lucifer looks at that family picture and winces, does he feel bad about not contacting charlie? About something he did to make lillith leave? Or maybe he feels bad about being upset at lillith for leaving in the first place? There's so much to umpack there i live for the lore.

Love Interests:

But when that comes to potential love interests in the future, Lucifer hasnt had to court anyone before like ever. Not in the circumstances that they live in a big city like Hell. So when he finally ends up catching feelings, he has no idea. People around the hotel literally need to pick up on context clues for him and have an intervention to tell him he's in love again.

Even if he hasnt seen lillith in 7 years, their relationship had to be a drastic change compared to new love. I think that his love interest would also pick it up before he does, and you would let him work at his own pace. Fuck, it is so important that he goes through this process at his own pace.

With so much strain on his past relationships with loved ones, he fully gaslights himself into thinking he doesnt deserves and isnt allowed to feel affection anymore. I hate making characters i love suffer. But i feel like in his state of mind he'd go through depressive episodes and panic attacks, maybe some night terrors. Theyed be about his past and his subconscious would essentially tell him he has feelings again, and he shouldn't act them in case he scares you away and abandons you, like heaven. Or drives you away like lillith. Or purposely blocks you out like charlie. Mans is struggling i swear. He needs some comfort.

After finally coming to terms, hes a nervous wreck about every decision he makes. He'll constantly stare in the mirror in the mornings, making sure he looks his best, would plan mental scripts before even having a conversation with you, and would become a bumbling mess just trying to make jokes out of the situation, some base level actions, like how we saw in the show. He'll manage to finally ask you out, but all he really knows how to do is profess an undying love (i feel like his confession to lillith was hella dramatic) so it was a little awkward, but still cute. And of course you said yes.

So let's say its been 5+ years since he moved into the hotel, met you and finally managed to confess his feelings. When it comes to the actual relationship? You give him reassurance and support him through his mental episodes, and laugh at his jokes and praise him for everything he does. He has such intense imposture syndrome though, that even other demons have to reassure that theres no way you dont love him with all your being. Because it is literally obvious to everyone but him.

He's pretty good at doing the romantic fluff stuff in public, he loves to make a big show out of treating you like royalty and even trying to embarrass you when you become close enough. He's always more charasmatic in public, it seems easier than doing that alone.

Not in a negative way, but Lucifer is so never to be alone with you. You take the lead a bit more in those scenarios, suggesting ideas like movies or just coming up with small talk yourself. He needs someone who'll be patient with him. Being alive for millions of years AND being left or shamed by all your loved ones during that time is literally the definition of Truama.

Of course he's been bottling all that shit up, he has no one to confide with. There's no one who's been alive and witnessed it all the way he has. So bless you for loving and caring for him even without understanding all hes been through.

You'll have some rough patches, where this emotional side locks him away from you and everyone else. It might be a few days before you see him. He'll lock himself in his office, pumping out ducks by the dozen just to keep himself from sleeping, because he's scared he'll have night terrors if he feels asleep. He's in a constant loop;

"what if i fucked up?"

"what if i try to talk about it and then they realize how bad i fucked up?"

"what if that's enough of a reason for them to leave me?"

"what if i scare them away?"

"what if that fucks this up?"

"what if i fucked up.. Again..?"

After he leaves his office, youre excited to see him out and about, but you cant make a big deal out of it. You have to speak to him calmly, make sure he's physically okay before talking to him about his thought process. It might take awhile, but he'll eventually trust you enough to open up. And of course it'll never be bad enough for you to leave him, he's just struggling.

Physical Contact:

It takes him an even longer time to become physical with you. He hasnt been intimate for over a decade at this point, but as soon as he becomes comfortable with little affections like hand holding, cuddling, wrapping his arms around your waist, and kissing? Hoo boy, he melts after your first kiss. It couldve been even a small peck and he would still become a nervous wreck just trying to ask for more.

He'll ask for physical touch more than provide it at first. You'll give him a quick kiss and he'll look up at you super eager just like, "another?" He'll grow into tastful pda's, linking arms, quick hugs and smooches, holding hands all that.

He becomes putty in your hand when you're alone though. You'll nudge him to lean against your shoulder or even lay his head in your lap while youre lounging or watching movies. He becomes so relaxed in your presence, that you'll want to suddenly peck him just to see his suddenly flustered reaction.

You'd give him massages that he would always be hesistant over. He was always a little nervous that he wasnt giving enough to you, but you were quick to assure him that wasnt the case. You'd straddle his hips while giving him a slowww massage. It starts with light touches, tracing your fingers over his shoulder blades and spine. You'd trace your fingers over his chest when you would cuddle too, depending on the position. Or stroke his back sweetly. It was enough of a distraction to keep his mind occupied, away from any spiraling thoughts he might be having.

He purrs. Convince me that he doesnt purr. (You cant)

Being secluded for so long probably means that he doesnt fly as much as he used to. It was probably a passion of his, and he was especially delighted to share it with lillith and charlie.

So during those 7 years he barely flew, he also didnt take care of his wings. I feel like theyre something to be summoned, so they arent constantly tucked into his back. You'd basically scold him sometimes to just let you clean his wings.

You'd do it in like a spring-type bathhouse that Lucifer would have in his castle somehow. It was one of the first intimate moments he's experienced in years, so he was generally going insane. Feeling your hands and a little comb rake through the feathers on his giant wings? You'd have to tap his shoulder sometimes to keep him from falling asleep to the relaxation alone. After the first time, the water you used was pretty dirty and he had a lot of loose feathets that were combed out. Damn, he needed this.

Intimacy:

After awhile, you sit down and would have a discussion about being intimate in bed. Lucifer would be absolutely nervous about overstepping by asking this, (even though you've been together for about a year at this point). He would use his mental scripts and basically practice what he wanted to say.

It would mainly be him saying he wants to do this because he loves you and youve done so much for him that he wants to give back to you in this way. It would consist of him saying its okay if you dont want to, or if you ever want to stop to just say so. But of course you want to, how could you not?

It would start slow, he actually tries taking the lead in this specific situation. He would kiss you first, his lips trembling at the thought that this is actually happening. Feeling his nerves, you'd cup his face and stroke his cheeks with your thumbs lightly. That will help him ease up enough to start letting the passion take over more.

He'd become more confident in slipping his tongue into your mouth and placing his hands on your hips to pull you closer to him. Lucifer would get lost in the moment, pulling you to straddle his lap as he kissed and licked and bit his way across both your shoulders and down to the softeness of your breast. After leaning back to look at the damage his eyes would become increasingly wide, looking up at you with a flustered expression. Seeing you losing it as much as he was, gave him enough courage to keep up at it.

He would almost hesistantly take a hold of your breasts and would massage them softly, running his thumbs across your nipples and becoming absolutely delighted at the reaction you gave. The adrenaline from the pleasure would make you start grinding against his lap, which would make lucifer's hands on your hips pull away for a moment and make his breath stutter. Lucifer would look you up and down as if he didnt know what to do next, studying your body with darting eyes. You'd press a small kiss on his forehead before guiding his hands back onto your hips with yours, keeping your eyes on him the entire time.

"Are you okay, Luci?" He would gulp before nodding his head and turning ridiculously red across his face, maybe from the idea of what was to come, maybe just from your voice alone. You'd keep your hands ontop of his at your hips as you'd keep moving, letting out breathy moans. He would be holding his breath without realizing, an absolute nervous wreck just from the view.

He would already be hard just from the previous make out session, so this would cause him to lean his back against the bed, his strength giving out. You'd keep up at it, feeling his hips jolt up to meet yours at times.

He was a sweaty, twitching mess in front of you and you hated to admit how much that excited you.

His scripted plan was immediately forgotten, but he was quick to remember that he wanted to please you.

He'd snap out of his state of intense pleasure, to carefully switch positions, him looking over you with your back against the bed.

You both discuss it, of course, attempting to set boundaries before hand. Even just the tender discussion would get him riled up. So he'd lean foward and kiss you again, showing off his forked tongue before peppering kisses down your entire body, until he was close enough to let his hot breath heat up your folds.

You'd feel his nervous breath on you before delving in. He would be hesistant of course, but would be quick to get used to your entrance after running his tongue across your entirety multiple times. Lucifer loves providing pleasure this way, so his brain immediately knew what to do once the nerves past. He was quick to take a tight hold onto your thighs to keep you in place as he entered you with his demonic lengthy tongue. He would look up at you as he sort of aimlessly dug around at first, waiting for a reaction. Once he'd see you dip your head back with a muffled moan, he would close his eyes to focus all his attention to that one spot. He'd reach his thumb around to circle and massage your clit that he would find far too quickly. You'd arch your back and try to get more friction against his tongue, but it's easy to forget that he is quite literally the strongest being in Hell. You weren't going anywhere.

He'd love feeling your hands in his hair and would absolutely lose it feeling you pull hard when he'd hit just the right spot. As soon as he set a steady thythm and was hearing your voice become more unhinged, he'd speed up to an extent that you didn't realize was possible after going for so long. You discussed cumming before and he made it very clear that he was okay with you finishing on his face. Fuck, he wanted it. You still warned him, moaning out his name to get his attention, "I-I'm almost there- K-Keep doing that.. like that..! Luci-" you'd almost direct him though the whole process, but were quick to become a moaning mess unable to communicate with words. You'd reach your limit and he would let you buck up into his face this time, loosening his grip on your thighs. He'd pull away after licking you clean, sending overstimulated pleasure across your entire body, with a line of your juices following his tongue as he lifted his head. He would pant with his tongue still sticking out of his mouth, and even through hazy eyes you loved seeing his demonic tongue and thinking about how it just drove you to climax.

Things would switch up again, and you'd sit him against the back of the bedframe. you'd have another quick discussion before seating yourself slowly on his length, which had been throbbing for any contact since the night started. The first few times, he'd do his best not to cum immediately. He hadn't been touched like this in a while, after all. You'd only begin to move once you made sure he was okay since his struggle was written all over his face.

The moment you began to keep a steady space, he would jut his hips upwards, becoming needy to feel this sensation he hadn't felt in over a decade. The first time didn't last long. It was sweet, and he would constantly moan out your name and babble on about how much he loves you. The entire time, you'd be praising him through every move until he was going too fast for you to get a sentence out.

He'd cum inside of you, another previously discussed topic. You essentially had to beg to convince him it was okay. You'd collapse onto his chest, a position he didnt see often. While the two of you always cuddled, you were so focused on making sure he was comfortable, Lucifer realized you didnt often get the chance to just relax on top of him. So after realizing that? Aftercare was amazing.

He'd let you sit with him inside you for a while, before pulling you off and immediately cleaning you up. Some nights, when he felt especially dominant, he would lap up his own cum from your incredibly sensitive cunt. He would swallow some of it, but was mainly pushing anything that dripped out back into your entrance.

After cleaning you up, he would wiggle his way back underneath you and pull you onto his chest, enjoying taking care of you the way you took care of him.

After the first night, lucifer would be much more confident. He'd have that healthy glow, but would be more assertive during meetings, more communicative and wouldnt shut others out as often. It really helped him realize how much you gave to him, and he was determined to give all that and more back to you.

[emilky-whim]

Folklore Legacy Challenge

Hey Ya'll! I've been working on this one for a little while and I can't wait to share it with you! It's a 16 + 1 generation legacy challenge for the Sims 4 based off of Taylor Swifts album Folklore! There aren't many solid rules for this one, I mostly just want ya'll to have fun and play it in a way that makes sense to you. That being said: - Mods and cheats are ok to use (I even encourage it). - Each Gen must have at least one child to play as the next heir. - I have used lots of packs in making this, you will need: City Living, Cats and Dogs, High School Years, Get Together, Crystal Creations, For Rent, Outdoor Retreat, Island Living, Dream Home Decorator, Parenthood, Discover University, Dine Out, Stranger Ville, Get Famous, Spa Day, Growing Together + more that I've probably forgotten. - If you do not have the required packs, feel free to change what you need to as long as it is somewhat similar to the original.

Gen 1: The One

You’re a meticulous gardener with a penchant for perfection, fiercely loyal to your craft and to your loved ones. Despite your somewhat snobbish tendencies, you dedicate yourself to finding true love, and when that journey ends, you never REALLY get over it. Yet you continue to cherish your familial bliss and vibrant social life.

Career - Gardener (Either Branch)

Traits - Perfectionist, Loyal, Snob

Aspiration - Curator 

Complete the soulmate aspiration with only one sim. Your sims permanently ‘separate’ once the aspiration is complete.

Always accept invites/calls from other sims.

Adopt at least one child.

 ‘’ = You may separate them as you choose.

Gen 2: Cardigan

You're a charismatic politician, oozing self-assurance and intellect, always in the know. As a Renaissance Sim, mastering myriad skills comes naturally to you. Amidst your political pursuits, you find time for youthful adventures, savouring bar dates, maybe one day you’ll finally settle down with a cherished companion.

Career - Politician (Charity Organiser)

Traits - Self-Assured, Genius, Insider

Aspiration - Renaissance Sim

Master all the skills needed for the politician career. 

Go on at least 5 bar dates as a young adult.

Eventually marry a childhood friend.

Gen 3: The Last Great American Dynasty 

You're a devoted stay-at-home parent, balancing material desires with a deep love for family and furry companions. Despite setbacks like a failed marriage and neighbourhood feuds, you find solace in nurturing your family and friends, building a home filled with love, even amidst domestic changes.

Career - Stay At Home Parent (You can work any career until you parent a child)

Traits - Materialistic, Dog-Lover, Family-Oriented

Aspiration - Mansion Baron

Have one failed marriage.

Become enemies with at least one neighbour.

Have your first child as a newly aged up young adult.

Move in with friends for at least one year.

Gen 4: Exile

In the world of espionage, you've always stood out. While others excel in covert ops, you thrive in building connections. Romantic at heart, yet socially awkward, you're drawn to leading, seeking solace in your club's camaraderie. After heartbreak, you relocate, shying from commitment but embracing your chosen family.

Career - Secret Agent (Diamond Agent)

Traits - Romantic, Socially Awkward, Gloomy

Aspiration - Leader Of The Pack

Create and lead your own club. Become friends with all the members.

After a major breakup, move to a different world.

Never get married or stay in a long-term relationship.

Gen 5: My Tears Ricochet

Amidst canvases and clay, you've always preferred solitude to the bustle of social affairs. As a critic, you explore the depths of creativity, while crafting jewellery and crystals on the side. Despite your artistic fervour, relationships falter, leaving you to nurture your creative progenies and seek solace in your craft.

Career - Critic (Arts Critic)

Traits - Loner, Creative, Art Lover 

Aspiration - Crystal Crafter 

Have a side business selling Jewelry and Crystals.

Get left OR leave someone at the altar.

Have at least 4 children.

Gen 6: Mirrorball

In the spotlight's embrace, you dazzle as an entertainer, with moves that mesmerise and demands that rival divas. Behind the glamour lies a heart yearning for connection, seeking solace in fleeting affairs. As you master the arts of song and stage, you flit from home to home, craving new experiences and relationships to fulfil your insatiable appetite for life.

Career - Entertainer (Musician)

Traits - Dance Machine, High Maintenance, Generous 

Aspiration - Friend Of The World 

Have a secret love affair, with whom you’ll eventually marry.

Master the singing, piano and acting skills. Never master any other skills.

Live with at least 3 different sims over your lifetime. 

Gen 7: Seven

Beneath the stars, you find your playground, a whimsical astronaut drawn to the great unknown. Childhood antics linger as you escape the mundane, running away with a friend to explore the world. Haunted houses hold no fear for you, just another adventure in your quest for outdoor thrills. With each holiday, you uncover new wonders, embracing the vastness of the universe.

Career - Astronaut (Space Ranger)

Traits - Childish, Loves Outdoors, Good

Aspiration - Outdoor Enthusiast 

Run away from home as a teenager with a friend/s

Live in a haunted house. 

Go on a holiday seven times over your lifetime. 

Gen 8: August

In the vibrant world of social media, you craft narratives with precision, driven by ambition and a hint of envy for the spotlight. Amidst beachside dreams, you seek solace in Sulani's embrace, drawn to its sun-kissed shores. An affair with a married sim sparks passion, leading to a child and an obsession, anchoring you to the idyllic island life, forsaking love for the serenity of the sea.

Career - Social Media (Public Relations)

Traits - Jealous, Ambitious, Neat

Aspiration - Beach Life

Have an affair with a married sim you meet while on vacation.

Have at least one child with the married sim.

Live in Sulani for most, if not all, of your lifetime.

Never date again after your affair ends.

Gen 9: This Is Me Trying

Driven by a desire to transform spaces, you carve your niche in the world of interior design, fueled by ambition yet shadowed by melancholy. As a youth, you flee, severing ties to forge a path of your own. Love finds you in the arms of a cheerful soul, grounding you upon your return, where you rebuild bridges and strive to be the ultimate caregiver to your children, overcoming personal demons along the way.

Career - Interior Decorator 

Traits - Ambitious, Overachiever, Gloomy 

Aspiration - Super Parent

Move away as a teenager/young adult and lose most of your sims relationships.

Get married to a Cheerful sim. 

Move back as a young adult/adult and re-make all the relationships you lost.

BONUS (Only if you have the Basemental Drugs MOD) Become addicted to at least one substance and successfully complete rehabilitation for it.

Gen 10: Illicit Affairs

In the courtroom's halls, you weave tales of justice as a private attorney. Driven by wanderlust and a fear of commitment, marriage comes swiftly, but it's the thrill of forbidden affairs that ignites your passion. Caught in multiple webs of deceit, divorce looms, leading you to Henford-on-Bagley, where you navigate the complexities of parenthood alone, seeking solace in the quiet countryside.

Career - Law (Private Attorney)

Traits - Non-Committal, Advenutrist, Clumsy

Aspiration - Serial Romantic

Get married young and have at least 4 affairs before getting caught. 

Have at least one child through an affair.

Get divorced 

Move to Henford-on-Bagley to raise all your children by yourself.

Gen 11: Invisible String

You always dreamed of sizzling pans and crafting culinary delights, a romantic at heart with a green thumb to match. Love's journey takes unexpected turns—a tumultuous romance with a mean spirit, a dance of uncertainty with a lifelong friend. As the years pass, you find your soulmate as an elder, nurturing both your restaurant empire, a family and a thriving garden.

Career - Own your own restaurant (or multiple restaurants)

Traits - Romantic, Good, Green Friend

Aspiration - Soulmate

Be in a long-term relationship with a mean sim and eventually break up.

Have a ‘will they, won’t they’ type of relationship with a life-long friend sim.

Get married as an Elder.

Have a well-maintained garden.

Have all restaurants at 5 stars.

Gen 11: Mad Woman

Betrayed in your youth by those you trusted the most, you harbour scars deep as loyalty binds you to your cause. You ascend the ranks of the criminal underworld, fueled by anger and an unyielding pursuit of justice and vengeance. Marriage offers solace, yet the thirst for retribution remains, driving you relentlessly until old age grants the serenity you seek.

Career - Criminal (Boss)

Traits - Hot-Headed, Perfectionist, Loyal 

Aspiration - Seeker of Secrets

As a teenager, have an ex friend/friend group/lover ruin your reputation/life.

Spend the rest of your adult life trying to get revenge.

Marry a friend. 

Only find peace/let go as an elder.

Gen 12: Epiphany 

Straight out of high school to the covert operations of the military, you excel, driven by duty and a longing to provide for your family. Medals adorn your chest, earned through dedication and sacrifice. Love finds you in the arms of a medical professional, but shadows linger, as memories of battle haunt your days, a silent reminder of the price of service.

Career - Military (Covert Operator)

Traits - Overachiever, Family-Oriented, Good

Aspiration - Big Happy Family

Join the military immediately after finishing highschool.

Retire/quit your job as soon as you earn all available medals.

Date and marry sim with the medical career.

Live with PTSD (you can use a mod for this)

Gen 14: Betty 

Your high school romance blossoms into marriage, yet jealousy festers, leading to a massive indiscretion that fractures the trust you’ve built. Amidst the wreckage, you strive to mend what's broken, seeking solace in weekly garden dates as you navigate the rocky terrain of love. In the digital realm, you thrive as a freelancer, coding with confidence and a hint of cringe-worthy humour.

Career - Freelancer (Programmer)

Traits - Cringe, Jealous, Self-Assured

Aspiration - Joke Star

Marry your high school sweetheart. 

Have weekly dates in your back garden.

Have an affair for an extended period of time before being caught. 

Spend the rest of your life trying to heal the connection between you and your spouse. 

Gen 15: Peace

Unable to make friends, you shed the burden of high school to focus on working toward your dream job and pursue the limelight. Amidst the glittering lights of fame, you still struggle to find your place and people in the world. Eventually, love finds you in the presence of an outgoing spirit, but as stardom ascends, so does the weight of its demands, testing your quest for inner peace amidst the chaos of stardom.

Career - Actor

Traits - Socially Awkward, Creative, Squeamish

Aspiration - Inner Peace

Dropout of high school and work a part time job to earn money.

Master the acting career.

Master the acting and wellness skills.

Marry an outgoing, good sim.

Become a Global Superstar and struggle with the price of fame.

Gen 16: Hoax

Born amidst the urban hustle of San Myshuno, your artistic soul yearns for expression amidst the city's chaos. Love's path proves rocky, a journey of unfulfilled connections and shattered dreams. Seeking solace in a fresh start, you depart the city's embrace, yet the ghost of past loves haunts your brushstrokes, forever captured in the vivid hues of your yearning canvases.

Career -  Painter (Master Of The Real)

Traits - Gloomy, Vegetarian, Generous

Aspiration - Painter Extraordinaire 

Grow up in San Myshuno.

Be in a long-term, unfilling relationship with sim you have bad compatibility with. Eventually break up.

Have a failed relationship with a family friend. 

Move out of San Myshuno to get a fresh start. 

Never get over one of your previous relationships and spend the rest of your life yearning to have it back.

(Bonus) Gen 17: The Lakes

Amidst the rustle of leaves and the whisper of pages, you find your muse as a writer, enchanted by the dance of words and the embrace of nature. Poetry flows from you, a testament to your romantic soul. Holidays are cherished escapes, moments of tranquillity by the water's edge, fueling your creative spirit. Yet, it's in solitude that your greatest works are born, a testament to your dedication to the craft.

Career - Writer (Author)

Traits - Romantic, Bookworm, Loves Outdoors

Aspiration - Bestselling Author

Only write poetry (unless specified for the aspiration)

Go on Holiday with your spouse and family often, staying as close to a body of water as you can get.

Complete the gemstone collection.

Leave the world behind for a period of time to focus on writing (completely alone)

[witchpassing]

interview_3aC

I got into piloting during the Third Generation. For the historically illiterate, that’s before the breakpoint, not after. Summer Offensive, Chelsk Offensive, ‘81, ‘82… All that shit.

When you say pilot now, people get a certain mental image. It wasn’t like that, back then; end of the day, a G3 frame is basically just another kind of tank. Hot like hell inside and full analogue control. You had to think five, six, seven seconds ahead sometimes, because that’s how long it’d take you to string together the inputs for what you were doing next.

I was good. I mean, I’m good at my job now, sure, but… you should’ve fuckin’ seen me then.

... Anyway. Long and short of it is, I got unlucky. Everyone does, sooner or later. Coterie railcannon caved in part of my cockpit, crushed my leg to dogmeat, and that was that. A few years later, they’d have amputated, plugged in a spare, and sent me back in, but this was ‘83, the tech wasn’t there yet. We were hearing about it, you know, shit on the grapevine about the brain-machine barrier, weird tests underground out in Lysk, but I don’t think any of us really believed in it.

I wanna say I knew what was coming, but I didn’t. Nobody did.

So. Cockpit breach. Fucked leg. They did a lot of work, got it to where I could walk on a good day, but it was obvious I wasn’t gonna cut it any more. Took my pension, checked out, spent eight years in the worst dyke bars I could find. Don’t really wanna talk about that part. That’s not what you’re here for, anyway.

So I’m a few years down the line, losing my mind somewhere in Sengrade, and I get a call. It’s this guy I used to know, I never really nailed down what he did, Information maybe, and he’s telling me about this program they’re spinning up over in Lysk, and sure that rings some alarm bells but what am I gonna do, say no? I don’t even need to hear the specifics, he’s trying to tell me it’s the next big jump in frame tech, it’s gonna win us the war, whatever, I’m already halfway onto a train.

The job turned out to be the Fifth Generation. Not only was the brain-machine barrier real, but they’d smashed clean through it. I said a G3 is basically a tank, right? So I was expecting an iteration on the form. Sharper, sleeker sure, but at the end of the day just a prettier-looking tank.

Well, I was dead fuckin’ wrong. Seeing something that size move that way, it’s… I don’t think I can put it into words. Go find a poet or something. Ask them what they think about Gen 5.

… Didn’t come for free, of course. The neural throughput on a machine that size will cook an unprepared brain like a fuckin’ egg. You need to be dosed to the gills on a whole cocktail of ten-syllable shit to take it for more than a few minutes, and the drugs make you weird. Horny, mostly - I’m sure you’ve heard about that - but you’re also looking at impaired impulse control, difficulty with long-term thinking, emotional disregulation, mania… Plus, there’s something in the cocktail or the link or both that is bastard habit-forming. You see them counting the hours between sorties. They adjust to the hyperstimulation, get calibrated to it, and then everything else is just too god-damn quiet.

Think maybe it’s carcinogenic, actually, but you didn’t hear that from me.

So, yeah. Weird. Command doesn’t want weird operating superweaponry. Weird doesn’t make sound tactical decisions. Which means all the shit that makes somebody a functioning soldier - the long-term decision making, the impulse control, the ability to give a fuck about the rules of engagement - it had to be outsourced.

The term they used at first was “special consultant”. Then “special consulting officer”, once we hit field testing. It wasn’t “handler” until later.

The first crop of us - I’m just gonna say handlers, I know how you’re gonna wanna spin this, I get it - were all ex-pilots. G3, mostly; Gen 4 didn’t leave a lot of material to work with. I guess the idea was we were the closest you could get to a G5 candidate’s frame of reference, but it was pretty clear within the first few months that that was bullshit. Some of us took to it, some of us washed out. A lot couldn’t take the wetwork, which I guess I can sympathise with.

Me, I handled it fine. Better than I should’ve, maybe. Being a tanker didn’t do shit for me, but my dad, he was a dog trainer, and… Yeah, well, you get the idea.

… No, no. The other kind of wetwork. You know what I mean.

…

The leg? Ha. Yeah, they offered me a prosthetic. ‘Course they did. But, call me a hypocrite, whatever you want - by that point I was six months in and I knew with total fuckin’ certainty I didn’t want the link. I spend enough of my time helping the military put their shit into peoples’ bodies, you know? I don’t want it walking home with me.

… No, I don’t understand why they keep signing up. Early days, sure, nobody knew what it did to you back then, but there’s been leaks, people’ve talked - hell, I’m talking right now. You can find our burnouts in any dive in the country, or what's fuckin' left of them. The candidates now, they know what we do to people here, and they just keep coming, and coming…

Though, you know… I think sometimes about the first time I saw a Gen 5 machine take off, that first day on the program. The way it moved against the blue-black of the sky, like it weighed nothing at all. And I almost get it.

[mewtwoandme]

As i tell myself "Take a break and eat a cake". Do not push yourself to do art or feel the need to do it AND! Don't apologize because you need a break, if you need one just say it, No apologies needed ever

If the hug helps even though it isnt real

I just have to stop making promises I know I can't keep and letting my ambition get the better of me XD

Real talk though?...There's other things hindering me continuing the story too. Aside from irl things, i've had a lot of time to think about my focus and direction with drawing my interests lately since the holidays. I've been at it with these pokemon/mewtwo comics, this whole blog, for almost 5 years now...straight. I haven't focused on much else art-wise really, accept for a few non related pokemon doodles sprinkled in here and there...and as much as I'm hesitant coming to terms with it and hate to say it...I guess constantly drawing the same thing for a couple of years has finally caught up to me. So there's currently an ADHD mind barrier preventing me from picking up my pen and finishing the next comic.

I have other interests and fandoms I'd like to draw for and had thoughts of making another blog about one of them. That's a small part of why my mind is a bit unfocused as of late. I feel divided, my motivation specifically feels divided. I'd like to pursue drawing other things but I've been suppressing the urge to until this current baby arc is done. Maybe that's my mistake. Perhaps I won't feel satisfied unless I doodle some of my other interests first before returning my current story...but that also means prolonging the arc further when I've been so close to the end of it for what feels like ages now! It's a frustrating feeling.

[morallysuperiorlips]

8 Tips for Redeeming Your Villain (Without Pissing Off Your Readers)

I won't lie, I love a good redemption arc for a villain. I love watching a formerly deplorable character atone for their sins and come to terms with the fact that they were wrong, and I especially love it when it doesn't come easy (as it shouldn't!). But I also know some writers might struggle with this, or worry about doing so in a way that won't aggravate readers or come out of left field. So, if you're struggling with this, here are some tips to help!

1.) Hint at redeemable traits early: All villains should be nuanced, in my opinion, but if you're going for a redemption arc, you should really dedicate some time to really showing those softer, redeemable sides of your villain from the beginning. It can be hesitation over their big evil schemes, or moments of really profound kindness in the midst of their cruelty. A villain that is too cruel from the get-go being redeemed will feel forced and likely uncalled for, so make sure you're going out of your way to show that the concept of "I can fix them" is actually possible.

2.) A strong motivation to change is a must: Nobody really makes an effort to change their ways unless they have a drive to do so, and the same should go for your villain. Don't make their mission to become "good" just a fleeting phase they happen to be going through (it's not like being emo, guys). Something needs to happen to them to drive them toward that switch. Maybe they realize the consequences of their actions and hate what they've done. Maybe the one person they want to save can only be saved if they change their ways. Maybe their beloved cat almost gets hurt during a scheme and they make the choice to change for their precious furry friend. You can really go nuts here!

3.) Remember "atonement, not apologies": Sometimes, "Sorry" isn't enough. In the case of a villain who might have done some pretty terrible shit in the past, I would wager it's most definitely not enough. While being remorseful is apart of atoning, it's not enough for them to just say "I'm sorry for trying to launch you into the sun" or "I'm sorry for committing arson on your base." Their actions also need to follow their apologies. They need to actually show that they're sorry, and are taking actions to fix the damage they've done. More than ever, their actions will speak louder than their dialogue.

4.) Remember that some actions are unforgiveable: There might come a moment in your villain's evildoings where they pass a point of no return. Some acts of villainy are just too far gone for chances of redemption. This doesn't mean that they can't have some version of redemption, but this just might come in the form of them accepting what they've done and making peace with it rather than being accepted and forgiven by those around them.

5.) Consequences don't just go away because they're nice now: No matter how kind your villain is choosing to be now, and how far they're willing to go to show that they've changed, they can't erase the past (of course, unless there is time travel at play, in which case...we'll talk). The consequences of their actions should still come back to bite them in some way, shape, or form, and they should still figure out how to work through them. Perhaps the villagers are still terrified of them, and likely will be for years to come. Perhaps the death of a loved one was indirectly caused by their wrongdoings, and they have to live with that.

6.) ...and neither does their core personality: At the end of the day, even though your villain is going through their redemption, they're still the same person they were as a villain. They still need to be the same ruthless or calculating or charismatic or dry or whatever kind of person they were to start. They just have less evil goals now. Write accordingly!

7.) The redemption needs to be EARNED: Redemption isn't something that just happens overnight. It needs to be treated like a practiced discipline. Your villain needs to try, fail, get up and try again, fail again, and keep trying. Maybe they almost give up at some point and try to relapse into evildoings. There needs to be a struggle as they come to terms with their actions, learn the correct way to atone, and find ways to make up for their terrible deeds. That way, when they've finally reached their peak of "good," it feels like it was deserved.

8.) Death does not always equal redemption: From years of reading, I've noticed that a common way to redeem a villain is just...killing them in an act of sacrifice. I feel like this only works if there's been a buildup to it. They can't just go out in a blaze of sacrificial glory and expect to be recounted as a hero when they were forcibly lobotomizing innocent children the day before. If your villains redemption arc does end in their death, the other tips still matter--there needs to be a buildup to it.

(If you like my guides, prompts, writing, or art, consider supporting the blog today! All donations help me keep this thing up and running and all are appreciated <3)

[mlqueen89]

Five | Favour

I don't know what you've been told  But time is running out, no need to take it slow  I'm stepping to you toe-to-toe  I should be scared, honey, maybe so But I ain't worried 'bout it right now (right now) 

I Ain’t Worried About by OneRepublic 

pairing: jake “hangman” seresin / ofc (top gun: maverick)

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

warnings/triggers: smut in overall series, gambling (let me know if i missed any!)

word count: 10,315

summary: ellie tries to be human. jake comes along for the ride. rooster is rooster. and teak is an asshole.

A/N: capping off our chapter four, that accidentally became chapter 5 cause i can't write anything short to save my liiiife.

dropped a little hinty poo in the chapter banner if you're curious who teak was modeled after. hang onto your butts, cause there's something special (it's smut) in the next chapter.

❥ playlist ♡ masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ glossary of terms ♡ previous chapter ♡ next chapter ❥ 

Ellie was staring at the data, but she wasn’t really seeing it. The test results were all there—every fluctuation, every spike, every point of measurement leading right up to Hangman damn near breaking her system before it had a chance to breathe. She should’ve been combing through it, analyzing the weak points, figuring out what needed reinforcement, programming tweaks, writing out her adjustment report for the ground crew. She even entertained the idea of calling the update Anti-Cocky SOB Pilot Protocol, hidden somewhere in the code, a small little piece of nothing when someone who didn’t know code looked at it. Although programming an entire failsafe trigger around Hangman felt a little like overkill, a carefully masked line of code might satisfy the tiny petty part of her. Hell, she’d sure as hell get something out of it when it flashed across her screen the next time Hangman tried (and failed) to break her tech. 

Instead, her thoughts kept circling back to Rooster’s words, to the way he’d defended Hangman like Ellie was the unreasonable one in this situation. Like she was the one who didn’t get it. Ellie respected Rooster in many ways, but she couldn’t get on board with being on the wrong side of this.  

Simply put, Hangman hadn’t followed the parameters of testing. Hangman hadn’t respected her enough to run her test the way she needed it to be run. The train of thought made her pulse tick up, the heat of anger building inside her chest as she felt the muscles in her jaw tighten. 

A quiet knock on the frame of her open door pulled her out of it, shifted the boiling pot off the burner and settled the simmering water that threatened to spill over the edge. When she looked up, Mav was leaning against the doorjamb, casually unbothered, his arms crossed over his chest. Despite his nonchalant appearance, Ellie clocked the familiar knowing expression set into his features. How long he had been standing there, watching her stew in her own thoughts, she couldn’t have been sure. 

“Got a minute?” he asked, but he was already stepping into her office, his gait careful and slow as he approached. 

Ellie nodded, closing out one of the screens, her hand trembling slightly as her heart, still coming down from the thought of the testing and the resulting conversation with Rooster, pounded heavily in her chest, before swiveling in her chair to face him. “If this is about today’s test results, I was just about to—” 

Maverick pulled up a chair across from her, dragging it closer with a skip-stutter of the legs on tiled floor. “We can go over them. But that’s not why I’m here.” 

She frowned slightly, waiting. In all the years she’d known Mav—Uncle Mav—she could count on one hand the few times she’d ever seen him serious, and it reminded her that his face could impart it. 

“You seemed… distracted earlier,” Mav’s approach was as careful as it had been when he’d stepped into her office, tilting his head as he studied her, testing the waters. “Want to talk about it?” 

“Not sure when you got so good at this,” Ellie waved her hand as if she were gathering up the essence of his presence, searching for the right word, “—relaxed dad vibe, Mav, it’s very—” 

“Oklahoma.” 

Ellie bit her lip, hard. Mav’s face remained stoic. 

Fucking Oklahoma.  

She should’ve seen that one coming.  

Ellie exhaled sharply, dropping her head back against the chair. 

The Oklahoma rule had started when she was a kid—probably around nine or ten if memory served—during one of the rare times Mav had been around for more than a few days at a time. They’d been in the backyard, her brand-new white sneakers covered in dirt, arms crossed tight as she glared up at him, stubborn and fuming after getting caught trying to sneak out past bedtime. She’d made it past her dad and her uncle Wolfman sharing a beer in the kitchen and her mom talking on the phone with the long cord stretched around the corner into the living room. She’d avoided the creaking stair halfway down the porch and was approaching her swing-set, bathed in the orange twilight when he’d stepped out from the shadowed spot on the porch. Maverick. 

“Dad said I could swing.” Ellie announced, sure of herself when her Uncle Mav had asked if she should be in bed, glancing down at his watch. 

“You really gonna lie to me, kid?” Mav had crouched down to her level, his eyes boring into hers, serious in a way she had never seen him before at that age. Her uncle Mav was the one who let her eat cookies after she’d brushed her teeth, her uncle Mav brought her cool rocks from the places he’d visited, her uncle Mav was not serious. 

“No,” she’d said, but she’d been looking down at her toes, studying the largest fleck of half-dried dark brown mud across the top of her once pristinely white shoes. She wouldn’t meet his eyes, even as the silence stretched, and she almost wondered if he’d given up on the interrogation. 

“That so?” 

She had stood her ground, chin lifted when she realized that he was indeed as serious as a heart attack as her mom would say, until Mav narrowed his eyes and—without warning—broke the silence. “Oklahoma.” 

It had meant nothing to her at the time. A random word, plucked from the sky. So random that she had waited, waited for his next words before she spoke again. “What?” 

“Oklahoma,” he had repeated evenly, confident and sure as if it were the most obvious thing a person would say in the current situation. “Means you have to tell the truth. No lying, no dodging. Just straight answers.” 

She had hesitated, sensing a trap, the kind adults set for kids who misbehaved. Santa will know you’re not actually sleeping. If you don’t eat carrots, you’ll go blind. Oklahoma means you have to tell the truth—or else.  

“That’s not a real rule.” 

“It is now. Wanna ask your old man?” 

Ellie had yelped, reaching for Mav’s hand as he stood, pulling him back with a shake of her head, her tiny ponytail whipping around her face. 

And just like that, it had stuck. Over the years, it became their unspoken pact. It had become so engrained in her, that even though it had been years since she’d seen Mav, the word evoked the same feelings, an almost Pavlovian response to spill her guts. 

Now, sitting across from Mav in her office, Ellie pressed her lips into a thin line.  

“Come on, kid,” Mav urged. “Out with it. Rules are rules.” 

Ellie resisted the urge to throw it back at him, wasn’t he the one who didn’t like rules? Instead, Ellie exhaled slowly, reaching up to massage her temples for a beat before she finally relented. Going toe-to-stubborn-toe with Mav was a losing game. 

Ellie exhaled through her nose. “I’m fine.” 

Maverick didn’t look convinced. “Ellie.” His voice was softer now, more measured. “I saw the way you and Hangman went at it today. And then Rooster. Whatever’s going on there—don’t let it get in the way. Your work could make a lot of difference.” 

Ellie bristled, could feel the prickle of reproach travel up her spine, seeping into her words before she could filer them into a measured tone. “It’s not getting in the way.” 

Maverick gave her a look. “You sure about that?” 

She sat up straighter, squared her shoulders. “I can do this, Mav.” 

He nodded slowly, then leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “I believe you. But I’ve seen what happens when you let personal feelings cloud your judgment. And I’ve been on the other side of it too.” His gaze flickered, just for a second, to the framed photo over her shoulder on the shelf, the one with Mav, and her dad, Wolfman, Iceman and Slider, and... Goose. 

Goose, Mav’s old RIO; Goose, Rooster’s dad.  

Ellie’s throat tightened and she felt the fight leave her.  

Mav didn’t wait for her to say anything, his eyes back on her now as he continued. “I know what it’s like to feel like you have to prove something. To yourself. To everyone else. And I know what it’s like to let that get in the way of what actually matters.” 

Ellie swallowed. “This isn’t about proving myself...” 

Maverick met her gaze, his brow raised. He didn’t need to say it this time. 

“Okay, maybe I want to, just a little,” she admitted. It felt like the information was being prised from her strong grip. She just didn’t know who she wanted to prove herself to yet, or maybe she wasn’t ready to admit it. “But that’s not why I don’t tr—” Ellie paused, sorting her words out for a moment before she started again. “He didn’t follow the testing parameters, Mav. He didn’t just push the system—he pushed me. And we don’t have time to play games with some hotshot pilot who wants to see if he can break my work before it’s even ready for that kind of stress test.” 

Maverick sat up, his hands sliding across his pant legs, taking a moment to study Ellie, watching her for a beat and then two before he spoke, leaning back in the chair. “Are you okay to continue? There’s no shame in bringing this back to the drawing board.” 

Ellie met his gaze, steady and unwavering. If anyone but Mav had suggested it, she’d be all over them. “I’ve spent years working to get here. I lived on bases in Germany and Turkey and South Korea, working on this. I am not letting it all fall apart because I can’t get a handle on a few pilots. It’s ready. I’m ready.” 

Maverick nodded once, seemingly satisfied. Then he smirked, wry and wide, giving his head a slight shake. “You know, you remind me of someone.” 

“Great. That’ll definitely get me a lot of bonus points with Admiral Simpson,” Ellie huffed a laugh. “Should I be worried?” 

Mav’s shrug was easy, immediate, “probably.” His expression softened, turning into something more genuine. “Come on. Let’s go over those results. Figure out what we need to tweak to stick it to our hotshot pilots. I can chat with Hondo to make it happen if we need more resources.” 

Ellie nodded; the smile that twisted her lips not easy to hide as she turned back to her screen. “I was actually thinking of programming a failsafe called ACSOBPP.”  

“ACSOBPP?” 

“Anti-Cocky S.O.B. Pilot Protocol.” Ellie smirked and from the corner of her eye, she could see Mav relax, the serious exterior fading away until a glimmer of Uncle Mav peeked through. 

“I think Anti-Seresin Protocol might be more... succinct?” 

Her responding snort had her shaking her head, and as she pulled up the data, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Mav saw through her quicker than she felt comfortable admitting. 

Rooster: You coming to the Hard Deck tonight? 

A picture of a glass of gin sitting on the hard top of a bar came through next. 

Ellie: Maybe. 

Rooster: That’s not a real answer. 

Ellie: It’s the only one you’re getting. 

Rooster: So that’s a yes. 

Ellie huffed, tossing her phone onto the bed behind her as she turned back toward her open closet, wrapped in a towel, hair still slightly damp from the shower, chewing her thumbnail. 

She’d firmly decided not to go to the Hard Deck tonight by the time she’d stepped in through the front door, her mind already drifting to the book on her nightstand she’d yet to pick up again since the flight back to San Fran. After the day she’d had, full of a dull, pulsing mix of nerves and rage, there was nothing she’d rather do at this moment than pack it in for the night, turn off her social meter and relax until she drifted into the oblivion of sleep. 

She’d followed through the motions: climbing the stairs to the main living area, every step heavy; a quick wave to Yan who sang off-key to the music thumping through her earbuds as she spread peanut butter on a slice of toast in the kitchen and didn’t notice Ellie passing; trudging to her room down the hall, pausing only for a moment to straighten a crooked frame on the wall; stripping off her clothes and stepping into the shower in her ensuite and letting the water wash away the calcified stress. 

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been standing under the water but when she opened her eyes, the small room was fogged with steam, and her phone was buzzing with a text message on the window ledge near the shower. Rooster. 

Now, she stood in front of her closet, mind slightly changed about going out, the book on her nightstand, forgotten again. It took her a minute to pull on a pair of jeans, a white tank top and the black leather jacket she’d had for as long as she could remember. 

When she slipped out of her room, her hair mostly dried and a small bit of makeup dusting her features, Yan was no longer in the kitchen and the house was dim, save for the light over the stove. 

“I know you’re not sneaking out the door in your ‘fuck me’ jacket.” Nic muttered lazily, her hair a nest as she blinked at the time on the stove display. 

“No.” Ellie had responded too quickly, she knew because Nic’s eyes were on her, taking in the rest of her outfit, from ankle boot to the crown of her high ponytail. 

Instinctively, Ellie tugged the black leather jacket tighter around her body, her arms folded across her chest. “It’s just a jacket, Nic.” She wanted to ignore the fact she hadn’t worn her vintage aviator jacket since, well— 

Nic was shaking her head, mostly to herself, but Ellie knew which thoughts were running through her friend’s head, because she knew Nic’s as well as her own. This was the jacket that had made it through the college days of clubbing in downtown San Fran; this jacket had ended up on the floor of more than one bedroom; this jacket had been with them on their “girl’s trip” to Rome. This jacket was fun Ellie’s armour. This jacket had providence: the fuck me jacket. On the inside tag where the washing instructions had long faded away, Nic had once written an ‘F’ and an ‘M’. 

“Does this, per chance, have anything to do with the fact you were sporting a serious love bite the day after my party?” 

Ellie let out a dry laugh, incredulous, though she felt the heat creeping up the back of her neck. “Oh, definitely not.”  

Bradley had said she needed to appear more ‘human’, and less Ned Leeds/Girl in the Chair to Spiderman; less Woman in the High Castle; more down to their level, accessible. She had to prove she wasn’t sent by SkyNet to systematically wipe them out. This was her white flag; the Christmas truce of 1914 (Ellie’s version). “I’m trying to be more... likeable?”

“Ok. Well, in that case...” Nic snorted as she grabbed the first glass from the cabinet she was reaching into and slotted it under the faucet. She filled it near to the top and drained half with noisy gulps before she continued. It was clear she didn’t believe Ellie as much as Ellie would have liked her to. “Tell Bradley it’s going to be on him if you get your spiky, impenetrable, stone heart broken by some hotshot pilot.” 

This time, it was Ellie’s turn to snort. “Trust me, there’s a negative zero chance of that.” 

And yet, Jake’s stupid, not not handsome face was there, in the back of her mind already fully formed, sipping on her coffee, the spark behind his green eyes alive. Quickly, the image shifted: his tall frame folded into the briefing chair this afternoon, toothpick pinched between his perfect teeth, his eyes dancing like he really got it when she spoke about her life’s work. Her stomach twisted, something all at once unpleasant and yet...not. 

Then, the reminder of her tech screaming loud, red, flashing warnings as he pushed past the parameters she’d set filled her head. His voice in her ears, smooth, calm as he pushed that same work, she thought he’d admired moments before to the breaking point.  

Ellie felt the prickle of irritation rising. Simultaneously, she felt the overwhelming urge to punch him waring with the impulse to reach out and touch the curve of his jaw, allow her fingers to ghost the place on his cheek where the dimples appeared when he smirked, satisfy the itch she felt to—nope. No. She tamped the stray thoughts down, swatted away the misty image of his perfect features until no trace remained. Shooed them back to the box in her mind with the flimsy tape and the warning stickers.

“Dude.” Nic’s eyebrow couldn’t possibly have arched higher on her forehead as she stared at Ellie, “be so fucking for real right now. Your eyes are glazing over.” 

“What’s going on?” Yan’s bedroom door clicked shut softly as she pulled an earbud out and slid up to the kitchen island where Nic was standing. 

 “Oh, you know, Ell was just sneaking out the door like a hormonal teen in the ‘fuck me’, jacket.” Nic waved at Yan, offering the jar of Nutella she’d pulled out somewhere between Ellie’s eye-glazed thoughts and now. Nic reached into the drawer to her left to give Yan a clean spoon, her eyes never leaving Ellie. 

“Woah—new development in the—?” Yan took the spoon and leaned on the counter, mirroring Nic’s posture, clinking her spoon with Nic’s expectantly outstretched one before she dug into the jar of hazelnut paste. Yan waggled her eyebrows at Ellie while Nic watched, casting her gaze between her two roommates, quietly gathering puzzle pieces. Ellie’s shoulders sagged. 

 “Wait, what thing? What new development?” Nic was already asking qualifying questions. She suddenly didn’t seem sleepy anymore. 

 Ellie rolled her eyes, readjusting the strap of her purse as she made a show of checking for her house key and her phone. “It’s a work thing, okay? No new developments on that thing we talked about that one time, ever.” 

“Me thinks the lady doth protest too much,” Yan was doing her terrible impression of an English accent. The one that had her almost kicked out of a bar on New Year’s Eve a few years ago when she drunkenly tormented a poor man who had tried to ask her out. 

“Is she seriously keeping secrets from me?” Nic turned to Yan, nodding her head in Ellie’s direction. “Are you keeping secrets from me, your oldest friend? Is it about a dick? Is it about multiple dicks?” Nic’s tone was rising, along with her excitement when she turned back to Ellie. 

“I hate you both.” Ellie flipped them off (lovingly) before she turned away, but not too soon to miss the wink Nic threw her way. 

 “Love you, too, my emotionally messy, disconnected, babe.” 

“Practice safe sex! Don’t do anything my grandma wouldn’t do!” Yan’s voice floated to her, down the stairs, as Ellie headed for the door. 

Even before she stepped out fully and closed the door behind her with a little too much force, Nic and Yan burst into feverish, hushed conversation. 

She imagined Nic was already texting Bradley while Yan filled her in. 

Yeah, runnin’ down a dream that never would come to me, workin’ on a mystery, goin’ wherever it leads, runnin’ down a dream 

By the time Ellie made it to the Hard Deck and stepped inside, it was buzzing. 

The warmth of bodies, the scent of salt and beer, the sound of Tom Petty crooning over the speakers—it was all overwhelmingly familiar, in the way a tv show picked out the nostalgia of a vague moment and made it matter, expounded. Ellie knew she didn’t belong here and yet... it all pulled her in. 

Ellie had spent enough of her childhood in bars like this to know the rhythm of them—the sticky floors, the low hum of conversation layered beneath bursts of laughter, the clink of bottles meeting wood. Her dad used to bring her along sometimes, settling her at a corner table with a soda, a colouring book and a cup with pieces of broken crayons while he swapped stories with old squadron buddies. She’d watch them, the way they filled a room with their presence, loud and unshakable, carrying the weight of the sky on their shoulders like it was nothing. Back then, she hadn’t realized how much of that weight had been left unspoken. Now, years later, standing in the Hard Deck, just on the fringe, she wondered if she had inherited more of it than she ever meant to. 

When she pulled into the parking lot, the neon lights of the sign above the door, a neon jet flickering to resemble an evasive maneuver, the light that spilled out from the windows and door coaxed her inside. Just one drink. Just one chat. Just one hour. When she pulled it out, the phone lodged in the cup holder read back 8:47 PM. One hour. 

It didn’t take long for her presence to be noticed. 

“Rigsy!” 

She barely had time to react before Rooster was there, his face lighting up in genuine surprise. He had a beer in one hand as he jabbed a finger into her shoulder, as if he wanted to make sure she was really there. 

“You actually showed up,” his grin was easy, tinged by something Ellie could place as a look of victory. “Thought you were going to bail.” 

Ellie laughed, shifting her weight onto one foot, her eyes scanning the crowd to look for other faces she might recognize. If she was going to be here, she wanted to make sure she was seen.  

“Trust me, I almost did.” She left out the part where “almost did” meant that she had turned around two sets of traffic lights before she got here but had taken a wrong turn and had ended up back on the right path, somehow. 

Rooster chuckled, nudging her shoulder with his. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you didn’t.” He nodded toward the bar at the center of the room before they started walking, “First round’s on me.” 

Before she could answer, someone across the bar called his name, and Rooster turned toward them, already halfway through an apology. “Give me one minute, okay? Stay put.” 

Ellie sighed, tugging at her jacket as she watched Rooster disappear into the crowd, before she approached the bar. She’d just reached a space in the line of chairs already occupied by some ground crew and a pilot or two when she heard it, the unmistakable drawl. 

“Well, well, well.”  

Ellie hated how she could feel her pulse uptick slightly, her suddenly racing heart telling her who it would be before she turned to look.  

“As I live and breathe...” 

Ellie turned just as Jake slipped in beside her, leaning against the bar, an insufferable half-smile playing at his lips. Yet, it churned her stomach in a way she didn’t want to give too much attention. 

There was a clink of a glass on the bar and the scrape of coaster as he slid a drink toward her—whiskey, neat. 

“For almost breaking your fancy tech,” he said, smirking as she frowned down into the glass of amber. “You’re welcome.” 

Ellie’s laugh was dry, humourless, as she pushed the glass back toward him. “Thanks, but no thanks.” 

“C’mon, Rigby.” He nudged it right back in her direction. “You still sour about earlier?” 

She leveled him with a look, but she could tell he was undeterred, watching her like he had her all figured out. “Not sure sour’s the right word...” 

The ache in her jaw that persisted from this afternoon after she’d gone over the test flight data with Mav told her there was a stronger word to describe how she felt. She just hadn’t settled on it yet. 

Jake took a slow sip rolling it over his tongue like he had all the time in the world. “Listen, I get it—you like control.” He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, watching the light catch in it before leveling her with a knowing smirk. “But you can’t build a game-changer and expect us not to take it for a joyride.” 

Ellie scoffed. “You mean break it?” 

His grin only deepened, his eyes dancing as he took his time, tasted his whiskey and set it back down. “Test it.” 

She let out a measured breath, trying not to let the annoyance coil too tightly inside her. “There were parameters, you just—” Ellie started, standing up straight now, her body turned toward him.  

Despite telling herself she shouldn’t, she could feel the heat rising inside of her, almost beyond her control.  

Instead, she stopped herself, taking one look at the peace offering on the bar before she grabbed it and took a swig. This was what he wanted, to get a rise out of her. If she was going to stay at the Hard Deck for longer than half a minute, she might as well have a bit of help. 

“It wasn’t ready for a stress test.” 

Jake’s lips twisted into something triumphant. “See, that right there—” he paused, pointing at her around the grip of the whiskey in his hand, “that’s why you need me.” 

Ellie braced against the burn of the whiskey as she drained the last of the drink, her glass coming back down on the bar top. She was waving Penny over for another before she cleared her throat around the burn, “I don’t need you, Seresin.” 

He chuckled, leaning against the bar now, offering a nod and smile to Penny as she slid another whiskey across to Ellie. “Sure you don’t. Keep telling yourself that if it helps you get off to sleep at night, Ace.” 

Ellie shot him a sharp look, her green eyes locking onto his. 

The air between them crackled—charged and unrelenting. 

Somewhere across the bar, she felt Rooster’s gaze on them, like he was waiting to see who would break first. 

But it wasn’t Rooster that put Ellie on edge. 

The way Jake was watching her, like he saw her. Like he knew exactly what she was trying to do—what she was trying not to feel. 

Ellie’s grip on her glass tightened. She would need to make some tactical adjustments, fortify her walls. 

Jake tilted his head, considering her for a beat before he spoke again. “Listen, we can keep this up all night, or we can put this to bed.” 

Ellie arched a brow as she studied Hangman. He lounged against the bar, his smirk just toeing the line between charming and insufferable.  

“And by this you mean...?” She motioned between them, as if she dared him to put a name to it. 

“A game.” 

“Let me get this straight,” she said after a moment, fingers drumming lightly against the glass. “You think beating you at—” Ellie glanced around, spotting a few guys throwing darts and a group of others hanging around lazily at a pool table nearby. 

“—pool.” Hangman supplied. 

“You think my beating you at pool is going to settle things between us?” 

Hangman grinned, like the answer was obvious.  

“Seein’ as how you were practically fuming earlier about me pushing your tech. Thought I’d give you a shot at knocking me down a peg—publicly, no less. Even the score a little.” He leaned in, his voice smooth, assured. “Unless, of course, you’re afraid you can’t beat me.” 

Ellie scoffed, shaking her head. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?” 

“Not in my nature,” Hangman said easily, flashing that signature smug smile of his. “But hey, if you win, I’ll admit you’ve got me beat—at least in one thing.” 

The laugh that escaped her lips was sharp, incredulous. Yet, she couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at the corner of her lips. “Not sure your ego is ready for me to wipe the floor with you.” 

Jake let out an easy, unbothered laugh, shaking his head. “That’s a bold assumption, darlin’. I like it.” 

Ellie paused for a moment, studying the way his lips curved, the dimples ghosting his cheeks. “What’s in it for you? You know, if by some miracle you manage to win?” 

Jake took a deep, even breath, looking away as he took a steady sip before he turned back to her, almost too quickly, as if he’d already decided the stakes before Ellie had asked. Still, he played it off with a shrug, nonchalant. “Let’s say... you owe me a favour, just for the fun of it.” 

Ellie arched a brow, arms crossing over her chest as she leaned against the edge of the bar. “A favour?” she repeated, slowly, not bothering to hide her skepticism. Somehow, she didn’t trust that owing Jake Seresin a favour was just for the fun of it. “That's frighteningly vague.” 

Jake’s grin widened. Ellie imagined if Jake ever scratched out in his career as the top aviator in the Navy, he’d easily slip into the role of Salesman of the Year in perpetuity at some dusty used car lot somewhere between here and Nevada. “That’s the beauty of it. Leaves room for... creativity.” 

She knew how creative he was. 

Exhaling in a noisy huff, Ellie was already shaking her head. “Right. And I’m just supposed to trust that whatever favour you come up with isn’t some underhanded ploy to stroke your own ego?” 

“Guess you’re just gonna have to trust me then, won’t you?” Jake clicked his tongue, before he pressed a hand over his heart, “on my word as a good Southern gentleman. Or do you think so little of me?” His face was all mocked offense; if he had pearls, Ellie was sure he’d be clutching at them for effect. 

Ellie snorted. “Oh, I think exactly the right amount of you.” 

For a moment in time, standing in front of him, she forgot how angry he’d made her; how hot her face was as she stormed across the tarmac, a shark sensing blood in the water. Single-minded, ready to rip into him. It was so easy with him, she’d noticed, to slip into the fun and light banter that made her lose focus. 

His chuckle was low, amused. “Well, since you’re worried, I’ll make it fair. If you win, I owe you a favour.” 

Ellie exhaled slowly, rolling her shoulders back as she turned her whiskey glass between her fingers. Rooster’s words from earlier echoed in her mind— he’s testing you just as much as he’s testing the system. You want to keep him in check? Show him you can handle him. She hadn’t thought much of it at the time, brushing him off with an eye roll, but now, with Jake standing in front of her, all cocky confidence and insufferable smirk, she felt the weight of the challenge settle in her chest. 

She could handle him. 

Wiping that smirk off his face would be worth it. Proving she could do this, that she could go toe-to-toe with Hangman and come out on top—that was worth it. And now, with the added twist of a wager—a favor to be cashed in—there was something even more intriguing about the game. Jake played to win, but so did she. 

If she was going to be here, if she was going to put up with his nonsense, she might as well get something out of it. 

She let the silence stretch just long enough to make him wonder before setting her drink down decisively and pushed off the bar, already making her way to the table. 

“Alright, Hangman,” she called over her shoulder. “Let’s see if you’re as good with a pool cue as you are at running your mouth.” 

When he reached the table, already moving to grab a cue stick, Jake’s grin was wolfish. “Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea.” 

Ellie was shrugging off her leather jacket and tossing it to a nearby stool, when Rooster returned with the beer he’d promised. She watched as he carefully took in the situation, looking for context clues for only a moment before he spoke up. “What are you doing?” 

“I need more—” Ellie started, rolling her shoulders, and shaking her arms in wide, exaggerated movements, as if it were obvious, “—mobility.” 

Rooster rolled his eyes, “I see that. I mean, what are you doing.” Ellie followed his gaze to Jake, who was lining up the triangle with laser focus. 

When she caught herself staring for a beat too long, she turned back, a shrug on her shoulders, taking the bottle. “You told me to show him I could handle him, right?” Ellie motioned toward the table again as if her plan was clear. 

Rooster narrowed his eyes, taking a slow pull of his drink as if he were mulling over his words. “Right. And how does playing pool with Hangman accomplish that?” 

Ellie smirked over the rim of her bottle. “It’s a start, right?” 

He let out a short huff, glancing toward the table where Jake was still lining up the racked balls with the kind of focus usually reserved for landing a jet on a pitching carrier deck. When Rooster turned back to Ellie, suspicion creeping into his expression, his voice was cautious, “what are the stakes?” 

Ellie swirled the beer in her hand, feigning nonchalance. “Just a little wager. Not even that big of a deal.” 

Rooster’s gaze sharpened. “Ellie,” he warned, stretching her name out like he already knew he wasn’t going to like the answer. “What did you bet?” 

She shook her head, waving a hand dismissively, the picture of a kind of casual confidence she wasn’t sure she had a firm grip on. “When I win, he owes me a favour.” 

Rooster nodded slowly, lips pursing. He looked like a mom listening to a kid’s genius plan to build a backyard rollercoaster—nothing but duct tape and optimism. Encouraging. Skeptical. “And if he wins?” 

Ellie hesitated and when Rooster’s brows shot up, comically high, she knew she’d paused just a fraction too long. 

“Ellie—” 

“—I owe him a favour,” she admitted, finally meeting his gaze. Though, she suspected Rooster already guessed as much by the way he was looking at her right now, unblinking and gaze set at the 100-yard mode. 

Rooster blinked after a stretch, then groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. “You really let Hangman name the stakes?” 

“Relax, Rooster,” she said, bumping his arm lightly. “It’s just a game. Don’t be such a mother hen. I’m good at this.” 

He looked at her like she had just announced she was about to arm-wrestle a shark; climb Everest without oxygen; walk barefoot across a floor littered with broken glass and rusty nails.  “Yeah, except you know he’s gonna milk this for all it’s worth if he wins.” 

Ellie exhaled—she’d already considered the possibility, contemplated that if she underestimated him and lost, the favour she owed Jake wouldn’t be one she’d like. Still, she shrugged it off. “Good thing I don’t plan on losing.” 

Rooster muttered something under his breath about people who made reckless bets with smug pilots, but he didn’t argue further. Instead, he clinked his beer bottle against hers. “Then you better wipe the floor with him.” 

Ellie grinned. “That’s the idea.” 

Rooster stepped up to the table as Jake removed the triangle, and disappeared from her line of vision, “if you’re breaking first, you’re going to want to—” 

The sound of a new song, loud and tune distinctive started overhead and both she and Rooster paused to look up. 

On the day I was born, the nurses all gathered 'round, and they gazed in wide wonder, at the joy they had found— 

Jake stood at the jukebox, grinning like he’d just won a jackpot. A tap on the machine—his lucky charm—then he turned, locking onto Ellie as he strolled back. 

The head nurse spoke up, Said, “Leave this one alone,” She could tell right away, That I was bad to the bone 

“Really?” she scoffed, stepping up to grab a cue from the rack on the wall behind him before she rolled her eyes. 

“Just setting the tone,” He took the Budweiser another pilot Ellie recognized as Lt. Javy “Coyote” Machado handed him and slowly took a sip, watching her steadily. 

“Yeah? And what tone is that?” 

Jake grinned, leaning a little closer like he was about to let her in on a secret. “That’s for you to decide.” He twisted his wrist, producing the cue ball and holding it out to her. 

Rooster snorted across the table. “Jesus, Seresin.” 

Coyote crossed his arms, smirking. “I got twenty bucks that says Hangman wins this one.” 

“Just twenty?” Phoenix stepped up beside Rooster as Ellie plucked the ball from Jake’s hand. “Doesn’t sound like you have much faith in Bagman. I’ll put fifty on my new best friend embarrassing him.”    Jake sucked his teeth as he picked up a cue of his own. “Trace, you wound me.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “Anyone else want to bet against me?”    At a nearby high-top, Fanboy snorted, shaking his head, and Bob half-raised his hand.  

“You all really think she can take me?” 

Phoenix was already handing the bill to Coyote. Bob shifted on his stool, pulling out his wallet. “I think she’s about to embarrass you, and I, for one, am here for it.” 

Jake turned back to Ellie, leaning against his cue stick. “Alright then, Rigby. Let’s give the people what they want.” 

“No time like the present.” 

“Ladies first,” his smirk remained firmly in place. 

Ellie’s eyebrow quirked momentarily before she took a steadying breath and placed the cue ball on the table. She took her time chalking her cue as she studied, already quietly calculating angles, but her mind drifted for a moment.  

Wolfman had never let her win at anything, especially not pool. Neither had Slider or her dad. 

Not once. 

Between the three of them, she’d managed a grand total of two victories her entire life—one when Wolfman had been three drinks deep and too cocky for his own good, another when Slider had been too distracted trash-talking Mav to notice her creeping ahead.

It used to piss her off, losing over and over, until she started playing against other people and realized—oh. They’d been making her better. Pushing her. Every loss sharpening her instincts, every taunt stoking the fire in her belly. 

She planted her feet and lined up the shot. A clean stroke sent the cue ball crashing into the rack. The triangle shattered, and a striped ball dropped into the side pocket. She shifted position and sank another. 

Her next shot nudged a solid away from an easy pocket. 

Offense and defense go hand in hand, little Neven, Slider used to say, knocking her perfectly lined-up shots out of play. Focus too much on scoring, and you’ll hand your opponent the game. 

Jake let out a low whistle. But she saw it—the way his eyes flickered across the table, already calculating. A moment later, he lined up and sank two shots before missing his third. 

He straightened, offering her a slow, knowing wink. “Let’s see if you can keep up.” 

Ellie exhaled sharply through her nose. Not getting in my head, Seresin. She met his gaze, a smirk tugging at her lips. 

“Oh, don’t worry about me, Hangman.”  

The second she bent at the waist, lining up her shot, she felt it—the shift in him. 

Jake was moving around the table in a lazy orbit, slow and sure. She could feel his eyes on her and the heat creeping up her body. He’d clearly taken it as a personal challenge to wedge himself inside of her, any way he could. 

It wasn’t innocent. She knew it. Just like she knew what he was doing every time he called her Ace, when he’d sipped her coffee without asking, locking eyes like he was daring her to stop him. He was playing a game only they knew, moving to a beat only they could feel. 

As he approached, the brush of his gaze passed over her back where she could feel the gap between the hem of her tank, down the lines of her legs where her jeans hugged against her curves. She felt his gaze lingering somewhere decidedly publicly inappropriate before sliding back up. It was almost clinical, in that maddening way Ellie associated with him—assessing, measuring, like he was waiting to see if she’d react, waiting to see how far he could push her. 

Yet knowing what he was doing didn’t stop her from having to fight the feelings he kicked up; a growing heat coiling low in her abdomen, the fuzzy feeling that licked at the edges of her reasoning thoughts of him filling her mind like confetti snowing down from the rafters of her subconscious. 

Welcome to Masterclass, meet Jake Seresin. Today, he will be teaching you how to make your knees weak and think about his mouth way too much. 

She took a breath, pushing the distraction aside, sweeping away the shredded paper littering her thoughts, focusing on the shot. Just her, the cue ball, and— 

“Christ, Hangman, stop hovering. It’s cheating.” 

Rooster’s voice cut through her barely collected concentration, scattering her thoughts like a strong wind against a pile of raked leaves.  

Ellie let out a sharp exhale, straightening just as an argument kicked off to her left.

“Cheating? You think I’m using some kinda—what—telepathic distraction?” Jake scoffed, feigning offense as he leaned against his cue stick like he was above it all. “C’mon Rooster... have a bit of faith in your girl, here.”

Rooster wasn’t buying it. “You’re trying to distract her on purpose. It’s a cheap move.”

“Oh, please,” Jake snorted, rolling his eyes. “She’s not some rookie who’s gonna crack just ‘cause I happen to exist near the table.” 

“Nah. You happen to exist near her, not just the table,” Fanboy cut in, joining the fray, shaking his head animatedly. He was stepping in close to Jake now, invading his personal space, before stepping back and pointedly repeating his close step, “See, there’s a huge difference. You're hovering like a damn vulture while she’s trying to get a read on the shot.” 

Jake sighed as he leaned against his cue stick, but Ellie could hear the smile behind his voice, the look of a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar passing over his face. “That’s slander.” 

“It’s not slander if it’s accurate,” Rooster shot back. 

“There’s no rule against existing around the table.” Coyote cut in, waving his hands from where he sat, “completely unbiased opinion, here.” 

“Oh sure,” Phoenix scoffed, “it’s got nothing to do with the fact you bet a clean $150 on your buddy here?” 

Ellie dragged a hand down her face, shaking her head, while the peanut gallery continued their debate over whether Hangman’s presence alone constituted cheating.

“You’re all giving me a headache,” she muttered, grabbing her beer, taking a sip and advantage of the well-timed break from her thoughts before shifting her focus back to the table. 

Jake, undeterred, leaned in just a fraction, voice dropping low enough for only her to hear. “You know, Rigby,” he murmured, eyes still gleaming with mischief, “if I am a distraction... you could always return the favour.” 

Over his words, Ellie could hear the argument ignited anew with Fanboy shouting “See!” and Coyote reaffirming, phone gripped in his hand, that there was not a rule on proximity between players. 

Ellie didn’t look at him, instead she reset her stance, her gaze refocused on the shot, but she couldn’t fight the shiver that rolled through her. His chuckle told her he’d seen. 

In response, she adjusted her shot quickly, pulled back—this time purposefully ramming her elbow into his ribs with enough force to make him grunt. She felt the slight recoil of his body, the subtle flinch, and the way his breath hitched for just a second before he recovered. 

 A smile threatened to crack her lips, but she bit it back, following through with her shot and sinking the striped ball into the far corner pocket without hesitation. 

When she stood again, he was rubbing his ribs, a quiet laugh escaping him as he straightened. “Well,” he drawled. “Didn’t know we were playing dirty.” 

Ellie smirked, slow and victorious. “Guess you’re learning something new about me, then. Let’s call it a tactical adjustment.” 

The game had taken longer than Ellie had anticipated. She’d missed more shots than she cared to think about, but to her surprise, Jake wasn’t faring much better.  

The bets had stopped rolling in closer to the middle of the game, but occasionally, someone dared to add to the pot. 

Dutifully, Coyote announced the amount had hit $532. Since, there hadn’t been much chatter, just groans and murmurs when shots were taken and cheers when the person the gathered crowd bet to win sunk balls. 

Early, Ellie had pulled ahead. Jake hadn’t let her keep the lead for long though. His smart aleck remarks had died down when he settled into the competitive nature between them, his brow furrowed as he lined up shots, so he resembled more of the man in the photo on his personnel file.  

Jake’s eyes tracked her. He brushed against her arm—light, deliberate. The contact crackled.  

Ellie swallowed. “You’re in my way, Hangman.”  

He smirked, unbothered. 

Now, Ellie stared down the eight ball as she lapped the table for a second time. The music played in the background as she took a slow breath, forcing herself to block out the noise of the bar. 

One shot.

That’s all it would take. 

One shot and she’d have him beat. 

Halfway through her second pass she stopped, settling on the angle square in front of Jake. Rolling the chalk in her palm before she tipped it over the cue, Ellie let the practiced motion bring her an iota of calm before she moved into position.  

In that moment, her eyes beginning to focus on the ball and the far pocket she wanted to send it into, Ellie felt the air shift, just slightly. 

The scrape of a chair in the relatively quietened bar was easy to hear. Heavy boots on the floorboards. Then—  

“Careful now, Rigby. Hate to see you choke when the stakes are high.” 

Ellie’s grip tightened on the cue stick. She didn’t have to look up to recognize the voice—the easy drawl carried the kind of casual arrogance that made her skin crawl, barely veiled behind a Virginian twang. 

She stood just in time to see Teak shoulder his way to the front of the crowd gathered around the table. He wasn’t looking at her, not directly—his attention drifting lazily around the bar, like he had only just now taken notice of the game, like he wasn’t deliberately disrupting her focus when she just about had the game in the bag. 

“Course,” he added, finally flicking his gaze to Jake, who had taken up a relaxed posture near Coyote, arms folded across his chest. “I guess Hangman here don’t mind putting on a show. Get that pot nice and fat.” 

Ellie could feel the stiffness in her shoulders. Teak’s words were light, almost offhanded, as if it were a second thought, but she could hear what was really being said beneath them. The implication that Jake was letting her think she could win just to make a spectacle. 

Jake, to his credit, barely reacted. He let out a small, amused hum and tilted his head toward Teak. At his side, Coyote was grinning like the cat that ate the canary. 

“Appreciate the concern, Hughes,” Jake said easily, his response coming quickly. “But I gotta tell you—if I was throwing the game, I’d have done a better job losing.” 

A few people in the crowd chuckled. Teak’s mouth twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile, but he let out a short breath and pushed off from the high-top table he’d been leaning against. 

“Ignore him,” Rooster shifted, his eyes sliding over to Teak for only a moment. If she were a boxer Ellie imagined that he might have pulled out a small stool, a dampened rag and patted her forehead, handing her a water bottle. “He’s looking to stir shit up.” 

She was trying, but she could feel Teak’s smirk, the weight of his stare, waiting for the moment she’d fold, flinch. Teak was every high school bully with something to prove, someone to put down. 

Ellie nodded at Rooster before turning back toward the table. Carefully, she set her stance. Blocked Teak out. Focused. 

One shot. 

She aimed. The eight ball caught the light overhead, and Ellie pulled her cue back. As the stick slid forward in her hand, smooth and sure, the cue ball cracked against the eight ball aimed for the corner pocket—

—and just nudged the edge of the pocket before rolling away.  

A miss, by just a breadth.

The noise that followed was immediate. A mix of groans and murmurs, a few low whistles, some hisses. Someone muttered “damn” under their breath.

Ellie straightened; her eyes locked on the corner pocket where the ball had veered just off course by a fraction. She didn’t move. 

Didn’t react. 

She inhaled, slow and steady, forcing the heat of her frustration down before it could rise to the surface. Losing was part of the game. She’d learned to take it in stride, to tip her head and say good game like it didn’t matter, like it didn’t sink its teeth in and linger. But no matter how many times she’d lost before, she couldn’t remember the last time it felt like this. 

Still, she wouldn’t give Teak the pleasure of showing it. 

Jake stepped forward, lined up his shot, and sank it without hesitation—no mistake. 

A clean win. 

He straightened, rolling his shoulders loose, and this time, when his gaze found hers, there was only the quiet satisfaction of a victory earned. 

Ellie met his eyes, then gave him a sharp nod, a tight smile. “Good game, Seresin.” 

She turned and passed her cue to Rooster, then reached for the last sip of her beer. Only then did she let her fingers tighten slightly around the bottle, let herself take a steadying breath. She didn’t need to look at Teak. Didn’t need to see whatever smug amusement he was probably wearing like a second skin. Ellie would let him think what he wanted, btu she wouldn’t give him the reaction he was hoping for. 

As Ellie set the empty bottle down, Phoenix clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Hell of a game, Rigby,” she said, giving her a small shake. 

Bob nodded in agreement, offering her an encouraging smile, his large-framed glasses magnifying the sincerity in his eyes. “You had him sweating there for a second.” 

Fanboy, always one to keep things light, grinned. “Pretty sure half the bar was rooting for you. Next time, make him work for it a little more, yeah?” 

Ellie huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head before she turned back to Jake. “Guess that means I owe you a drink.” 

Jake smirked, stepping aside to let her pass. “Careful now. I might start thinking you actually like me.” 

Ellie didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reply, just rolled her eyes and started toward the bar, weaving through the lingering crowd. It wasn’t until she reached the counter, resting her elbows on the polished wood, that she allowed herself to breathe. 

She could feel it still—Teak’s words, the weight of his presence, the way they clung like a shadow even now. 

But he wouldn’t see that. Not if she could help it.  

Some of the crowd had drifted toward the pool tables, others toward the booths lining the far side of the room now that the game was over. Ellie waved at the bartender, signaling for two drinks before she leaned against the bar, her elbows braced against the polished wood.  

She could still feel the annoyance blistering just under the surface. Not at losing—she could handle that—but at missing. At letting Teak get under her skin with only a few words, both said and unsaid. 

She felt the brush of leather on her arm as someone moved to stand beside her and before she turned her head, she knew. 

“Not going to lie. Thought you’d take off after that embarrassing miss,” Teak drawled, his tone smug. “Figured you’d be licking your wounds somewhere quiet.” 

Ellie didn’t move to give him more space, accepting a glass of whiskey as Penny slid two across to her. “Still here. Guess that means I'm tougher than you thought.” 

Some small, smug part of her wanted to tell Teak that he wasn’t as intimidating as he thought he was. She wanted to tell him that he wasn’t the first pilot to try to make her feel like she was an outsider, a woman in a man’s world. She wanted so badly to tell him that if he was trying to push her out, he’d have to try harder. Instead, she kept quiet, took a sip of her whiskey and bit the inside of her cheeks. 

Teak huffed a laugh, leaning in, his elbow sliding across the bar to nudge hers, jostling the glass in her grip slightly. “Or maybe just too stubborn to take the hint.” 

Ellie turned to face him before she could stop herself, leveling him with a stare. “That supposed to mean something?” 

“Only that some people don’t know when they’re outmatched.” He gave her a smirk, his eyes flicking down, lingering just a beat too long and then finding their way back to lock onto hers. “But hey, I like that in a woman.” 

Ellie’s fingers tightened around her glass, but she kept her expression neutral. 

If ick were a person, she was certain it would be Teak. 

“Good for you,” she said flatly, shaking her head as if trying to ask if his criteria for a woman he would be interested in was supposed to mean something to her. 

Teak ignored the disinterest in her voice and pulled a crisp hundred-dollar bill from his pocket, sliding it across the bar toward her. 

“Tell you what,” he said. “Here, for the drink. Consider it a consolation prize.” 

Ellie barely spared it a glance before pushing it back toward him stiffly. “I don’t take handouts. Thanks.” 

Teak chuckled, slow and self-satisfied, before flicking the bill right back at her, the bill fluttered momentarily, landing on her forearm. “Keep it, sweetheart. I insist. Buy yourself something pretty. Might make losing a little easier to swallow.” 

She had already turned to face Teak, her whole body shifting as her skin prickled, heart beat loud in her ears, before she knew what she was doing. She had just opened her mouth to speak when a firm clap landed on Teak’s shoulder. 

Jake. 

Ellie stared Teak down, unblinking as Jake shook Teak slightly, his vibe decidedly buddy-buddy. She hated to admit it, but his presence alone was a relief, a splash of cold water on a hot surface. 

“Don’t think you’ll have much luck with Rigby, Hughes,” Jake said, his voice easy, like the set of his shoulders didn’t suggest he was already gearing up to yank Teak away from the bar by the scruff of his leather jacket. Jake’s eyes flicked up to catch Ellie’s and it was enough to shake her out of her murderous trance. “I’ve been tryin’ all week.” 

Teak let out a laugh, though it sounded forced. “That right? Guess I’ll leave it to you then.” He slid away from the bar, tossing a glance between Ellie and Jake before he added, almost as an afterthought, a swipe. “Taming of the shrew and all that. Good luck, Seresin.” 

She’d already turned back to the bar, sliding the second whiskey over to the spot Teak had vacated, when Jake slipped in beside her, shoulder to shoulder. 

“Surprised you know enough about Shakespeare to reference it,” she said, only a murmur, mostly under her breath and into her glass. 

Jake let out a low chuckle, tossing a look over his shoulder. “I don’t think he heard that, Ace,” he said, picking up his glass. “You’d better call him back over so he can take his insult like a man.” 

Ellie shot him a dry look. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that.” 

After a beat of silence, Ellie pushed the crisp hundred-dollar bill toward him. “I think that’s yours,” she said. 

Jake glanced at it, then at her, one brow ticking up. A slow smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. 

“You trying to pay me off, Rigby?” 

Ellie scoffed, shaking her head. “Not a chance,” she said, then tilted her head, considering. “Besides, I think it’d take more than that to make you forget I owe you a favour now.” 

Jake let out a small chuckle, taking the bill and, without hesitation, stuffed it straight into the tip jar behind the bar. The bartender, catching the movement, shot him a surprised look, but Jake just lifted his drink in acknowledgment. 

Ellie rolled her eyes, lifting her own glass. 

“Show-off,” she muttered, struggling to keep the smirk off her lips. 

Jake grinned. “Always.” 

After a beat, Jake broke the silence. 

“Thought you were supposed to wipe the floor with me?” 

“I think both you and I know that I would have.” Ellie raised her eyebrow at him, shaking her head. “If it wasn’t for Teak. You set something up with him earlier?” 

Jake only shrugged, a smirk on his lips as he set his glass down. “Still won, you know.” 

Ellie scoffed, shaking her head as she stepped up to the bar. “I almost had you.” 

Jake’s grin widened, slow and infuriating. “A win is a win. You know what they say about almosts—horseshoes and hand grenades, Rigby.” 

Ellie shook her head, but she couldn’t quite stop the amused huff that slipped out. “You would say that.” 

“Damn right, I would.” 

She let her eyes flick over to the pool table, where her cue stick rested against the edge before Bob gathered it up and Phoenix set the table for a new game. “You got lucky. Next time, I’m not going to let you distract me.” 

Jake lifted a brow, the waves of confidence that rolled off of him almost contagious. “Darlin’, if I distracted you, that sounds like a you problem.” 

Ellie rolled her eyes, turning back toward the bar. “I think I’ll need another drink if I’m going to keep listening to all this trash-talk.” 

Jake laughed, low and pleased, as she raised a hand to signal Penny— 

Her phone buzzed in the pocket of her jacket and without thinking, fished it out. 

She barely glanced down before she saw the contact’s name, glowing stark against the dark screen. 

Dad. 

The name on the screen was small, unassuming. But it hit her like a gut punch. 

The small ease she’d allowed herself—the quiet space she’d let herself slip into, without pressure, without expectancies, the one where she was just Ellie, and this was just a bar with co-workers—collapsed in an instant. 

Reality came rushing back in, sharp-edged and relentless, filling the space where her ease had been like cold water flooding from a broken dam. 

The music faded. The laughter blurred. The warmth of the Hard Deck, the press of bodies, the lingering, teasing glances from Hangman—all of it dimmed beneath the weight of that name. 

Ellie let the call ring out, her eyes still stuck on the screen that blinked up at her from her hand. It rang twice more before the screen went dark. Her fingers curled subtly against the bar, a small anchor, a way to keep herself here instead of wherever that call wanted to pull her. 

It wasn’t the first time she’d let it go to voicemail. Wouldn’t be the last. 

She exhaled slowly, blinking hard, forcing herself to shake it off. But she had the sense that Jake noticed. His silence was enough to tell her as much. 

That for all his cocky, easygoing bravado, he was sharper than most gave him credit for. That he saw something shift in her, saw the tension lock into place where ease had been just moments before. 

But he didn’t say a word. 

Didn’t ask. 

Didn’t push. 

The silence between them stretched, taut but unspoken. She could still feel the phone in her hand, the phantom weight of it even after she slipped it into her pocket. 

She reached for her jacket, shaking it out, slipping it on with steady hands that she wasn’t sure felt as steady as they looked. 

“Calling it a night?” Jake’s voice was light, but his gaze wasn’t. 

She nodded, already stepping away. “Yeah. See you around, Hangman.” 

She didn’t wait for his response. 

Didn’t look back. 

She just stepped out into the cool night air, inhaled deep, and let the door swing shut behind her—like that could keep the past from following her outside. 

a/n: i have protective jake kink. ask me how much i fucking love him sticking it to teak subtly. also, i can't wait to write out the next few chapters. so so much planned.

if you love this series, reblog, comment, like!

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@obsessed-fan-alert @djs8891 @lunatygerqueen @khouse712 @alipap3

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[elliesfavbae]

Summer camps and dead mouses, Part 4

Summer camp with enemy to lovers Ellie Williams.

part 1, part 2, part 3, final part (5)

synopsis: Your so called enemy at the summer camp is totally messing with your head. Once she's the most angry person in the world, the other time she's quiet. You don't know what to think anymore.

pairing: mean!Ellie Williams x reader

wc: 4500???

warnings: use of y/n, swearing obv, usage of alcohol, reader gets slightly drunk, usage of weed, reader gets high, not proofread! lmk if there are any mistakes

Abby? Y/n?” A furious voice suddenly reaches your ears. You and Abby quickly look up, startled, and you instinctively jump away from her.

It's Ellie.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Her voice is loud, and her jaw is clenched, anger visibly coursing through her veins. So now Ellie decides to talk to you? Just great.

“I— What…” You stammer, not sure what to say, but the blonde next to you speaks up before you can continue.

“It’s none of your business, Ellie,” Abby sighs, trying to stay calm. “I thought we’d already talked this through.”

“Yeah, we did, but I also know you're bad news for any girl you touch.” Ellie steps closer, now dangerously near you. Abby and you are still sitting on the bench, but Ellie’s looming presence makes you tense.

“Well, you didn’t have any problem with me flirting with girls a year ago,” Abby retorts, standing up. You follow her movements, standing beside her.

“And what’s up with you anyway?” you finally burst out, unable to hold back. “You hated me when we first met, then you turned into some silent lamb who couldn’t even say a word to me. And now, what? We’re back to square one? Is this some kind of cycle?” The words spill out, and it feels like a weight is lifted off your shoulders. Finally, you’re confronting her.

You study her face closely. Ellie doesn’t speak right away. For a moment, her expression softens, a flicker of sadness in her eyes, but it’s quickly replaced by anger.

“I tried to give you space, that’s why I didn’t talk to you,” she finally says, though it sounds ridiculous coming from her.

“I don’t believe you,” you chuckle, shaking your head. “You love bothering me.”

“Whatever. Mrs. Garcia asked for you.” Ellie dismisses you, focusing on Abby as if she doesn’t even exist. Maybe Mrs. Garcia really does want to talk to you, so you start walking towards the gap in the bushes, the one you came through earlier.

“See you later?” Abby asks, sitting back down on the bench.

“Sure,” you reply quickly, not looking at her anymore. You can’t help but wonder what would have happened if Ellie hadn’t shown up.

“So where’s Mrs. Garcia?” you ask, glancing around but seeing no sign of her. Ellie looks at you, her confusion clear for a split second before she quickly masks it.

“Right… her. Maybe it wasn’t that important after all. I swear she was just here…” That’s when you realize Ellie was lying. Obviously. But why? Did she see you with Abby and decide to intervene? That doesn’t add up, though. Abby mentioned Ellie was fine with her dating other girls last year. Maybe Ellie just doesn’t want to see her “enemy” happy—unless it’s on her terms?

Before you can voice your thoughts, you realize Ellie is already gone. Great. Now she’ll probably do everything she can to make your life hell, just like she did at the beginning.

You head back to your room, sighing as you enter. Olivia is on the bed, animatedly telling the other roommates a story that has them captivated, only occasionally interrupted by a loud “What?!” or “No way!”

That is, until the old wooden floor creaks under your step. Everyone turns to see you.

“Hey Y/n! Where’ve you been? We were just getting to the best part!” someone exclaims.

“I was with Abby…” You clear your throat, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “It wasn’t like that! I mean… we just went to that spot in the bushes—”

“Come here and spill! We need every detail!” someone interrupts, and you walk closer, taking a seat on one of the beds.

“Okay, from the beginning. After dinner, she came up to me, and we started talking—”

“Wait, I didn’t know you liked Abby!” another voice cuts in.

“No, I don’t—it’s not like that, okay?” you say, hiding your face in your hands. “I just… I didn’t realize what she meant when she suggested going into The Bushes. And by the time I did, it was too late; we were already there. She sat closer, touched my hair, and that’s when Ellie barged in—”

“What?!”

“Shh, let her finish,” Olivia says, cutting in.

“Yeah, so Ellie comes in, and she’s pissed as hell, swearing every other word,” you continue. Leah, sitting next to you, looks like she wants to say something but holds back. “But this time, she was furious. She dragged me away from Abby and then just disappeared.”

“Wait, so Ellie ignored you for days, and now she’s jealous whenever you get close to anyone?” someone asks.

“I mean, I don’t think she was jealous…” you mutter, feeling your cheeks flush again.

“Bro, she totally was. I think we’re all thinking the same thing,” Olivia chimes in, glancing around at the others. “It’s obvious she has feelings for either you or Abby.”

“What? No way. The only feeling she has for me is hatred,” you scoff. “And Abby and her are over. Abby dated other girls last year.”

“So how do you explain her behavior?”

“She just doesn’t want her enemy getting close to anyone unless she’s the one in control.”

“It’s not that complicated. Don’t overthink it.”

“Please, I don’t want to hear any more theories,” you groan. You don’t even want to consider the possibility of Ellie having feelings for you. You doubt she’s capable of feeling anything other than hatred.

The girls let the topic drop, and you sigh in relief. Olivia quickly returns to her gossip, and you soon find yourself engrossed in stories about various dramas at the camp, many involving people you didn’t even know existed.

That evening’s activity is a themed dance party, though the theme remains a mystery until the assembly. You’re given some free time to get ready.

“It’s crazy! Only twenty minutes to get ready for a party?!” you all storm into your cabin, rushing to put together the best outfit for the party’s theme—Glow-in-the-Dark.

Well, that doesn’t sound too exciting. You’re told to wear neon-colored clothes—great, like you had any. You settle on an all-white outfit, hoping it’ll reflect the light well enough. You choose a white top and a long white skirt, and Emma from your room helps you with your hair. You finish with light makeup and white eyeliner.

You all assemble again and head toward the sports hall.

“Y/n, aren’t you excited?” Olivia asks when she notices you’re the only one not joining in the conversation.

“I mean… I’d be more excited if I were thirteen,” you chuckle. “I think we’re a bit too old for this.” You love partying, just not when it involves wearing neon and dancing in a sports hall.

“Trust me, the parties here are actually good,” she nudges you playfully. “Come on, you’ll like it!” Her enthusiasm brings a smile to your face.

“You really think so?” you giggle, and Olivia nods. As you approach the hall, you can hear the loud music and see people crowding inside. The windows are covered with something pitch black, adding to the mystery.

Every step closer, the crowd thickens around you.

“Look, they’re giving out glow sticks!” Emma comes up to you, helping you put a few around your wrists and one around your ankle. “Looks cute.”

You finally enter the hall. The first thing you notice is the stuffy air and the floor vibrating from the loud music. People bump into you as you try to move further inside without losing your friends, which is almost impossible in the blacked-out room. The only light comes from glow sticks and the occasional par can or strobe light. The music is blaring.

When you feel you’re far enough in, you let go of your friends and start dancing. You have to admit, Olivia was right. It’s much better than you expected. The darkness gives you the confidence to let loose, and soon you’re jumping and swinging your head along with the beat. After a few minutes, you’re already feeling overheated and decide you need a break. You look around for your friends, but they’re nowhere in sight. You shrug internally and start making your way to the exit.

It takes a good ten minutes of navigating through sweaty bodies before you finally find the door and step outside.

Outside the hall, people are sitting on benches, sipping water from cups and gathering energy for more dancing. You approach a large water cooler, filling a cup. The cold water is a welcome relief.

You spot Emma talking to some girls on a nearby bench and head over to say hi.

“Y/n, hi! Come sit with us!” Emma greets you with a smile. You sit next to a girl in a blue tank top who you don’t recognize. Almost immediately, she rests her head on your shoulder and giggles. You’re a bit surprised until you realize something.

“Has she been drinking?” you whisper to Emma, trying to keep it discreet.

“What do you think is in those cups?” Emma chuckles, offering you a cup. “Have a sip.”

You giggle and take a sip. You flinch as the burning sensation of vodka hits your throat.

“So, you’re just casually drinking vodka with water?” you whisper, smirking.

“Yeah, Jason got us some, but there isn’t much. These cups are all we got… But if you want some, I think Katie has already had enough.” She grabs the cup from the girl in the blue top and hands it to you. “Just… don’t act suspicious, alright? You know, if someone finds out about this, we’re super fucked. I trust you, though.”

To be honest, it sounds quite ridiculous that some Jason brought straight vodka to a summer camp. Fuck it, you down the liquid as fast as possible to avoid the awful taste; you even chug water after, but it’s not the best chaser. You don’t know how much alcohol exactly was in that cup, but after a few minutes, everything starts to sound ten times funnier than before. After a minute of straight-up giggling, Emma tells you to act normal, and you remember now to be careful.

You decide it’s time to go back to the party. You take one of the girls sitting on the bench with you, and you both enter the building. The vibrations from the music hit you again, and you start dancing along with the girl.

You’re swinging your head, and your vision goes blurry. All you see are fast-moving lights from the party or the fluorescent sticks. All of the people are bumping into each other, including you, and one of them pushes you so hard you’re just about to trip when someone’s steady hands land on your waist. You can feel their firm grip, but they don’t let go once you steady yourself, and you take it as a sign to dance with them.

Normally, if you were fully sober, you don’t know if you would’ve done such a thing, but the alcohol has made you much more courageous. You start swaying your hips, your back still facing that person. Their hands start to slightly guide your waist from side to side, to the rhythm of the music.

You feel they got closer, their stomach touches your back, and their head is right behind yours. You don’t even think about what you’re doing anymore. You tilt your head slightly to the side, and you can feel the person’s head leaning into your neck.

They plant a gentle kiss on it; it makes you giggle. Even though the room is filled with the scent of sweat and that typical smell of a fog machine, you can still smell the mysterious person’s scent. It smells like leather, a little earthy too. Is there also a hint of some male perfume? You don’t have time to think about it any longer, though, because before you know it, the person pulls away and takes their hands off your body.

You quickly turn around, trying to spot the person whose body was hugging yours just a second ago, but it’s too dark. You only see dark silhouettes of dancing people combined with the fake fog.

“Who was that?!” someone screams in your ear. You turn around to see it’s the girl from the bench you brought here.

“I have no fucking idea!” you yell loud enough for her to hear through the music and people’s voices. You look at the girl; your faces are very close to each other, close enough to see her facial expressions even through the dim lighting. She looks confused at first, but after a second, she bursts out laughing, and so do you. You keep dancing and brush off any thoughts. Even if you had any left, the music is so loud it would have silenced them all.

Your legs start to hurt again after a while, and eventually, the girl you were dancing with drags you out of the building.

You spend the rest of the evening talking and laughing with your friends. Coming back to your cabin, you can spot many couples cuddling, hiding among the bushes, trying to escape from people's prying eyes. You remember one particular couple. It’s Ellie and some girl. Maybe they’re not cuddling, but the girl is sitting way too close, talking to the auburn-haired girl, and her smile is a little bit too wide for it to be just friendly. But you don’t care, right? You totally don’t care.

Fuck it. Why does Ellie get to flirt with other girls while you can’t even talk to Abby for more than five minutes?

“Hey guys, you can go to the cabin without me; I’ll get there late.”

“Okay, see ya.” One of the guys says as they walk away from you, and you stay in place.

You turn around to see the girl is now brushing a strand of hair behind Ellie’s ear. Just like Abby did to you earlier. Without thinking much, you come closer.

“Ellie,” your voice doesn’t sound too calm, but not really furious either.

Ellie quickly turns her face away and looks at you. “What do you want? I’m busy.” Actually, why are you even here? What did you want to tell her? Suddenly you regret ever speaking up.

“I just- What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Wha-” You don’t let Ellie finish.

“You don’t want to leave me and Abby in peace, meanwhile you’re flirting with some fucking random girl? You’re such a hypocrite.”

“I don’t wanna be dragged into this.” The mentioned ‘fucking random girl’ gets up from the bench and walks away.

“Great! See what you’ve done? You just scared her away!” Ellie looks at you; she’s still sitting on the wooden plank, and you’re standing in front of her.

“You’ve done the same to me and Abby.”

“I told you, the counselor wanted to talk to you…” Ellie’s gaze suddenly avoids yours.

“Bullshit.” You don’t believe any of her excuses. “I know you’re still jealous of Abby. And you’re being such an asshole if you’re flirting with others at the same time.”

Ellie sighs and grabs her nose bridge in frustration. “Me and Abby are done. It’s not about her. And even if it was, it wouldn’t be any of your business, understood?”

“Whatever.” You sigh and walk away, feeling defeated. You can’t help but think of the mistake you just made. Did you really do that for Abby? There’s a specific feeling deep inside of you… It’s so little, almost nonexistent. And it’s not pleasant either. Did you just feel a sting of jealousy seeing Ellie with someone else? A super tiny one, but still. Where did this even come from? After all, you hate her.

Maybe a little part of you subconsciously believed what your friend implied earlier; that Ellie has feelings for you.

No, no fucking way. You quickly push that thought away. You feel disgusted even considering it.

You take a deep breath and open the door to your room. The light is off, everyone already tucked in their beds, all of them exhausted from the dance. You are too, but once you take a shower and tuck yourself under the soft duvet, suddenly you can’t sleep. You’re tossing from side to side.

“Can’t sleep?” You hear a voice from the bed next to you; you almost jump out of your skin. Relax, it’s just Olivia.

“Yeah…” you whisper back. “Can I talk to you about something?”

“Sure.” Olivia gets up from her bed, slips her feet into slippers, and you follow her actions. After a second, you find yourself on the balcony outside your room.

“So what is it?” The lighting is poor, the only source of it is the Moon, but you can still see Olivia’s penetrating gaze on you.

“So, well… I told you earlier that Ellie interrupted me and Abby, right?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“So, I just ran into Ellie sitting with some random girl exactly how I was with Abby.”

“What? You mean, like, super close?”

“Exactly, like I swear if I was there a minute later they’d have been already making out.”

“What! That’s actually so hypocritical of Ellie. If I were you, I’d have totally jumped them.” Olivia’s eyes widen in shock, then her expression turns into anger.

“Well, that’s what I did. I called her out, and she got super pissed off.” You sigh at the memory.

“What? She’s impossible…”

“I just wanted to ask… would you have done the same?”

“Call her out? Of course, she’s such a bitch.” Olivia snorts. “Why do you even ask?”

“I don’t know.” Of course, you know. You look at the view from the balcony. The dimly lit trees below you are swinging slightly from side to side due to the wind. From time to time, you can see one of the counselors’ flashlights in the distance.

Maybe you’ve just imagined it. You don’t have a crush on Ellie, and everyone would’ve done the same thing you did. You sigh with relief this time and feel the cold breeze hitting your arms, realizing you’re cold.

“Wanna go back inside?” You ask, and when Olivia nods, you hold the door for her. You silently crawl back into your beds and whisper ‘goodbye’ to each other before falling asleep.

It’s the next day. It starts like every other day here: assembly, breakfast, assembly. When you’re picking the activities for the day, a sharp pain hits your stomach.

Fuck, did you just get your period?

You try to finish the picking as quickly as possible. After you’re done, you almost run to your room. Normally, you wouldn’t be so dramatic, but you wore white pants today.

You lock yourself in the bathroom and… it’s not your period. Alright. Maybe you’ve eaten something bad at breakfast? 

Leaving the bathroom, you feel the ache pass; maybe it was just a bad moment. But no more than 5 seconds later, you feel the pain come back twice as strong.

You’re practically writhing in pain, crawling into your bed. When you’re there, the other girls come into the room.

“Hey Y/n. Are you okay?” Olivia comes up to you, concerned.

“Yeah I—my stomach hurts so bad. I don’t think I’ll be able to participate in anything today…”

“Wait, I’ve got painkillers somewhere in here…” Your friend picks up her bag and searches for a while, finally finding what she was looking for and hands you the medicine.

“You’re a lifesaver,” you say with a smile of relief. You take the pill, but it doesn’t work right away, obviously. The first activity is just about to start, but you feel too weak to even get out of bed. You ask your friends to tell the counselor what’s going on instead.

After a while, they leave the room, and you’re left alone with the pain. Fortunately, you feel the pain pill starting to work. One of the counselors even comes in to check on you, but when they realize it’s nothing serious, they let you spend the day in bed and leave you alone.

For the first 20 minutes, you spend in terrible pain, but it gets better with time. You even start to think it’s something serious, but eventually, the pain is gone. The activities have barely started, but you don’t want to join them even though you feel better now; the bed seems too comfortable.

You stay like this for a while, lying with your eyes closed, hoping to take a nap. But after a while, you realize you’re unable to. You carefully get out of bed, slowly, so you don’t bring the ache back. You leave the room, not even knowing where to go. You just wander around the camp. As you’re walking, you notice an entrance to the woods. It’s still on camp’s terrain; somewhere inside, there is a fence, but it still looks like a big area. You realize you’ve never been here since the camp started, so you decide to explore.

You’re following the main path, but it eventually comes to an end, and the forest continues. You start following a trail of trampled grass, wondering where it might lead. A few minutes into your journey, you smell something. It’s a strong herbal scent, a bit pungent.

What the hell? Are you smelling weed? Yeah, it’s definitely it. You swiftly turn around and are ready to walk away, because you never know who’s out here and you doubt anyone from the camp would be smoking deep in the woods, but someone’s words reach your ears.

“Who’s that?” You hear a raspy voice, a bit pretentious too. And you recognize it immediately. You even feel your heart skip a beat, but you tell yourself it’s because the voice took you by surprise, totally no other reason.

“Where are you?”

“Good, you’re not a counselor.” You hear a sigh of relief. You hear the rustle of the bushes and eventually a head sticks out of them. Of course, it’s Ellie. And when she realizes it’s you, her smile drops, but just for a second before she starts giggling.

Oh, she’s definitely high. She grabs your hand and brings you into the bushes. You don’t even have time to react before you’re there, with an old blanket, a string bag on it, a journal, and a half-finished joint.

“What the fuck is this—” “What are you doing here?” You both speak at the same time.

“Well, I was just relaxing a bit,” Ellie says, a smug smirk glued to her lips.

“I can tell.” You sigh and sit down on the blanket.

“So, what are you doing here?”

“I was just wandering around,” That’s the truth.

“I went like super fucking deep into the woods. There’s no way you’re here just because you were walking around.”

“I didn’t even get that far from the main path.” You look at Ellie, but she seems too deep inside her own world, looking at the clouds. “Whatever…” You sigh and look at the journal next to you. You pick it up, and Ellie doesn’t even say a word; she probably hasn’t noticed. You look at the page on top; there’s an unfinished drawing that looks like a female body. Suddenly, the notebook gets ripped out of your hands.

“This belongs to me,” a sharp voice interrupts you, “I was trying to draw… someone, but I think I got too high.” Ellie’s back to that mellow state. “I don’t know, man, this shit’s stronger than I thought.”

“What are you even doing, smoking at the camp?! You know they could kick you out.”

“They could if someone found out, but no one knows.”

“I do know.” A few days ago, you would’ve snitched, but today, something’s holding you back. You look at Ellie, her eyes wide in shock when the power of your words hits her stoned brain.

“So are you telling on me? Kicking me out of the camp?”

You stay silent for a while, thinking.

“Hm…” You want to say no, but first, you want to see how she will react, tease her a little.

“I mean, it would have been a perfect opportunity for you, right? You’d get me kicked out, never see me again, and probably cause me some problems with the law, too. Perfect revenge after I was such an ass.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you look at her, “but I’m not a monster.” You reach for the half-finished joint and put it to your lips.

“Pass me the lighter.” You reach your hand towards her, and she throws you the object. You light the end of the joint and inhale the smoke. You hold it in your lungs for a few seconds before exhaling with a cough.

“Fuck, it is indeed strong.” You’re still coughing, even tears appearing in the corners of your eyes. You take another drag before putting it down. A while passes, and you start to feel it—warmth traveling from your legs, through your stomach, finally arriving at your head. Everything around you starts to feel so much funnier, even Ellie’s face. You start laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Ellie asks with the smug smirk on her face.

“You are.” You’re expecting an outburst of anger, but instead, you meet with a laugh. For a second, you forget about the mutual hatred you’re feeling. But then you remember again.

“You know,” Ellie’s face turns to you, “if you weren’t such a bitch, you could actually be cool.” Fuck. Why are you being so nice? You don’t want to be nice to her.

“If you weren’t such a bitch, I think we could actually get along.” Ellie answers back.

“What? You were the one who started!”

“No, I wasn’t.” She was.

A few minutes of silence pass by as everyone is deep in their thoughts. Suddenly, you feel the wind on your skin; it’s starting to get colder, and you get goosebumps. Ellie notices it too, looks at you, then takes off her hoodie and gives it to you.

“You look cold.”

Wow, it’s the first time she’s done something nice for you. It must be the weed, though. You take the hoodie from her, and as you’re struggling to pull it over your head, you can feel its scent. It smells like it’s been sprayed with a decent amount of male perfume; you smell leather too.

What…

That’s the exact same scent the mysterious person had yesterday when they kissed you at the party.

TAGLIST:

@littlelittlebear

@diddiqueen

@cannyyyyy

@villainousbear

@ivying it wont let me tag u;(

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authors note: recently I've faced a family tragedy, I'm leaving tomorrow for 2 weeks and won't be able to write there. So the next chapter is coming in at least 2/3 weeks😓😓

Thank you for all the support I'm getting from you!!! You don't even know how much it means to me<33