#mr. soap error :)

[requiemforthepoets]

spain ⟢ FA14

⟢ part three of this time, i’ll love you much better

𖤓 series masterlist ⟢ playlist ⟢ part four ☽

PAIRINGS: fernando alonso x ex-wife!reader

SUMMARY: everything was going well for jullianna: finally meeting her father, fernando, after twelve years and getting to spend some time with him. that is until a new person inserts herself into the picture.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: no use of y/n, the parent trap inspo + plot, named side characters (except reader), twins switching places, poorly google translated spanish & french, inaccuracies with information, and minor typographical errors.

WORD COUNT: 10k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this is a part 3 of my FA14 series that was inspired by ‘the parent trap.’ i’m so sorry if it took too long, but i hope you’ll enjoy this one! your comments/reblogs is highly appreciated. the taglist for this series is open, just comment or message me if you want to be tagged on the next part.

The car rolled to a stop in front of the sprawling estate, and Jullianna stepped out, eyes widening in awe. The house—no, the mansion, was even grander than the photos Sofia had shown her. The façade was a blend of old-world Spanish charm that Jullianna would often see in magazines, and it was blended with modern elegance—terracotta roofs, white stucco walls, and large arched windows that reflected the warm Spanish afternoon sun. The driveway was lined with towering cypress trees, and colorful bougainvillea climbing along one side of the building, adding a vibrant touch to the pristine exterior.

Before Jullianna could fully take in the whole grandeur of the place, a petite older woman with salt and pepper hair came rushing down the front steps. She was wearing casual clothes—a white loose shirt that is tucked in navy-blue jeans, and topped with a pair of Birkenstock sandals. Her face lit up with a radiant smile. This had to be Alejandra—it is Alejandra.

“¡Mi niña! Mi pequeña Sofía!” Alejandra exclaimed, her voice ringing with excitement as she hurried towards Jullianna.

Alejandra had wrapped Jullianna in a tight hug, arms surprisingly strong for someone her size. There was a hint of lavender scent soap clinging to her, and it almost felt like a comforting and familiar aroma that made Jullianna smile nervously.

“Hola, Alejandra,” Jullianna greeted, trying her best to hide her hesitation as Alejandra’s rapid Spanish filled her ears.

Well, Jullianna did catch bits and pieces of it—something about how grown-up she looked and how much Alejandra missed her, but the rest flew over her head. It was putting Jullianna’s basic Spanish knowledge that she learned a few years ago to the test.

Alejandra pulled back, holding Jullianna at arm’s length to get a good look at her. “¡Mírate! Eres toda una señorita ahora,” she said, beaming. Then, without missing a beat, she began firing off another set of questions. “¿Cómo fue el campamento? Have you made any new friends this year? Did you have a lot of fun?”

Jullianna blinked, trying very hard to process the torrent of words. But then quickly nodded in return, forcing a bright smile as she replied. “Sí, Alejandra. Fue muy divertido.” she hesitated for a moment, then added, “I did make a lot of friends this year.”

She clapped her hands together, clearly very delighted by Jullianna’s response. “¡Eso me alegra mucho, Sofía! I’m so proud of you, you’ve always been sociable.”

Jullianna bit back a nervous laugh. Sociable? Oh if only Alejandra knew.

“Ven, ven, entra,” Alejandra urged, already reaching for Jullianna’s bag. “Here, let me help you with your bags. How did you even handle all of these by yourself? Ay, niña, siempre tan independiente.”

“Ven, ven, entra,” Alejandra urged, already reaching for Jullianna’s bag. “Here, let me help you with your bags. How did you even handle all of these by yourself? Ay, niña, siempre tan independiente.”

Jullianna followed Alejandra inside, murmuring a quiet thank you as the older woman hoisted one of her bags with surprising ease.

The moment they stepped through the grand double doors, Jullianna was struck by the sheer scale of the interior. High ceilings were all adorned with intricate wooden beams, and sunlight streamed through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the polished terracotta floors and elegant furnishings. The space was both luxurious and warm, with an undeniable Spanish charm in every corner of the house.

“Tu papá todavía está en Bélgica,” Alejandra informed her as they walked through the foyer, voice tinged with fondness as she mentioned Fernando. “But you don’t need to worry, he’ll be home right after the race. I’ll also inform him that you’re already home.”

Jullianna nodded, hiding her relief. “Okay. Thank you, Alejandra.”

They passed by a grand staircase that curved gracefully to the upper floors. Jullianna made a mental note of it, trying to remember the layout that Sofia had described. The last thing that she wanted was to get lost and raise suspicion.

“Deja tus cosas aquí,” Alejandra said, gesturing to a spot near the staircase. She smiled warmly. “I’ll go and prepare something to eat, I know you’re hungry after a long trip.”

Jullianna smiled back, grateful for the excuse to explore on her own. “Gracias, Alejandra. Suena bien.”

Once Alejandra disappeared toward what Jullianna assumed was the kitchen, she let out a quiet breath. This was her chance. She turned on her heels quickly and began making her way throughout the house, determined to familiarize herself with the layout.

Every room that she passed seemed to rival the last in terms of grandeur. The living room was massive, with plush sofas arranged around a stone fireplace and a large television mounted on the wall. Bookshelves lined one side of the room, filled with an eclectic mix of novels, biographies, and racing memorabilia.

The dining room was equally impressive, with a long wooden table that could easily seat twenty people. A stunning chandelier hung overhead, and the walls were adorned with tasteful artwork that reflected Spain’s rich culture, and a few expensive art pieces from famous painters that Jullianna can easily identify.

Jullianna then found herself wandering into a sunlit corridor that leads to what appeared to be a study. The walls were lined with trophies, medals, and framed photos of Fernando throughout his career. She paused as one framed photo caught her eyes—a framed photo of Fernando holding a baby in his arms. She quickly recognized the baby as Sofia—or herself, as everyone believed. Jullianna’s heart twisted slightly, she couldn’t deny the love that radiated from Fernando’s smile in the photo.

She didn’t know that there was a single tear that escaped her eyes, so she immediately wiped it away and shook herself out of her thoughts, and decided to move along. Jullianna eventually found the staircase that led to the upper floors, and step-by-step, she ascended, taking in the intricate wrought-iron railing and the soft runner underfoot.

The hallway upstairs was just as grand, lined with even more family photos and doors that seemed to stretch endlessly. “Okay,” she muttered under her breath. “If I were Sofia’s—my room, where would I be?”

She glanced at the guide Sofia had sent her on her phone, thankful for the clear instructions. A few doors down on the left, near the end of the hallway. When she finally reached the room, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Sofia’s room was very spacious and elegant, with a large bed draped in soft linens and pillows. One wall was entirely made up of windows, offering stunning views of the estate grounds. A walk-in closet and en-suite bathroom completed the space, it was very luxurious.

“Not bad, Sofia,” she muttered to herself. “Not bad at all.”

Jullianna took the time to roam around Sofia’s room, assessing every clothes and things she has, maybe judging a few outfit pieces that Sofia has. Their style when it comes to clothing is very different, both at the opposite end of the scale, but even though it’s not something that Jullianna would wear, she can make it work.

“Alright. You can do this, Jullianna,” she whispered, sitting down at the end of the bed. “You just have to keep it together. Breathe in, breathe out.”

The next day came. Morning light began to spill into the living room, the soft warmth brightening the white walls and casting a long shadow on the terracotta tiled floor. Jullianna walked in hesitantly, her steps light as she took in the scene. The large flat-screen television mounted on the wall was turned to a pre-race broadcast, showing a group of reporters passionately discussing the upcoming event. The whole room smelled faintly of fresh pastries and coffee, and the low hum of the TV added to the cozy atmosphere.

Alejandra was already seated on the plush white sofa, a wide grin spreading across her face when she saw Jullianna enter. “Sofia! Good morning! Come, come sit with me,” she said, patting the spot beside her.

Jullianna offered a polite smile, trying to suppress the nervousness bubbly in her chest. “¿Es…el día de la carrera?” she asked, recalling the Spanish words Sofia had insisted she memorize.

“¡Sí, exactamente!” Alejandra said enthusiastically, her face lighting up. “It’s the Belgian Grand Prix, and your papá will be racing today.”

Jullianna blinked, really unsure of how to respond. She hadn’t realized Formula 1 was so integral to Fernando’s life—Sofia hadn’t gone into much details about it during their swap planning, and in Jullianna’s defense, she’s not exposed in this kind of environment. But this was an opportunity to learn. She nodded and made her way to the sofa, taking a seat beside Alejandra.

On the coffee table in front of them, an impressive spread of snacks had been carefully arranged. There were small bowls of popcorn, sliced fruits, chips, and a plate of churros with a small dish of chocolate sauce on the side. Two glasses of freshly squeezed lemon juice sat next to the snacks, condensation dripping down the side of the glasses.

Jullianna glanced over the selection, noting how thoughtfully it had been prepared. She guessed that these snacks were all Sofia’s favorite treats.

“Alejandra, did you prepare all of these?” she asked, gesturing to the food.

“Claro que sí,” Alejandra replied with a proud smile on her face. “I always know that you love to nibble on something while we watch the race. Aren’t they your favorites?”

Jullianna hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Sí, sí. Gracias, Alejandra. It all looks very delicious.” she reached for a churro to keep up the appearance, dipping it in the chocolate sauce and taking a small bite.

Before long, the broadcast had shifted to the pre-race grid, and Alejandra’s excitement grew ever more. She pointed out the various cars and drivers as the camera panned across the starting line.

“Look, there’s your papá,” Alejandra said, leaning forward and pointing to Fernando’s green Aston Martin car. “He’s in eighth position today, it’s a good place to start.”

Jullianna squinted at the screen, catching a brief glimpse of Fernando’s face on the television as the commentator spoke about him. She nodded, hoping her feigned interest looked convincing. “That’s well…isn’t it?”

“Sí, very good,” Alejandra confirmed, her eyes glued to the screen. “¡Puede conseguir puntos desde allí!”

Jullianna tried to focus on the broadcast, but the flurry of information from the commentators was really overwhelming. They spoke rapidly, mentioning tyre strategies, DRS zones, and lap times—terms that meant nothing to her. She glanced at Alejandra slightly, who was fully engrossed, her hands occasionally clapping together in excitement.

As soon as the race started, the loud roar of engines filled the whole room, and the on-screen cars darted off the starting line like streaks of color. Jullianna leaned back into the sofa, watching as the camera cut from one car to another. Alejandra cheered every time Fernando’s car appeared, shouting words of encouragement as though he could hear her.

Jullianna, meanwhile, felt utterly lost. The cars all looked similar to her, their numbers and team liveries blurring together as they all zoomed around the circuit. The commentators’ explanations didn’t really help much, to her dismay. They had mentioned pit stops, overtakes, and track limits, but none of it registered in her brain.

During a commercial break, Alejandra excused herself to use the bathroom, leaving Jullianna alone in the living room. She seized the opportunity to grab her phone, quickly typing Formula 1 scoring system into Google. The first result explained that the top ten finishers earned points, with the winner getting 25 points and tenth place earning one.

“Okay,” she murmured to herself, scrolling further. “So, let’s see. Papá’s currently in P8, and it means that if he finishes in P8, he’ll get…four points?” Jullianna made a mental note, hoping that the information would stick.

When Alejandra returned, the race had resumed, and Jullianna did her best to appear engaged. She occasionally echoed Alejandra’s cheers, clapping along whenever Fernando completed a clean overtake. By the time that the race ended, Fernando had secured eighth place—started eighth and finished in eighth. Alejandra erupted in celebration.

“¡Lo hizo! ¡Fernando consiguió puntos otra vez!” she exclaimed, her happiness infectious.

Jullianna smiled, genuinely happy to see Alejandra so excited. “Estoy muy orgullosa de él,” she said, the words feeling a little bit more natural now.

Alejandra nodded, face still glowing with pride. “Tu papá es increíble. Siempre da lo mejor de sí.”

As Alejandra began tidying up the snacks from the coffee table, Jullianna leaned back against the sofa with a sigh, thoughts drifting away. Formula 1 was far more complicated than she had imagined, and the whole environment seemed very intense and all-consuming. She couldn’t help but think of how you must have navigated all of it, being married to someone like Fernando.

“It must take a lot of patience,” she thought to herself, her admiration for you growing.

She resolved to learn more about the sport. Jullianna knew that it was not just about cars, it was about understanding a significant part of Fernando’s life that she didn’t have the chance to get to know.

It has been a total of five days now of Jullianna being in Spain. The morning air was crisp, carrying a faint floral scent from the garden below as Jullianna sat curled up in a plush chair on the balcony. The blanket draped around her shoulders provided a sense of comfort, though it did little to settle the anxious thrum of her heart. The sunrise had been stunning—a gentle gradient of oranges and pinks melting into a clear blue sky, but Jullianna’s thoughts had been too preoccupied to truly enjoy it.

The balcony overlooked the sprawling estate, with its winding driveway framed by tall cypress trees. Jullianna’s gaze drifted to that driveway now, her stomach twisting into tight knots at the thought of Fernando’s arrival. She had not seen her father—Sofia’s father, in years, or perhaps, in Jullianna’s case, ever.

Her phone vibrated softly on the small table beside her, the screen lighting up to display the time. 9:07 AM. The sun was already high, casting golden light across the stone terrace. Jullianna sighed, stretching out her legs beneath the blanket. Just as she stood up, folding the blanket over the chair, the faint hum of an engine reached her ears. Jullianna’s breath suddenly hitched. She decided to walk towards the edge of the balcony, as she peered down, Jullianna saw an Aston Martin turn into the driveway, its polished surface glinting in the sunlight, and it came to a smooth stop near the entrance. As the driver’s side opened, there he was, her father that she had not seen in twelve years. Fernando Alonso.

Her heart pounded painfully in her chest as she took in the sight of her father—taller than she had imagined, his posture confident yet natural. Fernando was dressed casually, a plain white polo shirt, dark jeans, and sneakers. His hair was slightly tousled, and even from the distance, Jullianna could see the tired lines on his face, evidence of his grueling travel schedule.

The anxiety hit Jullianna like a wave, and she stumbled back from the railing, clutching her chest. Her breathing had quickened, and she immediately started the breathing exercises she had learned to overcome situations like this. In for four, hold for four, out for four, hold for four. She repeated the process, Jullianna’s trembling hands slowly steadying.

“Jullianna,” she whispered to herself, as if the name would ground her. “No. Sofia. You’re Sofia.”

Before Jullianna could regroup completely, a familiar voice broke the silence. “¡Sofia!” Alejandra’s cheerful call carried up from below. “Tu papá ha llegado. Ven, baja.”

The warmth in Martha’s voice was enough to make Jullianna’s chest tighten further. She took one last deep breath, trying to push down the storm of emotions swirling inside her. You’ve prepared for this. You’ll be okay.

“I’ll be right down,” she called back, trying to keep her voice even and cheerful despite the nerves clawing at her throat.

Jullianna glanced at her own reflection at the balcony door’s glass, smoothing her hair and adjusting her posture. Taking one final deep breath, she whispered to herself again, “Remember, you’re Sofia. Sofia Alonso.”

Then, she turned and headed back into the house, ready—or as ready as she could be, to meet the man that she had spent her whole life wondering about.

As Jullianna descended the stairs slowly, her heart was hammering in her chest. She could hear voices below—Fernando’s deep, commanding tone interspersed with Alejandra’s lighter and cheerful one. They were speaking in rapid Spanish, far too fast for her to catch every word. She tried her best to pick out phrases but only managed to catch something about a one month break. It was clear that they were discussing plans, but Jullianna’s nerves would not allow her to focus.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she stopped, her feet rooted to the polished wooden floor. There he was, in the flesh—Fernando Alonso. His back was facing her as he gestured while speaking, the confidence in Fernando’s demeanor unmistakable—posture very relaxed yet purposeful. Jullianna found herself staring, taking in every detail.

This was the man she had seen countless times in photos, television, online articles, and in the news. The man Jullianna had imagined meeting more times than she could count, and now, here he was, standing just a few feet away from her.

Alejandra turned, her sharp eyes noticing Jullianna’s presence immediately. Her eyes brightened, and she called out cheerfully, “¡Buenos días, Sofia! ¿Ya te levantaste?”

The sound of Alejandra’s voice drew Fernando’s attention. He turned around, expression softening as his eyes landed on Jullianna. A wide smile spread across his face, and he greeted her in a warm, excited tone, effortlessly switching between Spanish and English.

“¡Buenos días, mi niña! I missed you so much,” he said, holding out his arms invitingly. “Come here, give your old man a hug!”

For a brief moment, Jullianna froze. Her emotions hit her all at once—a mix of awe, nervousness, and deep aching sadness she had not fully anticipated. This is him, she thought. My father. He’s real. He’s here.

Before she could second guess herself, Jullianna rushed towards him, wrapping her arms tightly around Fernando. The hug was immediate and overwhelming. She clung to him, burying her face into his chest as tears began to stream down her face. Fernando’s arms closed around her in a strong, comforting embrace.

Fernando chuckled softly, though his voice was filled with tenderness. “¿Por qué estás llorando, Sofí? Why are you crying, mi vida?”

Jullianna didn’t answer right away. Her emotions were too tangled, mind too flooded with thoughts to form a coherent sentence. She could feel the warmth of his hand gently patting her back, and his other hand lightly brushing her hair as Fernando tried to soothe her. Alejandra just stood off to the side, watching the scene with a pleased smile.

“Mira lo feliz que está contigo en casa,” she said softly, more to herself than to Fernando. “La casa es tan tranquila cuando ella no está.”

Fernando pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt Jullianna’s chin up with his hand. His smile was teasing, eyes glinting with affection. “You missed me this much, huh?” he asked, tone playful.

Jullianna wiped at her tears hastily, embarrassed by her reaction, but unable to stop herself from smiling. “I did,” she said, voice shaky but sincere. “I missed you so much, papá.”

His face softened at her words. Fernando used his thumb to brush away the last of her tears, shaking his head with a small laugh. “Well, I missed you too, princesa. But no more tears, okay? You’re going to make me look so bad.”

Jullianna let out a shaky laugh, nodding as she stepped back. She felt lighter now, though the weight of the moment still lingered.

“How was camp?” Fernando asked, leaning casually against the edge of a nearby chair. “Did you have fun? Or should I never send you away again?”

Jullianna laughed again, this time more genuinely. “It was great,” she said, careful to choose her words. “I made new friends this year and had a lot of fun. But I did miss being home.”

“Good,” Fernando said with a satisfied nod. “I don’t like when you’re away for too long. It’s always too quiet here without you.”

Alejandra chimed in with a laugh. ”¡Eso es verdad! I told her the same thing when she arrived from summer camp. La casa no es igu sin ella.”

Fernando glanced at Jullianna, expression turning more serious but still warm. “Well, I’m here now,” he said. “And I have a one month break before the next race in the Netherlands. So we’ll have plenty of time to catch up.”

Jullianna hesitated for only a moment before blurting out, “can I come with you?”

“Come with me?” Fernando blinked, clearly caught off guard by her question. “To the Netherlands?”

She nodded quickly, heart pounding. “Yes. I mean, it’s a whole month, and I think we should spend as much time together as we can. School hasn’t started yet, so…”

Fernando studied her with a curious expression, tilting his head slightly. “You usually hate traveling to races, cariño,” he pointed out. “You always tell me it’s too much flying from one country to another, and too chaotic.”

Jullianna swallowed, hoping her enthusiasm didn’t seem out of character. “I just…I think it would be nice to go, and I want to spend more time with you. One month is not enough.”

His eyes softened, and after a moment of consideration, Fernando nodded. “Alright, princesa,” he said with a small smile. “If that’s what you want, then you can come with me. But don’t blame me if you get tired of all the chaos.”

“I won’t,” Jullianna promised, smile widening.

Fernando just laughed, shaking his head as he reached out to ruffle her hair. “We’ll see about that.”

Lunch was set up on the sprawling terrace overlooking the estate’s lush gardens. The table was adorned with simple yet elegant dishes—grilled vegetables, fresh bread, and a flavorful paella that Alejandra had prepared earlier. Fernando sat at the head of the table, comfortably relaxed, while Jullianna sat on his right side, attempting to mimic Sofia’s usual confident demeanor.

Fernando glanced at Jullianna with an easy smile, breaking the silence. “So, Sofia,” he began, setting his glass down, “how about some karting later this afternoon? Just you and me. A little father-daughter bonding time at the karting circuit.”

The fork in Jullianna’s hand froze midair, scraping against the ceramic plate as it slid sideways. The unpleasant screeching noise seemed to echo in her ears, and she winced, immediately setting the fork down as she forced a smile.

“Karting?” she repeated, voice an octave higher than usual.

“Yes, karting.” Fernando nodded, clearly amused by her reaction. “I thought that it would be fun. It has been a while since you came with me, and you used to love it when you were younger.”

Karting? Oh no, no, no. This is bad.

Jullianna’s mind began to race. Sofia’s guide had not prepared her for this. The closest thing she had ever done to karting was bumper cars at the carnival, and even then, she was not that great at it. The idea of climbing into a real kart and navigating an actual track was enough to send her anxiety into overdrive. but Fernando was watching her, his expression warm and expectant. How could she possibly say no without raising suspicions? She swallowed hard, summoning every ounce of courage she had.

“Well…” she trailed off hesitantly, trying to keep her tone light. “I mean, sure. Why not? It could be…fun.”

Fernando’s eyes twinkled with delight at Jullianna’s response. “That’s my girl!” he said enthusiastically, giving her a proud smile. “We’ll head out in the afternoon. Who knows? Maybe you’ll finally beat me this time, huh?”

She let out a nervous laugh, avoiding his gaze as she fiddled with her napkin. “Maybe,” Jullianna murmured, heart pounding.

Okay. It can’t be that hard, right? It’s just like bumper cars…only faster…and on a track…with actual rules. Oh no, this is a disaster waiting to happen.

Fernando, obvious to her inner turmoil, continued talking, his voice animated. “We’ll head over in the afternoon once it cools down a bit. I’ll teach you a few tricks, and we’ll have a little competition. Sounds good?”

“Sounds great,” Jullianna replied, forcing another smile.

When lunch finally came to an end, Jullianna excused herself, retreating back to the bedroom under the guise of ‘freshening up.’ But in truth, she needed a moment to collect herself. Her nerves were already frayed, but reminded herself that she had survived switching places with Sofia and meeting Fernando. Surely, she could survive a few laps in a kart. What is the worst thing that could happen?

The car hummed softly as it sped through the quiet streets on its way to the airport. Fernando was in the driver’s seat, hands casually resting on the steering wheel, occasionally glancing in the rear view mirror to check on Alejandra and Jullianna, who were sitting in the back. Alejandra, always chatty, was in the middle of telling a story about one of her family members.

Jullianna, on the other hand, was a bundle of nerves. She tried really hard to focus on Alejandra’s stories, nodding at the right moments and forcing a polite smile, but her mind was elsewhere. Earlier this day, Jullianna had managed to sneak in a quick call with Sofia, desperate for guidance.

“You forgot to prep me about karting!” Jullianna had whispered urgently into the phone, pacing back and forth in Sofia’s bedroom.

Sofia’s voice on the other end had been rushed. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t think it would come up this soon. Okay, okay, listen carefully.”

What followed was a rapid-fire explanation about how to operate a kart. Sofia rattle off terms like throttle, apex, and breaking zones, leaving Jullianna guessing and more confused than ever.

“Wait, what’s an apex?” Jullianna interrupted, voice tinged with panic.

“It’s—ugh, it’s the inside curve of a corner where you need to turn. Just remember to break before you get to it, then accelerate out. That’s the basic idea.”

“Well that’s not basic at all, Sofia!” Jullianna hissed, glancing nervously towards the door to make sure that no one was eavesdropping.

Sofia sighed. “You’ll be fine! Just take it slow, follow papá’s lead, and don’t overthink it.”

Before Jullianna could protest any further, Sofia had abruptly said, “I gotta go! Dinner plans with—uh, never mind. You’ll do great, I promise!” then she hung up, leaving Jullianna staring at her phone in utter disbelief.

Now, sitting in the car, Jullianna groaned internally. She leaned her head back against the seat, closing her eyes in frustration. Thanks a lot, Sofia.

The rhythmic motion of the car and the faint hum of the engine eventually pulled her into a light doze. She figured an hour of sleep might help her reset, at least mentally.

Meanwhile, Fernando glanced in the rear view mirror, noticing Jullianna was resting against the window, face soft and peaceful in sleep. He smiled to himself, feeling a rare sense of contentment. It was not often they had uninterrupted time together, and he was really looking forward to the afternoon ahead.

As they neared the airport, Fernando lowered the volume of the music playing softly in the background. Alejandra, always the attentive one, leaned forward and whispered, “should we wake her?”

Fernando shook his head. “Let her sleep. She must still be tired, I’ll wake her when we’re boarding.”

The plane landed smoothly on the Asturias runway, the soft jolt waking Jullianna briefly before she drifted off to sleep again, only to be gently shaken awake by Fernando once they had fully disembarked.

“Vamos, Sofía, we’ve landed,” Fernando said softly, his voice a mix of excitement.

Jullianna blinked groggily, taking a moment to orient herself as she was ushered off the plane. The bright daylight of Asturias was a stark contrast to the dim interior of the cabin, and she shielded her eyes with her hand. From the plane, all of them moved seamlessly into a car that was waiting for them on the tarmac. The driver greeted Fernando warmly, and once everyone was settled, the drive to Llanera began.

The drive was peaceful and scenic, the lush greenery of Asturias that was surrounding them can be seen, looking like it came straight out of a painting. Jullianna was seated at the backseat, trying to appear calm despite the nervous energy bubbling beneath the surface. Fernando, sitting in the front, chatted with the driver in rapid Spanish, leaving Jullianna to her thoughts.

It wasn’t until they pulled into the gates of Fernando’s karting circuit that Jullianna’s attention snapped to the present. Her jaw dropped as she took in the sheer size of the whole place. It was not just a track, it was an entire complex. The main building loomed impressively, with sleek modern architecture that felt welcoming yet very professional.

“Wow…” Jullianna murmured under her breath, wide eyes betraying her awe.

Fernando turned around to glance at her, a smile tugging at his lips. “You like it, princesa? It was remodeled while you were away for summer camp. A little piece of home here Asturias.”

Jullianna nodded, unsure of what to say. Little? This is anything but little! As they all stepped out of the car, a group of staff members approached to greet Fernando, their faces lighting up with genuine enthusiasm.

“Ah! Buenos días, boss!” one of them said, before their gaze shifted towards Jullianna. “Hola, Sofía! Been a long time, huh?”

She smiled politely, nodding at them. “Hola!” she replied, voice steady despite the sudden knot in her stomach.

Jullianna could tell they assumed she was Sofia. Their warm, familiar greetings made her feel both welcomed and uneasy—uneasy because what if one of them picked up on something off? But she forced herself to focus, mirroring the relaxed but confident demeanor she had observed in Sofia during their time at camp. Once the greetings were out of the way, Fernando gestured for her to follow him inside.

“I had the track closed for today,” he explained casually. “Just for us, no interruptions.”

The weight of Fernando’s words hit her. No interruptions. No distractions. Just me and papá. The idea should have been comforting, but instead, it magnified her anxiety. Inside, a staff member handed Fernando a black bag, which he opened to reveal a pristine racing suit. He then handed it to Jullianna with a proud smile.

“Here mi vida. Go change, the fun starts soon.”

Jullianna took the suit gingerly, its fabric heavier than she had expected. “Where should I, uh, change?”

Fernando pointed toward a nearby hallway. “Second door on the left. You’ll see the sign.”

Nodding, she turned and walked towards the changing room. Thankfully, she found it on the first try. When she opened the door, Jullianna was greeted by a spacious and clean room, with a row of lockers lining one wall with a long mirror on the other. Jullianna held up the racing suit, inspecting it like it was some kind of puzzle—zippers, straps, and padding made it all look more complex than it probably was, and she just sighed deeply.

“Calm down, Jullianna. Calm down.” she muttered to herself as she set the suit down on a nearby bench. “This is fine, okay? Totally fine.” she then pulled out her phone and opened youtube.

How to wear a racing suit. Jullianna quickly typed it into the search bar, scrolling through the results until she found a decent one—a step-by-step tutorial. The video began, and she started to follow along, pausing frequently to ensure she doesn’t miss anything. She slipped one leg in, then the other, zipping up the suit carefully.

“Okay, alright…not too shabby. I think I can be a racer someday, huh,” she murmured, smoothing down the fabric in front of the mirror. “Oh who am I even kidding?”

The gloves and boots were next, and Jullianna paused the video again to double check everything if she had put them on correctly. By the time she finished, she was feeling a mix of relief and pride. I did it. To be sure with everything, she turned back to the mirror again, doing a quick once-over. The suit fits perfectly, hugging her frame without being restrictive.

“And one last thing…” she clicked on another video, this time, it was titled karting for beginners. The tips were pretty basic—how to start, use the pedals, and steer, but even those felt overwhelming.

“The things that I go through.” Jullianna grumbled under her breath, closing the youtube app.

Satisfied that she was at least presentable, Jullianna took one last deep breath, patting her own shoulder, and whispered, “good luck and don’t die.”

Jullianna stepped onto the track, the warm afternoon now casting long shadows over the asphalt. Fernando stood nearby, adjusting his gloves, excitement unmistakable as he began to explain the basics of karting.

“Alright, Sofí, I know it’s been a while since you last karted, but you’ll pick it up quickly,” he said, voice light and encouraging. “It’s like riding a bike—you don’t forget.”

She nodded, forcing a confident smile. “Yeah…just like riding a bike,” she repeated, though her nerves were humming.

Fernando led her to the kart she would be driving. “I brought out your own kart, and checked it.” he said, patting the side affectionately.

As Fernando explained the controls, Jullianna focused intently, trying to absorb every word as much as possible. “I know it’s been a while, but just a refresher, this pedal is for the gas, this one for the break, and your grip should always be at nine o’clock and three o’clock. Always ease into the throttle—don’t slam it, and when you’re cornering, don’t break too hard, just enough to control the speed.”

“Yes, papá, don’t worry. I got it. It’s not like it’s my first time driving a kart,” she said, chuckling nervously as her heart was beating rapidly.

Fernando crouched beside Jullianna’s kart, inspecting it one last time. “I’ll go easy on you first,” he teased, flashing her a grin. “But don’t expect me to let you win that easily.”

Jullianna chuckled again, still nervous, as she climbed into the kart. She adjusted the seat and gripped the steering wheel, hand slightly getting all clammy. Fernando handed her a helmet, which she slipped on carefully, ensuring it fits snugly.

“Ready to beat your old man?” he asked, stepping back.

“Ready!” Jullianna replied, voice muffled by the helmet.

Fernando climbed into his own kart, matching the ones Jullianna was on, and started the engine with practiced ease. Jullianna followed his lead, turning on the power and feeling a thrill as the engine roared to life beneath her.

“Follow me for a few laps,” Fernando instructed over the headset built into their helmets. “Get a feel first of the track, and then we’ll race.”

Jullianna nodded, gripping the steering wheel tighter as she eased onto the track behind him. The kart felt different than she expected—lighter, faster, more responsive. Of course she wobbled slightly on the first corner, foot instinctively slamming on the brakes.

“Easy on the break,” Fernando’s voice came through, calm and steady. “Let the kart flow through the corner.”

“Right,” Jullianna muttered, adjusting her grip. She tried again, this time pressing the brakes more gently and allowing the kart to glide smoothly.

After a few laps around the track, Jullianna began to relax. The initial awkwardness fading as she found her rhythm, her confidence building with each turn. The sensation of speed was exhilarating, with the kart zipping along the track like an extension of her own body.

“Good job, Sofí!” Fernando praised. “You’re getting it.”

Jullianna couldn’t help but smile under her helmet. She admitted that she was really enjoying herself. Once Fernando was satisfied with her progress, he pulled over to the side of the track and gestured to her to do the same.

“Alright, now for the fun part,” he said, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“What’s that?” Jullianna asked, even if she already knew the answer.

“The race,” Fernando replied with a grin. “We’ll do three laps, and the winner gets bragging rights.”

“Bragging rights?” she echoed, laughing.

“Trust me, they’re worth it.” he replied. They both lined up at the starting line, with Fernando counting them off. “Three, two, one, go!”

Jullianna floored the gas pedal, the kart surging forward. Fernando quickly took the lead, as expected, with his kart weaving effortlessly through the first series of turns. Jullianna followed close behind, determined not to fall too far behind. She focused on her technique, remembering Fernando’s earlier advice. Brake gently, accelerate smoothly, and stay on the racing line. Then, by the second lap, she was gaining on Fernando, and he was clearly impressed.

She laughed, her nerves melting away in the heat of the competition. Jullianna took the next corner perfectly, closing the gap between them. On the final lap, she saw an opening on the inside of a tight turn. Summoning all of her courage, she took the risk, slipping past Fernando with a bold move. With the finish line just up ahead, Jullianna pushed the kart to its limit, crossing first by a fraction of a second.

As Jullianna rolled to a stop, she pulled off her helmet, cheeks flushed and heart racing. Fernando parked beside her, laughing as he removed his own helmet.

“Well done, mi vida! Can’t believe you beat your old man!” Fernando exclaimed, pride evident.

Jullianna grinned, trying to catch her breath. “I had a good teacher.”

Fernando just laughed at her reply, and pulled her into a quick hug. “That was impressive. I’ll have to step up my game next time, eh?”

Jullianna felt really proud of her accomplishment. She had managed to hold her own, and for a brief moment, she forgot all about her nerves and the pressure of pretending to be Sofia. For now, she was just a girl spending time and having fun with her father.

After the race, it had been decided to take a rest for a while, and now, Jullianna is currently crouched next to the kart, nodding along as Fernando patiently explained the mechanics of the engine. He was animated, gesturing as he described how the karts power translated to see its speed, his enthusiasm contagious.

“You see this part here? This regulates the throttle response,” he said, tapping the side of the kart with a wrench.

Jullianna nodded again, her focus intense. “Okay, got it,” she murmured.

Her mind was still processing the earlier laps and how much she had actually enjoyed the experience. But just as Fernando leaned in to point out another detail, a high pitched shriek shattered the air, causing both Jullianna and Fernando to freeze. They exchanged confused glances before turning toward the source of the commotion—a young woman. She ran towards them at full speed, her excitement evident.

“¡Fernando! Estás aquí!” she squealed, voice shrill as she closed the distance.

Before Fernando could react, the woman threw herself into his arms, wrapping them around his neck and planting kisses all over her face. Fernando looked momentarily startled before managing a polite laugh, gently easing the woman off of him.

“Stephanie,” he said, tone a mix of surprise and mild discomfort.

Jullianna blinked, mouth slightly agape as she watched the whole scene unfold, processing everything even. The woman—Stephanie, looked young, probably a few years older than herself, with long, perfectly styled hair, and an outfit that screamed designer labels, which were all common brands but would not see you wearing. Jullianna could immediately sense the tension in the air, especially when she caught a glimpse of Alejandra standing off to the side, expression cold and disapproving.

Stephanie had finally decided to step back, with her hands lingering on Fernando’s arm as she beamed up at him. “I had no idea you’d be here today! You didn’t tell me you were coming home!” she exclaimed, tone overly sweet to Jullianna’s liking.

“I wasn’t planning to,” Fernando replied with a small chuckle, stepping subtly away from her. “This was a last minute decision.”

Stephanie’s gaze shifted to Jullianna, her smile widening in a way that made Jullianna’s stomach churn. “And who’s this cute little girl?” she asked, voice dripping with curiosity.

Fernando turned to Jullianna, placing a hand on her shoulder. “This is Sofía,” he said proudly. “My daughter.”

“¡Ay dios mío!” Stephanie’s eyes widened in an exaggerated display of delight. “I’ve heard so much about you!” she gushed, stepping forward and extending a hand.

Jullianna forced a polite smile, shaking Stephanie’s hand briefly. “Nice to meet you,” she said, voice carefully neutral.

“You don’t know how much I’ve been wanting to meet you,” Stephanie continued, words spilling out in rapid succession. “Fernando talks about you all the time! I wanted to visit you this summer, but you were at camp, and—oh, you’re even gorgeous in person!”

Yeah, bet you did do that. Thanks for the compliment, I totally got it from both papá and mamá, but mostly mamá.

“Thanks,” Jullianna said simply, overwhelmed by the onslaught of words and overly saccharine tone. At this point, she doesn’t trust herself to say more.

As Stephanie continued to chatter, Jullianna glanced at Fernando, who looked slightly uncomfortable, and then at Alejandra, who stood with her arms crossed, her disapproval practically radiating.

“So, what are you two doing here? A little father and daughter bonding time?” Stephanie asked, eyes farting between them.

What do you think, Cruella?

“Yes,” Jullianna replied quickly, tone more firmer than she intended. “Papá and I are spending time together.”

“Qué lindo!” Stephanie cooed, completely ignoring the slight edge on Jullianna’s voice.

Stephanie turned back to Fernando, launching into a story about something that happened while he was away. Jullianna could feel her own patience wearing thin. The day had been going so well, and now, this woman—stranger, had swooped in and disrupted everything. She tried to tune out Stephanie’s really annoying voice, but the exaggerated laughter and overly familiar gestures were grating on her.

Finally, Jullianna couldn’t take anymore of it. She took a step back, clearing her throat. “Excuse me,” she said, tone polite but curt. “I need a moment.”

Fernando looked at her with mild concern. “Sofí, are you okay mi vida?”

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, forcing a small smile. “Just need some air.”

Without waiting for any response from Fernando, Jullianna turned and walked away, heading towards the quieter edge of the circuit. Despite walking farther away from them, she could still hear Stephanie’s annoying voice in the background, but it all soon faded as Jullianna put distance between herself and the group.

Upon reaching a shaded spot near a row of trees, Jullianna let out a deep sigh, sat down criss crossed and arms folded to her chest, and leaned back on the tree. The frustration bubbled inside her. This day was supposed to be about her and Fernando, a rare chance to bond with her papá, and now it felt like she was competing for his own father’s attention.

The sound of approaching footsteps broke her thoughts. Turning her head slightly, Jullianna saw Alejandra making her way over, her expression was soft but tinged with concern. Alejandra stopped beside her, tilting her head to study her closely.

“¿Estás bien, Sofí?” Alejandra asked, voice gentle.

Jullianna hesitated, glancing back towards the circuit where Fernando and Stephanie’s figures were still visible in the distance.

“I don’t know,” she muttered, word slipping out before she could stop them. She sighed heavily, deciding to just let it all out. “Actually, no. I’m not okay.”

Alejandra’s brows furrowed. “Is it Stephanie?”

She nodded, voice growing more animated as she began to explain. “She just…she just ruined everything. This was supposed to be papá and I’s day, and then that woman shows up out of nowhere, clinging to papá like some leech, acting like she owns the place. I don’t even know who she is in our lives, but I can tell that she’s not even genuine.”

Alejandra nodded slowly, lips pressing into a thin line. “I thought you might feel this way,” she said quietly. After a moment of hesitation, she took a deep breath.

“Stephanie,” Alejandra started, “is someone your papá met at a charity gala a few months ago. She was very persistent, made sure to stay in his orbit, always showing up where she was. At first, I thought it was just a coincidence, but it became clear to me that she was doing all of it on purpose.”

Jullianna’s eyes narrowed, her grip tightening on her crossed arms.

“She began to visit the house not long after. Always unannounced, always with some excuse. She claimed she wanted to get to know the family better, but I could see through her act,” Alejandra continued, tone growing sharper. “She’s very good at pretending to be sweet, but underneath all that makeup and designer clothes…Está podrida hasta el fondo, mi chica. A manipulative woman who only cares about herself.”

Jullianna’s jaw clenched as Alejandra’s words sank in. “Does papá even know all about this?” she asked carefully, though a part of her already suspected the answer.

Alejandra shrugged, shaking her head. “Your papá’s not blind, but he can be too trusting. That woman really does know how to pull someone in, but I see right through her. She’s only after what she can gain from being with your papá—money, status, connections. Todo eso. Your papá is a kind man, but that makes him vulnerable to people like Stephanie.”

Jullianna blinked, she was stunned into silence. Her mind raced with questions, but one thing Alejandra said suddenly clicked in her brain. “Wait a minute. Alejandra, how old is she?”

Alejandra hesitated before answering. “Veintiocho,” she said, tone casual, as if trying to downplay it.

“What?!” Jullianna’s reaction was immediate, her voice was loud enough to make a few nearby birds flutter away. “That woman is twenty-eight?! She’s old enough to be my sister!”

“Yes, exactly.” Alejandra couldn’t help but smirk at Jullianna’s sudden outburst. “And she behaves like a spoiled child, that’s why I don’t trust her. Everything about her is calculated, from her clothes to the way she speaks. Esa mujer sabe jugar el juego.”

Jullianna felt her blood boiling now, anger mixing with her earlier disappointment. “And she’s been coming here? While I was at camp?”

Alejandra nodded again, folding her arms. “Almost every week. She claimed it was to ‘support’ your father, but I know better. That woman wants to attach herself to everything, and she’s made it clear she’ll do whatever it takes.”

Jullianna then looked back towards the circuit, where Stephanie was now all over Fernando, laughing at something her papá had said. The sight made her stomach churn.

“I can’t believe this,” she muttered, voice tight with frustration. “Todo el día está arruinado. I don’t even want to be here anymore.”

“I know it’s frustrating, mi niña,” Alejandra placed a reassuring hand on Jullianna’s shoulder. “But don’t let her ruin your time with your papá. That woman thrives on attention, if you ignore her and focus on what matters, she’s defenseless against you.”

Jullianna nodded slowly, though her anger and disappointment still burned in her chest. She looked back at the circuit, her mood now completely soured.

“I just want to go home,” she muttered. “I’m done with today.”

Alejandra sighed, giving Jullianna’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Come on, let’s head back. Necesitas descansar. Don’t worry about her, cariño. She’s not worth your energy.”

The journey back to their home in Madrid was subdued, the tension almost palpable in the air. Jullianna sat in the backseat, her face turned toward the window as the evening sun cast streaks of orange and gold across the countryside. Fernando glanced at her through the rearview mirror a few times, concern etched on his face, but he chose not to push it. Jullianna’s silence spoke volumes, and he didn’t want to risk saying something that might upset her further.

Alejandra, who was seated beside Jullianna, kept her eyes at the window, hands folded neatly on her lap. She had already decided that this was something Jullianna needed to process on her own. When they finally pulled into the driveway, Fernando parked the car and turned to Jullianna.

“Sofia, we were supposed to visit your abuelo and abuela today, but maybe we can do it some other time, sí?” his voice was soft, almost tentative.

Jullianna just gave Fernando a small nod, gaze still fixed on the floor of the car as she unbuckled her seatbelt. She then murmured, “okay,” before slipping out of the car and heading towards the house, with Fernando and Alejandra following suit.

Fernando sighed as he watched Jullianna’s retreating figure. “¿Qué le pasa?” he asked, turning to Alejandra. “She was fine earlier. Did something happen that I didn’t see?”

Alejandra hesitated, feigning ignorance. “I’m not sure, Fernando. Maybe she’s just tired, you know how moody teenagers can be—moods change so quickly. Give her some time, I’m sure she’ll feel better by tomorrow.”

Fernando nodded, though his worry didn’t dissipate. “Maybe I pushed her too much today,” he said, almost to himself. “It was supposed to be fun, but…”

“No, no, tranquilo,” Alejandra interjected, tone firm but kind. “This isn’t your fault. She just needs space right now, don’t overthink it.”

He ran a hand through his hair, brows furrowed. “I hate seeing her like this. She was smiling earlier, laughing even. Now…” he trailed off, shaking his head.

Alejandra offered him a reassuring smile. “She’ll be okay, Fernando. Trust me. Déjala descansar esta noche, ¿de acuerdo?”

As Alejandra turned to leave, Fernando called after her. “Wait, Alejandra, I won’t be home tomorrow. I have some things to take care of, but I’ll be back by the evening.”

Alejandra nodded. “Alright. I’ll take care of things here, don’t worry.”

“And…” Fernando hesitated for a moment. “Can you cook Sofia’s favorite meal tomorrow for breakfast? Maybe that will cheer her up a bit.”

She smiled. “Por supuesto, consideralo hecho.”

Fernando sighed, leaning back against the wall as Alejandra left the room. Despite her reassurances, a pang of guilt still lingered in his chest.

The morning sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting soft patterns across the bedroom walls as Jullianna slowly blinked awake. She lay still for a moment, cocooned in the quiet of the house. The event of yesterday lingered in her mind, a heavy weight pressing down on her chest. She groaned softly, pulling the blanket over her head.

A sharp knock at the door startled her. “Sofia,” Alejandra’s voice called out, light but firm. “Breakfast is ready. Come down soon, okay?”

Jullianna exhaled deeply and sat up, the blanket falling to her lap. She stretched, joints cracking softly in the stillness. After taking a few moments to gather herself, she slipped out of bed and padded over the door.

When she got down, the house was quiet, eerily so, as she made her way downstairs. The faint aroma of freshly toasted bread and coffee drifted from the kitchen. Jullianna noticed Fernando’s absence immediately and glanced at Alejandra, who was tidying the kitchen counters.

“Alejandra, where’s papá?” she asked, voice soft.

Alejandra turned, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “He left early this morning. Said he had something important to take care of, but he’ll be back by evening.”

Jullianna just nodded slowly, her gaze drifting to the table. The breakfast spread was simple yet inviting—fresh bread, tortilla española, slices of jamón, pan con tomate, and a small dish of olives. It was distinctly Spanish, and Jullianna assumed that it was all Sofia’s favorite. She sat down without a word, her stomach grumbling faintly.

As she began to eat, she glanced at Alejandra. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

Alejandra shook her head with a small smile. “I’ve already had my breakfast, chica. This is all for you.”

Jullianna nodded again, her focus returning to her plate. The silence was almost oppressive, broken only by the gentle clinking of pans as Alejandra washed up. Then, after breakfast, Jullianna decided she needed a distraction, something to clear her head. So she went back to her room and rummaged through her suitcase, pulling out a simple one-piece swimsuit. Over it, she threw on an oversized shirt that fell past her thighs, providing just enough coverage to make her comfortable.

The pool had been a quiet haven during her stay, and she hoped for the same serenity this time. As she descended the stairs, her mood soured instantly. Stephanie was in the living room. She was perched on the edge of a plush armchair, scrolling through her phone, legs crossed elegantly. The sound of her clicking heels on the floor must have been what Jullianna heard earlier.

Alejandra, who was arranging some magazines on the coffee table, caught Jullianna’s eye and gave her a look, one that said, I don’t know why she’s here, I didn’t invite her. Jullianna sighed, shoulders slumping slightly. Stephanie, of course, noticed her immediately and squealed in delight.

“¡Sofía!” Stephanie practically jumped out of the armchair, her excitement so exaggerated that Jullianna instinctively covered her ears. “Oh my goodness, I was hoping I’d run into you!”

Jullianna fought all of her urges to roll her eyes. Instead, she forced a polite smile. “If you’re here for papá, you’re out of luck,” she said, tone flat. “Papá won’t be home until this evening.”

Stephanie blinked, her smile faltering slightly. “Oh, well, I didn’t know that.” she quickly recovered, brushing a strand of perfectly styled hair behind her ear. “But that’s fine! I can wait. We can hangout, just the two of us for the meantime.”

Jullianna froze for a split second, Stephanie’s words sending a chill down her spine. “Je vais laisser tomber,” she muttered quietly under her breath, turning on her heel and heading for the pool.

Behind her, she heard the unmistakable sound of clicking heels. Jullianna groaned inwardly as she realized Stephanie was following her. She stopped abruptly at the door leading to the pool, turning to face the woman.

“What are you doing?” Jullianna questioned, trying not to sound snappy.

Stephanie gave her a puzzled look. “I’m coming with you, of course! It’ll be so fun! We can sunbathe, maybe take some selfies.”

Jullianna stared at her for a long moment before sighing heavily. “Sure,” she said finally, tone dripping with sarcasm. “Fun.”

Without waiting for a response, she pushed open the door and stepped outside, the warm sun hitting her face. The pool glistened invitingly, but the thought of spending even a second more with Stephanie was enough to sap any excitement she had felt earlier.

“Ay dios mío,” Jullianna muttered to herself as she still heard Stephanie’s heels clicking against the patio. “La journée va être longue.”

Jullianna placed her towel neatly on one of the sun beds, the fabric a stark white against the bright blue of the pool tiles. She adjusted it carefully, ensuring no corner was left out of place, before tugging off the oversized shirt she wore over her swimsuit. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Stephanie perched on a nearby sun bed, watching her with curious intensity that made Jullianna’s skin crawl.

With deliberate calm, Jullianna folded her shirt and set it next to her towel, ignoring the scrutiny. Without a word, she walked to the edge of the pool, took a quick breath, and leapt in, her body slicing through the water before surfacing with an intentionally big splash. The spray of cool water arched through the air, some of it landing on Stephanie, who let out an exaggerated squeal.

“¡Ay!” Stephanie cried, jerking backward as though she had been doused with a bucket of water. She reached for a towel, dabbing delicately at her face and arms.

Jullianna resurfaced, brushing her wet hair out of her eyes and blinking innocently. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” she said, voice dripping with mock concern. “I didn’t mean to splash you, Steph.”

Stephanie glanced at her, the corners of her mouth pulled into a strained smile. “It’s okay, cariño,” she said, though her tight grip on the towel showed her irritation. “Really.”

Jullianna suppressed a smirk, knowing full well that Stephanie was seething because one of her designer clothes was splashed with water. With a nonchalant shrug, she swam towards one of the floaties bobbing near the middle of the pool. She grabbed it, resting her arms on the inflatable surface as she turned to face Stephanie.

Stephanie had settled back on her sun bed, legs crossed elegantly as she faced Jullianna directly. Her eyes scanned Jullianna for a moment before she began to speak.

“So, Fernando had told me so much about you,” Stephanie said, tone saccharine. “I had no idea how close you two were.”

Jullianna raised a brow, tilting her head slightly as she tread water. “Well,” she said, a faint smile playing on her lips, “that’s because we’re each other’s halves.”

Stephanie blinked, caught off guard by the response, but quickly recovered. She leaned forward, clasping her hands together. “That’s sweet,” she said. “I mean, it’s obvious how much he loves you. He talks about you all the time.”

Jullianna hummed, the sound of it almost dismissive. She rested her chin on the floatie, watching Stephanie with a calm that belied her irritation. Stephanie’s gaze flickered briefly, confidence faltering for a moment before she plastered on another smile.

“Actually,” she began, tone light, “while you were away at camp, your papá took me karting. It was so much fun, and—well, I hope you don’t mind, but he let me use your kart.”

The faintest flicker of annoyance flashed across Jullianna’s face, but she quickly masked it. “Oh, that’s fine,” she said breezily, waving a hand in the water. “It’s pretty normal for him to let someone ride my kart.”

Stephanie smiled, seemingly appeased, but Jullianna was not done. She let her lips curl into a sly smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re actually number twenty-nine on his list, you know.”

“What…list?” her smile faltered.

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Jullianna said, feigning surprise. She propped herself up on the floatie, her tone conspiratorial. “It’s just this thing papá does. Whenever someone new comes into his life, he always takes them to his circuit. It’s kind of his way of testing people, I guess. There was Paula before you, and then Francesca before her…honestly, I’ve lost track of the names. But if I’m not mistaken, you’re number twenty-nine, and twenty-nine is a lucky number.”

Stephanie stared at her, expressing a mix of confusion and growing irritation. “I…didn’t realize,” she said slowly, voice tight.

“Yeah, it’s just one of his quirks. I guess he really likes seeing how people handle themselves at the circuit, well in life, generally. Some do great, others…not so much.” Jullianna shrugged, pushing off the floatie and swimming lazily towards the pool’s edge. “I’m sure you’ve made your mark since papá decided to keep you around. But I always say, it’s none of my business if a man his age wants to make a fool out of himself. Although, maybe he’s changed and you’re the real thing, Steph.”

Pulling herself out of the pool, Jullianna stood, water dripping from her as she grabbed her own towel. She dried herself off slowly, the teasing smile never leaving her face as she glanced back at Stephanie.

“Oh, one more thing, Steph,” Jullianna said casually as she flung the towel over her shoulder. “If you’re planning on being with him in the long run, you’ll have to try a little harder. Papá’s got a pretty high standard when it comes to people he lets stick around.”

Stephanie’s mouth opened slightly, as though she wanted to respond, but Jullianna didn’t give her the chance.

“Well, it has been a pleasure meeting you, but I’ve got some things to do,” Jullianna said, turning towards the house. “Enjoy the pool, Steph. It’s all yours. Toodles!”

taglist : @qghosty , @seonghwaexile , @linnygirl09 , @tallrock35

[puppeat123]

Homicipher

GN! MC x Mr Crawling

QUICK! ONESHOT

Clean up 🧼 Mr.crawling Fluff☁️

Alright it’s been a while since I have written any type of story or anything so have mercy it might be really bad! Anyways I appreciate yall and I hope yall enjoy!

The bold and crossed out words are the other language 🌀

Slight mention of nudity, SOAP JUMP SCARE,(Jkjk)

Quick note: I have not edited not proof read this so we ball sorry for the grammar errors in advance!

Since being in the this under world kinda place had been a lot it gotten easier tho. Over time you made friends with the residents. Although some of them you still haven’t quite gotten along with due to their odd or erratic behavior.

Mr crawling has been making it easier to survive through this places. He has been your best friend and companion through it all. Helping your survive encounters with Mr stitch, dodging Mr Scarletta who is still trying to find you.

However it’s been a while since you’ve done any kinda of self care and a good shower . (cute girl/guy)

Your hair felt oily and grimy, your skin looked like your rolled in the dirt, and your skin looked dry and ashy. You can’t remember when you let yourself get that bad,covered in blood and dirt.

Mr Silvair had a bathroom right? He has a whole living room type thing.

You felt a small tug on your rain coat. Mr crawling stared up at you looking a bit confused.

“Look?”

You’ve been staring at yourself so long in the mirror you completely forgot about him!

“Me look me!”

Mr crawling nodded in agreement.

“Pretty pretty!”

He can be so sweet but who knows maybe his saying that as a friend? The relationship between the bother of you wasn’t ever clear. He was ghost not human so a lot of things are bound to be different when to comes to romance.

“Together find Mr Silvair”

And off both of you went. On a small but important journey trying to find the doctor.

After a while you found his home. Knocking and pecking in hoping he was home.

“Hello!” You waved at the doctor before coming in.

“Hello”

The resident was always so kind when he wasn’t trying to use you as a lab rat.

“Big container water have?” You asked the ghost doctor. He had like a whole mini house in here.

“Yes. Water container there” He pointed to the room next to his lab.

“Thank you!”

You stepped into the room Mr crawling followed you in.

You hesitated for a second. Should I let him in? I mean he is literally just like a puppy he won’t be anything weird right? Now thinking about it has he ever taken a shower??Then again his a ghost who knows.

You sigh letting him in the room. Closing the door behind him. You look at the container it was almost the same size and a tube or maybe even bigger! The water was a nice temperature too not to warm nor cold.

“Body get out clothes”

You motioned to the ghost while taking your coat off. Mr crawling kinda looked confused after the request, seeing you take your clothes off he seemed a bit nervous but did so anyways. You try and not look out of respect. Since it was a huge tub of water a bath wasn’t enough you needed a shower. You found small chairs and placed it down in front of the tall man.

“Chair sit”

You instructed him.Now thinking about it taking your coat off was a bad ideas cause your clothes are going to get wet. Well you can always call in the bride lady. She was always so nice!

You found a bar of soap still in its box a while back while searching through ruins looking for something to remind you of home.

You started scrubbing at his back, Mr crawling first seemed tense but then started to enjoy it just happy to be there with you. He loved you washing his hair tho.

Once he was done it was your turn your told him to face the other way while you undressed cause it was a little awkward he was staring at you while you where undressing. He doesn’t have eyes but his stare was to much.

“Me want help! Cute cute me help!”

You sigh sitting down on your chair best to him and hand him the bar of soap and your rag in order to clean you up. He started scrubbing away the same way you did to him. It was really relaxing until he started to get to your front area in which you tried to do yourself without much luck.

Mr crawling was going to make sure to leave you squeaky clean like you left him! Plus you did him the favor of making him clean he will make sure to return of course!

He didn’t notice how your face was on fire, and you were thankful cause he was just trying to be helpful!

After washing off the soap and feeling nice and clean. You pulled out the lotion you found in the rubble. It was unscented so it worked perfect for the face.

You started rubbing the lotion down on Mr crawling. Starting from his hands to his whole arms and the up his neck and face.

His face trying to bury him self in your palms with the a big smile laughing to himself.

“Me like pet more”

You laughed he was truly enjoying him self. You made sure to careful rub in the lotion in his face taking in all the lines and was his face makes.

“Me like you”

His so silly he likes a lot of people you doubt he truly knows what romance is right?

He placed his hand on top of yours once the landed back on his cheeks.

“Me like you many”

You paused making sure your ear have not deceived you. Dose he understand the implications??

Mr crawling shyly gets closer to you holding you palm against his face.

“You want my [][][]?”

This a new word for sure, you haven’t heard it but non the less you wanna make sure you understand.

“[][][]?”

You repeated after him, he nodded a dusty pink shade spreading across his face.

What was he saying was he implying what you think he was?? But why now out of all places, literally sitting butt booty naked in a room after a shower is crazy work.

“Together? [][][]!”

He seemed a bit nervous trying to explain.

“Yes. Want you partner”

Mr crawling tackled you into a hug landing on top of you causing you to fall back and slide a bit further away cause of the lotion and water mix.

So there you lied naked being hugged by the huge man who can’t stop laughing and holding you tighter while rubbing his face against your neck. You laughed along with him happy knowing your feelings were reciprocated. You couldn’t help but kiss his cheek. In which he copied peppering your face all over with small kisses. This nice but it was getting cold with a slight warmth that the ghost could hold.

After a bit, both of you being nice and clean with new clothes given by Mr.bride.

“Cute cute!”

Mr crawling exclames seeing the new outfit given to you no noticing his own outfit matching your own.

“Thank you”

You did Mr.crawlings hair putting it into a ponytail at first ten braiding into to long braids and wrapping them in like pig tails so they won’t get in his way while crawling.

It took a while but once you were done he seemed to fall asleep on your lap. Mr.Crawling started speaking in almost whispered tone. Which you got closer to hear him.

“Me like you lots. You partner me. Together.”

You smiled softly.

“Yes together me you. Partner”

[hyunebunx]

saw the soft thoughts post and i hope i’m not late >.< please forgive my typos or grammatical errors love i just woke up 🥹

soooo imagine a lazy saturday morning with hyunjin where you both just wanted to sleep in and cuddle on your shared bet until late in the morning. apparently you had to force yourself to get up because you were getting hungry and hyunjin—being a clingy boyfriend—is sticking to you like glue, and be like “noooooo don’t go!!!” because he doesn’t want to get out of bed but you had to drag him up. he became a pouty baby while being clingyyyy maybe a backhug when you were cooking, a stolen kiss when you were about to eat, helping you wash the dishes but he put some soap bubbles on the tip of your nose, asked you to go out and the spend the rest of the day with him outside maybe stroll around the city, an art museum date, go to a café and watch him sketch/paint you~

ughh to be loved by an artist bro i’m still half asleep so i hope i’m making sense... anyway have a good one deni ! 😽🩷

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff and a loooot of kissing, you've been warned lol

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: my love <3 this is the cutest idea ever!! thank you so so much for trusting me to write it hehe <3 listen, this got quite steamy in the middle, idk what happened i blacked out fgsdgkj can't help myself when it comes to this man apparently. anywayss, hope you'll enjoy it <333

Mornings spent sleeping in with the love of your life, all cuddle up and intertwined, were truly your absolute favorite, a blessing you didn’t take for granted. You were both busy people, with busy lives that accommodated one another like it was the most natural thing in the world, fitting together like the last two pieces needed to complete the puzzle which revealed your love story.

Hyunjin was a heavy sleeper, clinging to every thread, no matter how thin, that transported him to dreamland to rest a little more. Just five more minutes, that turned into ten, fifteen, which ended up stretching into half an hour on good days. On the bad ones, when he was more tired than usual, nothing could get Hyunjin out of bed before the afternoon rolled around. You understood – he needed his rest – but it didn’t make missing him and his bright smile any easier.

You never knew you could miss someone even while they were dozing off next to you, blissfully unaware of how your heart almost jumped out of your chest to slip under his shirt just to feel his beating, desperately searching for confirmation he felt the same. And he did, of course he did, how could he not when your name and sweet face were constantly spinning around in his mind like some sort of live wallpaper, making him unable to concentrate even on simple tasks?

Though right now, neither of you was sleeping, cuddling to Hyunjin’s chest with one leg over his lap as you caught him up on the latest work gossip. You’ve been awake for almost two hours now and for once, the universe seemed to be on your side as no sunray managed to peek through the small crack left in the curtains, allowing you to continue lying around in peace.

“Anyway, so the printer caught on fire and that was Kim’s last straw. She threw all the papers on the floor and then proceeded to plop down on them and cry. I felt so bad.”

Despite his empathetic nature, Hyunjin lets out a short laugh, voice still husky and laced with sleep as his fingers tangled in your hair. “How did she even manage to do that?”

“It wasn’t her fault.” You yawn, hiding your face in his chest briefly. “Jay used the printer last to scan pictures of his cat’s toe beans and I guess some fur got stuck in there and ruined everything.”

He slowly shakes his head, whistling. “See, that’s why I’m a dog person.”

Prompting your chin on his chest, you look at him with raised eyebrows. “Ok Mr. meows at cats because he wants to get into their good graces.”

“That was one time!”

You giggle and he joins soon after, staring deeply into your eyes until the laughter dies down and every thought leaves your mind like it wasn’t even there to begin with. Dark eyes dart between yours and your lips, subconsciously licking his plush bottom one and telling you exactly where his train of thought has stopped. Patience was not one of Hyunjin’s virtues, so the hand in your hair moves lower to cup the back of your neck, bringing you closer as you quickly adjust, both hands sprawling on his chest to help you lean down and finally connect your lips.

The kiss is slow, lips merging perfectly as neither of you is in any rush, content to take the time to taste each other. However, it quickly gets messy, tongues meeting and complicating the familiar dance, making it hot and breathy but oh so delicious. You’d be lying if you didn’t admit you’ve been waiting for this ever since he woke up, constantly thinking about his rosy lips and driving yourself crazy as whatever he was saying faded in and out of hazy memory.

Hyunjin kissed you like no other, like kissing was an art he invented just to practice on you. One he managed to master throughout the years of your relationship but couldn’t get enough of, obsessed with the idea of improving and finding another unexplored corner he could take over and claim as his own.

A cold hand slides easily under your top, gripping at your waist in an effort to bring you closer, almost causing your arms to give out. You break away from the kiss and Hyunjin whines, displeased but still helps you settle on top of him more comfortably, guiding your body as you straddle his hips.

This new position allows for better access to what you’re both desiring, with Hyunjin wasting no more time in bringing you back down again, capturing your lips. With both hands on exposed thighs, the shirt he gave you to sleep in barely covering anything, Hyunjin loses himself in the taste of you, licking into your mouth and lightly biting on your bottom lip as your hands move lower over his stomach, needing to discard him of the annoying clothing.

You make to pull away but his lips follow, causing him to sit up and move one of his hands on the small of your back for support, not allowing you to slip away from him. With a mind of their own, your hands quickly abandon his shirt and move around his shoulders, meeting at his nape to deepen the kiss and lick at his bottom lip which he appreciates by the groan he lets out.

You feel him everywhere, hands groping and squeezing every bit of your body in the exact way he knew you loved, turning you to putty into his hold. By now, his dark hair is a mess from all the pulling – your fingers needed something to anchor onto.

“Hyun.” You inhale deeply, his lips moving down your jaw, restless.

“Yeah, baby?” He mumbles, barely hearing you.

“Breakfast.” You gasp out as he lightly bites the skin, quick to soothe it with his tongue. “I’m hungry.” Mostly true, you’ve been lying here for hours after all, who wouldn’t be hungry? But also because you knew if you didn’t stop him now, neither of you would get to eat anything before dinner time rolls around.

Hyunjin pauses, hot breath fanning your neck as he slowly tilts his head to look at you, his wet and swollen lips distracting. He’s speechless for a moment, almost like he can’t believe you interrupted him, like a child whose favorite toy is abruptly taken away. When it clicks in his head you are actually serious, Hyunjin barely registers the way you peck his lips as he rolls his eyes.

“Wow, ok connoisseur of romance. What a way to ruin the moment.”

You giggle as he gently lays you down on your back, knowing he could never be truly upset, no matter what kind of stunt you pull. He was most likely thankful you said something, surely hungry himself.

Scooting towards the end of the bed, your feet barely get to touch the hardwood floor before Hyunjin’s arms circle your middle once again, pulling you to his warm chest without a word.

“No, don’t go!” He whines, burring his head in your shoulder in protest.

Your heart squeezes in your chest, pounding from all the love you carried for your other half, the man you couldn’t imagine life without.

“Baby.” You coo, softly running your fingers over his hands on your stomach in a way to coax him. “How am I supposed to cook us breakfast otherwise?”

Hyunjin sighs, squeezing you to his chest for two more heartbeats before releasing his hold and allowing you to stand up. When you turn to face him, one of his big hands has already brought yours to his lips to plant a feather like kiss on your knuckles.

“Don’t go without me.” He mumbles, pouting slightly, and you almost explode like a piñata, staining him with your love and adoration that will surely trap him in this apartment for days trying to get it out. Not like he’d ever mind if that were possible, proudly showing off and talking about your feelings for him to anyone who’d listen, right after talking their ear off about the love he holds for you.

So, that morning, you waddle together to the kitchen like two penguins with Hyunjin refusing to stop hugging you from behind even when you started cooking. And after that, spoon feeding you on the counter and forgetting all about his needs until you threatened to take away his cuddles.

He caved in immediately.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Continuity Error 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you are the resident tech and fly on the wall, until you're not. (short!reader)

Characters: Thor, this reader is known as Stormie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

Everything is neat and tidy and separate. Like everything in your life. The bento box divides rice from even slices of grilled chicken, another unit of edamame and some greens in a section of their own. Right on top of your desk with the pen cup of black pens only and the organizer with post-its sorted by colour and size, along with a tin of mint and a single notebook. Orderly.  

Unlike the rabble around you. The office is chaos. It’s noisy. It’s annoying. 

It’s not where you wanted to be in life but you never really figured out the alternative. You just try to get by. Wake up, go to work, do your job, go home, eat. Everything is precise and routine. You don’t miss a beat. Just keep going. 

That day is no different than the ones before. Fefe makes eyes at Mr. Odinson as he walks in with one of his clients. They’re all the same. Sometimes you suspect they aren’t there for business with the way they chat up the assistants. It’s not your concern; you only care when they open a spam link or forget to plug in their monitor. Work is simple. 

You mind business and people mind theirs. They don’t remember you’re there until they need help. They don’t make small talk. You don’t either. What good is that? Just wasting time when you can fix their problem in less than a minute. You learned your lesson when that guy in the glasses keep winking. 

You chew your chicken. You forgot lemon juice in your sauce. A rare oversight. 

You take small bites. A bite of chicken. Then rice. Then edamame. And finally greens. It’s a parade of flavours. You keep the order; chicken, rice, veg... 

When you finish, you get up with the lid and reusable cutlery, stacked on top of the container, and go to the break room to rinse it all out. You take your tip; washing each corner and crevice. You dry the pieces thoroughly and put it all back together. 

“That’s an interesting container,” a deep voice startles you from the doorway. 

You turn as you click the lid firmly into place. You put the container against your chest, hiding it. It’s him. The big burly blond that runs the floor. You wiggle your nose. A compulsion you have yet to unlearn. 

“Sir.” 

“May I see?” He asks. 

As he comes closer you tense up. You don’t like people touching your stuff. You’ll have to resanitize it all and your hands. 

“Unless you’d rather I not,” Mr. Odinson relents and stops a few feet from you, “I only came for a top up.” 

He doffs his mug. The stains of his early brew still around the brim. He goes to the sink and rinses it out. He doesn’t scrub or soap it before he wipes it dry quickly and puts it on the tray of the single-serve machine. That’s exactly why you don’t touch the coffee station. You bring a thermos with cinnamon tea; it keeps warm all day long. 

You nod and head for the door.  

“Are you the replacement?” He asks. “I recall you looking much different.” 

You stop and shake your head, “tech, sir.” 

“Ah, yes, I remember now. The one in the corner,” he says as he clucks and squints at the selection of boxes. “Would you a recommendation?” 

You waver. You just want to go to your desk. Your nose twitches again. 

“I don’t drink coffee.” 

“Tea? My brother is preferential to it as well.” 

You’ve dealt with his brother. Down a few floors. Not very pleasant but asks a lot less questions. 

You nod. He looks at you and brushes his fingertips along his golden beard. He’s a very large man but you suppose next to you, anyone is. 

“I should go back to my desk.” 

“And who says so? I am the boss, so far as I know,” he muses. 

You pause before you can flee. Your nose wiggles. His blue eyes catch on the movement. You stare back, unsure what to do. 

“Hm, this Colombian roast looks interesting,” he plucks out a pod. You stand there blankly. You don’t like this. He’s making you feel dumb. He’s getting in the way of your routine. “Are you available to have a look at my computer? It seems I’m having some error with the secure connection. That is, if you can make time for me?” 

As the machine grinds loudly to push your shoulders back. “It is my job, yes.” 

“Perfect, go ahead and wait for me in my office,” he says coolly, his focus on the spout. 

You retreat through the door and flit over to your desk. You open your drawer and shove the container in your bag. You turn and look over at his office door. You slowly make your way between the desks toward it.  

You pause across from the name placque on the door and glance over as Sierra watches you. You cross and push the handle down. You enter warily. You leave the door open and near his large desk. You go around and roll his chair aside. You hate touching other peoples’ things; you prefer to remote in. 

You stand as you wake up the computer. You step back and wait. It’s locked. That’s good. You shouldn’t leave your device accessible. 

Odinson enters with a waft of coffee. He smiles at you and your nose scrunches. “You will need to sign in and you can show me the problem.” You step back. 

He comes around the desk and sets the cup down carelessly. A splash overflows the brim and leaks onto the desk, the coaster forgotten by his mousepad. He pulls his chair closer and sits in it heavily, the wheels squeaking. 

It takes him several tries to login as his thick fingers are almost too big for the keys. When he’s in, he clicks around. You watch him bring up the server portal. He types again. 

“Sir,” you say. “The two-factor authentication requires you to confirm on a secondary device. You need to type in sms and it will send a passcode to your phone or whatever else you’ve set up with the system.” 

“Ah!” He snaps his fingers. “I knew it would be obvious. Clever rabbit.” He pops his index up. 

“Problem solved,” you say and check your watch. Lunch is over. 

“Thank you,” he beams. 

You leave him without another word. You find it hard to believe he was locked out when the security protocol has been in place for well over a year. He needs it every day so why is it suddenly an issue? You shrug. 

Like you said, problem solved. You can go back to your corner. 

[storiesaplenty]

Gym Teacher Riley (18+)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f/Reader

Call of Duty Masterlist

Back to School Masterlist

Part 1 (18+) Principal Price

This has not been proofread. Please enjoy, though.

Warnings: swearing. Unprotected sex. P in v. Mention of crying and bj, but nothing descriptive.

WC: 1137

Gif does not belong to me: @ineylesian

©️ storiesaplenty 2024: Do not repost or translate my work. This is the only place I post my work.

Summary: Gym Teacher Riley has heard all about you from Price & Soap before he even met you. Now he is on detention duty, & your classroom is right across from the detention room. You need help with something, & he shows you how to fix the problem. You end up thanking him in your own way.

Gym teacher Simon wasn't at all happy about having to cover detention after school, but it was his turn, and besides, your room was right across the hall, and he could see inside of as you have kept your door open.

When he got the text from Soap, saying that Price was right about the new teacher, he knew he had to have a taste for himself.

Even more so after Price told them all about you during their weekly poker games.

"Fucking tightest pussy I've ever been in. She was so responsive to my touch, and fuck me lads, the taste of her pussy." He licked his lips to let us know that he wanted another taste.

I was pulled out of my daydream of her looking up at me, with my cock shoved down her throat, and tears spilling down her cheeks by the sound of the bell ringing.

"You can all go, and I don't want to see any of you here for the rest of the month." The teenage shits were already out of the room before I could finish my sentence.

I stood up and grabbed my stuff, with my back turned to the door when I heard a light knock.

"I'm busy." I told them, without even turning around.

"I know you want to go home Mr. Riley." I turned around at the sound of my name, looking at her as she stood there, nervously.

"But I need help with one thing." I placed my bag back down on my desk, grumbling about how I would help her.

She sat at her desk, and opened up the program which for the week grades.

"I did what Principal Price said to do, but it keeps saying error, and I would like to get this done before I go home for the weekend."

"Show me." I placed my hand against the desk and leaned down to watch as she showed me what she is doing.

Everything seemed to be correct until almost the last step.

"Here, let me show you." I placed my hand over her hand, on the mouse and showed her which button to hit to make it be entered properly.

◆

"You are a lifesaver Mr Riley." My cock twitched in my pants at her calling me that.

"It was nothing. Now it is time to go home if you don't need anything else." I turned my head to look at her, our faces extremely close.

I just had to move just a tiny bit and I would be kissing her.

"No, thank you." She said politely, but her lips touched mine when she said that, and something seemed to snap in me.

I smashed my mouth against hers, waiting for her to slap me, but she just moaned into the kiss, her arms wrapping around my neck as I picked her up and placed her on the same desk which our boss, and my good friend fucked her on, less that two weeks ago.

Her hands went straight for my belt and started to undo it and pull it threw the loops.

Most gym teachers wear their gym clothes all day, I am not one of them.

My belt was tossed to the side, and I couldn't wait any longer, as my cock is aching so much being stuffed inside my jeans.

I pushed my jeans and boxers down just enough for my cock to be freed.

My ego swelled as she finally saw my cock for the first time.

"It isn't going to fit." Was all she said as I placed my cock at the entrance of her pussy, rubbing it up and down to collect her juices.

"I'll make it fit little dovie. Don't you worry about that."

I started to push in, watching her face for any pain, but fuck, Price was right.

Her pussy is so fucking tight that it felt like she was trying to strangle my cock.

She placed her face in my neck, and softly moaned my name as I sunk inch by agonising inch of my cock in her.

◆

It took a bit for her to take me all, but when she did, I kept muttering, "good girl. Good fucking girl." As I stayed still, my cock twitching in her pussy.

I pulled back slightly and then pushed back in, soft pants falling from her lips as I did this over and over again, until my pace sped up,

I am barely pulling out of her as I rutted against her.

The tip of my cock was nudging her cervix every single time I slid back in.

I pushed her so she laid across her desk, putting her legs over my shoulders, forcing myself to go even deeper if that was possible.

The noises that fell from her lips seemed to get louder as she called out my name. "Mr. Riley. Yes, right there. Gonna cum." The last part came out as a squeal as I started to jackhammer.

Wanting her to cum around my cock.

"Cum for me then. Don't hold back." I grunted and that was all she seemed to need as she cried out my name like a prayer, her pussy tightening around my cock, forcing me to follow right behind her as she milked every last drop out of me.

My cock was still twitching as I pulled out of her pussy, watching with some sick glee as our combined juices leaked out of her and onto a student's paper.

I took two fingers and swiped it along her pussy, cleaning up some of our spent.

'I wonder?' I thought to myself.

"Open your mouth." I asked her, wondering if she would.

To my suprise, she did, also sticking out her tongue.

I placed the two cum-covered fingers on her tongue, and I actually felt a shiver go up my spine when she closed her mouth and started to suck my fingers clean.

◆

I went back to the detention room to grab my stuff, her gone by this point, when I felt a presence behind me.

"What do you want Gaz?"

"I heard it all." I could tell by his tone, he was jealous.

"Jealous?" I finally turned around, my bag slung over my shoulder.

"Very much so you massive asshole." He said to me with a smirk.

"Maybe next time it will be you, Vice-Principle Garrick." He clapped his hand on my shoulder, as the two of us left the classroom, ready for the weekend, but more importantly, ready for our weekly poker game where it will be my turn to tell everyone how I fucked the new teacher.

Soap is going to be so jealous.

Vice-Principal Garrick (18+) - Part 3

[fakescenariosbeforesleepblog]

Could you pretend you love me? Pt.1

Soap x Fem Reader (single mom).

Let me introduce Mr. And Mrs. Blackwood, the newlyweds and new neighbors.

This is just the alibi, a false marriage with normal jobs and a normal and traditional family, Why? Oh, just to take a look at the enemy.

Warning: only grammatical and spelling errors. Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Pt 2

You and Soap argue all the time, for everything and for nothing, both work well together but before every successful mission there's always a previous discussion.

The boys are accustomed already so they just let you argue and complain. «I told you we don't want to attract attention, we will be discreet!» «we need to create a distraction so they can take the hostage without someone noticing!» «No!» «Yes!»

Price acted like a Father trying to stop two teenagers, every time. Both of you are efficient but also a headache.

This time is not different. Price already explained to you the mission, observe, get close to the enemy, put some hidden cameras or microphones, trackers, all the necessary to obtain information and capture them. That was the easy part, the hard part was Price's proposition.

- What? Sorry cap, but I think Ghost or Gaz or even you, would play a better role than Soap.

«Oh no, here we go again» ghost and Gaz muttered while rolling their eyes.

- Excuse me? You don't know what you're talking about y/n. I'm such a perfect husband material.

- You're everything but a husband. Seriously Captain, we have to considerate someone else. Also I have my daughter, what will I do with her?

- Y/n, I understand you're mother now, but I also know the girl is in a private school... A boarding school, am I right? she will be fine and if she needs to visit I'm sure she won't be in danger, that could help us a little.

You simply nodded but then you stared at soap, you observed him head to toe, you're sure he's not the right person for this kind of mission, his hairstyle, his personality, you think he's inadequate.

-Alright... but... He's not the right person for this mission, that's all I'm saying.

Soap is not angry, he's actually making fun of this, he put a hand over his chest and opened his mouth, pretending to be offended by your comment.

- Y/n, I feel offended, I'm a very charming man, clearly I'm the best option. The lieutenant is too serious, he certainly won't be very friendly with our target, Gaz is maybe an option, but there's not much chemistry between you and him as a fake couple and our Captain... He simply has better missions to attend.

«Agree» «Sorry Y/n, Soap's right» «he'll do it fine, trust him»

You just rolled your eyes, you feel ridiculous trying to make them understand your point of view.

A few days later after that discussion, you were looking for someone around the base. Emma, your almost 7 year old daughter, was visit day and you couldn't get a nanny for her so you brought her with you to the base, the little girl is now lost and you're desperate to find her.

- Did you Lost something Sergeant?

Ghost's voice took you by surprise, his giant form always makes you a little bit anxious.

- Ah! Ghost, I mean Lieutenant, I... I'm actually looking for my daughter... I told her to stay in my office but she disappeared.

And just behind him, Emma appeared, holding your lieutenant's hand.

- I think I found her.

You kneeled in front of your girl and hugged her.

- Emma, why did you do that? I told you, you can't walk around here alone.

- But Y/N, I wanted to explore!! Ghost found me, he accompanied me, he's very sweet.

You stood up and took your little girl's hand.

- I'm sorry Lt; thanks for finding her.

You started to walk back to your office while Emma muttered to you «I think Ghost is very handsome...» you sighed «you're just like your mother...».

Indeed, Emma is the mini version of your best friend, you miss her, her loss was the most painful moment of your life, but Emma needed someone, your friend always said you would be her Legal representative if one day the worst happened. Now after a year, you're trying to be a mother for the little girl.

Both were getting ready to leave the base when a Knock on your door interrupted, Emma ran to open, it was Soap.

- Y/n, I just came to give you the files with the location of the house and other important stuff, oh, I think it would be good if we arrive together...like a happy family.

- Thanks Soap, ah... Can we discuss all this later?, I have to take her back to school...

You pointed at Emma who's still on the door observing at Soap with sparkling eyes, you continued talking.

-This is Emma, my daughter. Emma, this is my friend Johnny.

Johnny smiled at the little girl and shook hands with her.

- Heyyy, future daughter, Ghost told me about you, you're certainly a sunshine.

Emma blushed but instantly the curiosity captivated her.

- Future daughter? Are you Y/N's boyfriend? Have you seen Ghost's face? I think he has beautiful eyes.

Your red face was enough to make Soap's laugh, but he was quick to respond.

- I guess your mommy will talk to you about this later, and Yes, I've seen my lieutenant's face, not so bad but I think I'm more... Attractive.

He blinked an eye at Emma and then to you, he said goodbye and disappeared. On your way to Emma's school you explained to her what Soap was talking about, you never saw her so happy, excited to 'help' you in this mission.

While she was at school, you packed all your clothes and some stuff necessary to take to your temporary home. Soap was kind and went to your apartment to help you with the boxes, after all, it was better if both arrived together.

It was a short drive, you also discovered the location is not so far from Emma's school, the house is not so big but also not so small, white and yellow with a beautiful garden, certainly looks perfect for a family. Before leaving the car you decided both needed to put some rules.

- First of all, when Emma is around don't insult or say a bad word

- Copy...

- Second, we will sleep in the same bed... But, if you get close enough I will send you to sleep on the floor, okay?

- Fair enough.

Why is he so calmed? It is annoying how he simply smiles and is not complaining? You're not understanding what he is trying to do.

- And... Why are you agreeing to everything I'm saying?

- You said I'm not husband or dad's material, I will show you you're wrong my sweet wife... Let's start the show, Sweetheart!

He opened the door and got out of the car, you stayed speechless and followed him, he handed you the keys to open while he was bringing the boxes with you and his stuff.

You wanted to help but he refused, you were starting to complain when a man, your new neighbor, and technically the enemy, appeared, smiling pretending to be nice.

- I want to help! You're being a...

- Hello there! welcome to the neighborhood!

Both looked at him, he started to walk to you, Soap put the box on the floor and held your waist softly, you didn't know why but you felt shivers.

- Hey, thanks man! I'm John and this is my wife y/n

- it's really good to have new neighbors, I'm Jeff. I live in the house next to yours, feel free to visit whenever you want.

- Oh man, you live in a palace, it's a wonderful house!

- I Know, I think it is a good place to raise kids.

-Certainly it is, not only the house but the entire neighborhood, that's why my wife wanted to buy this house, no baby?

He kissed your forehead and squeezed your waist softly, you jumped in surprise.

- Oh, yes, sorry, I'm distracted by all this beauty, I can't wait to start to unpack! Jeff, how long have you been living here?

- I moved here 6 years ago, it's wonderful, my son loves this place, do you have children?

- Ah...

- Yes, our little princess, Emma, she's not here but will visit us soon, she's excited to see her new bedroom.

- Oh, where's she?

You started to worry, you never thought about the real danger you were putting on the little girl, but before you could think about a good lie, Soap spoke for both.

- She's visiting my parents, they have a small farm and Emma loves the horses.

- I see, well, I hope I can meet her soon, my son will be happy to have a new friend...

- For sure, Anyway, it has been a pleasure to meet you Jeff, we have too much work to do, we want to end all early, to have some time for us.

Jeff, was looking at both, there was something in his eyes that made you think he wasn't very convinced, You hugged Soap by his waist and put your head over his chest

- Ah yes, it has been a pleasure Jeff, but as my husband said, we have to hurry up if we want to... you know, do some newly married things.

He nodded and started to walk to his house, before you could speak again, Soap carried you and yelled «Home sweet home, my lady» you made a loud fake laugh and tried to make some sweet comments. Once the door was closed you jumped from his arms and looked for your phone and sent an encrypted text to Price. «Phase 1, Success, we'll start to install security around the house and ASAP we'll try to install microphones and trackers on the enemy». Soap was quick, he started to work in all the security system, you were surprised when you saw him installing on Emma's room.

- What are you doing Soap?

He looked at you and continued his work, you noticed Emma's room was the safest around the house. Then, his voice caught your attention.

- If your daughter will be staying here some days, I want to be sure she will be safe, you and her are my responsibility at the moment, it means that keeping us safe is my priority, more than spying on the enemy.

You blushed, his words caused you goosebumps and a strange feeling in your stomach, you weren't sure about why you were feeling all that so you decided to say thanks and leave the room.

- Thanks Jhonny, umm, dinner will be ready soon, wash your hands.

- I'll be there in a minute.

You ran out of the room, your heart beat was racing, after the dinner both were working a little, talking about your daughter and when she will visit you, it was strange for you, but for a moment you forgot this was all fake.

[prowlingz]

- Sticky Situation -

smut (cuck?? Idk read the summary 😭) 18+

MW2 | Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Laswell.

I’m from Germany and only just learned English, so please don’t be upset at any grammatical errors!

Summary: You are the perfect person for the job: seduce ‘Mark Ruffolo’ better known as ‘Mr. M’. You need to distract him long enough for team 141 to infiltrate the building, take down any guards in the way - and capture Mr. M alive. Thing is, his guards check on him periodically (every 15 or so minutes), and the only way he won’t is if someone is in need of his full attention and he doesn’t want to be bothered. Price had the room rigged with cameras so they can be sure the plan is in action; but a few members get insanely jealous watching another man touch you..

————————————————————————

“This is going to be so fucking ridiculous” you say, your face growing ever redder.

You look up to meet Laswell’s gaze, she looks deeply saddened by this predicament.

“You don’t have to sleep with him, just..” she pauses, unsure of what to say next. “Keep him.. occupied” she finished sternly.

The tension in the room is thick. No one is comfortable sending you into this situation, especially seeing fear in your eyes.

“We are going to send a.. what? 22 year old, new member into some perverts playhouse? What a damn welcome..” Gaz says to Laswell, he furrows his eyebrows.

He’s right. You only joined 141 two months ago after being recommended due to your skills as an agile sniper.

“Look: it wasn’t my decision. Unless any of you boys want to get all dolled up for the pervert?” she says, clearly frustrated as she’s had to say multiple times now that it wasn’t her call, and to not get mad at her over it.

Silence fills the room. Everyone looks uncomfortable, and most of them take pity glances at you. You bite your bottom lip and keep your gaze down.

You know what you have to do.

————————————————————————

The ride there was silent. Plan is, Soap will wear a guard’s outfit and bring you to the front gate as an “escaped whore”, where you’ll be taken up to the man..hopefully.

This plan definitely left a lot of room for improvement, but there was little time, and the mood seemed solemn.

“I..” you begin to speak, not even knowing what to say but knowing you should say something. Before you can get another word out, you find yourself there.

You were wearing a short white ruffled dress, no shoes. This apparently was what Mr. M’s ‘whores’ would wear.

No one said a word as you stepped out, all keeping their heads down. Soap grabbed your wrist tightly to make it seem he was dragging you back like a dog.

“Does this hurt?” he says, looking down at you.

“I don’t mind it” you say in response. “Let’s just get this over with”

You both make your way to the front gate, where two guards point guns at you, and lower once they realize a ‘guard’ is with you.

“Found this whore trying to escape. Thought I’d bring her back for a punishment” he clearly hated every word of the sentence, and his grip on you tightened right before he has to let you go.

You don’t turn back to say goodbye, instead, you obediently get pushed around by one of the guards up to Mr. M.

You track mud throughout the building. You’re totally alone. You have no one to rely on if shit hits the fan other than your own skills. You reassure yourself they wouldn’t have sent you in if they knew the danger was way too risky.. right? You think back to 141’s solemn faces: they looked defeated before we even began.

Lost in thought, but still being dragged by the guard, you get snapped out of your headspace by a knock on the large door in front of you.

“Come in”, you hear a husky voice respond to the knock.

You step into the room.. well.. you’re thrown into it basically, but catch yourself. The guard turns on his heel and leaves. You were dumped like trash.

“What do we have here?”

You turn, and make eye contact with a tall man. You never thought Mr. M would be so young, attractive and..tall. Even though the ceiling was likely 30 feet high, it still feels like he could touch it. He was likely 6’7”, had bright blond hair and cold blue eyes. They reminded you of Soap’s eyes, how you could get lost in them for hours. Mr. M’s hair was so similar to Ghost’s, it almost made you laugh. But instead, you were quickly knocked right back into reality when you remembered your situation.

You knew that 141 was watching from the cameras, which to you were quite easily spotted due to your intensive training and excellent eyesight as a sniper.

“S-sir” you say sheepishly, making eye contact with the man.

He examines you. All of you.

You stand there, not moving a muscle.

Before you can open your mouth for another word, he picks you up like it’s nothing, or.. more like you’re nothing. He treats you like an object at disposal.

He takes you over to his desk and has you straddling him. You don’t know what to do with your hands, until he moves them to your breasts.

“Hmm..such a good girl” he hums. Praise from any man is enough to undue you, but this man is super fucking hot too.

You let out the slightest whimper to his praise, which he caught immediately. You continue staring at the marble floor to your right, and your face grows ever so redder.

“What is your name?” he asks.

You make eye contact with him. His cold gaze is piercing you.

Paranoia fills you. ‘Shit. SHIT. He knows. He knows..’ is all you keep thinking, not even able to understand his question.

“Do you not know English? Wie heißen Sie? (What is your name?)” he gives you a confused look and pouts his lips.

You know German, but never discussed this with 141. You respond to his question either way.

“My name is y/n” you say sheepishly.

He hums in your response.

“Such a pretty name for a pretty little girl like yourself” he chuckles.

You accidentally loosen yourself and drop a little into his groin. He lets out a slight groan at this and takes your hands, placing them on his shoulders for you. He moves his hands down to your waist and pushes you further onto his clothed erection. He groans even louder this time.

“Fuck..” he puts out.

IN THE 141 VAN

“That mother fucker.. I’m going to kill him” Soap says, staring at the glowing monitor of all the different angles Mr. M is touching you.

His hands move off of your hips and slides down to touch your ass.

Jaws lock in the car, gritting of teeth. The only rational one right now is Price.

“When can we get this fucker?” Ghost speaks out, though it wasn’t really a question, more of a statement.

“As soon as he turns off his radio, he will have no communication to anything outside of the room” Price responds, he doesn’t even look at the monitor, only listens.

You were told to ask his name, since not a lot of people know it, especially not girls he kidnapped off the street or bought from sex trafficking. It’d be suspicious not to ask him.

“What’s.. what’s your name?” you ask looking at him.

He hums.

“You can call me Mark for our session, if that’s okay with you, princess?” you haven’t felt this kind of touch in months, even if it is from some pervert.. it feels.. nice?

He plays with your ass before bringing his hands up to your hip, leaning in and leeching on your neck.

“Let me mark what’s mine..” he says, continuing to bite on your neck.

You can’t help but let out a little moan. Your hands grip onto his shoulders and you press yourself further onto him.

“Ah..such a needy little girl, are we? Hmm?” he chimes.

It feels too good to disagree.

Your response is pushing harder onto his twitching erection and rubbing your clit with his clothed tip. You let out a slight moan at the contact.

“I bet you’d feel so fucking good taking all of me..” he can’t help but say.

You are enjoying this, but know the real goal here is the radio. If you’re caught turning it off, then you know the mission is over, and possibly your life too.

Just then, a knock at his door.

He stops kissing onto your neck, and cranes his head towards the door, grabbing his radio.

“What the fuck is it? I’m busy” his radio hisses.

The static noise on the radio is starting to piss him off.

“Don’t fucking knock on my door or bother me for the next hour” he turns the radio to ‘of’.

You get so excited, but try not to show it.

He looks back at you, noticing something is off.

“What’s wrong, hun?”

You look at him.

“I’m just.. nervous.. it’s my first time” you think of on the spot.

His eyes light up. He looks down at your body even more satiable than before. He lifts your dress up, revealing your white panties with a beautiful lace around the hem.

You shift your weight.

Before you know it, he’s lifting you off his chair to take off your panties. He shoves them into his dress pants before admiring you. Your slick drooling all over his clothed erection..

“Fuck.. you’re so needy for me, aren’t you?”

You watch him move his hands from your thigh, to his left one grabbing your ass and the right one immediately rubbing circles on your clit.

You fall down onto him, you forgot how good it felt to be touched like this.

He groans and you can see his dick twitching through his pants. “You are so fucking wet..” his fingers trace your nerdy hole, spreading it with to fingers.

You moan, and muffle it by leaning into his shoulders and arching your back onto his fingers. You know damn well what you’re doing.

You can’t imagine what your teammates are thinking at the moment.. I mean.. they knew this is what you were getting into, right? Who told them they had to watch?

Before you can even think, he throws you onto the desk in front of him.

You’re shocked, but remember not to let your reflexes hinder this. You still are wearing the dress, which isn’t allowed. He rips it off of you and starts swirling his tongue onto your left nipple.

He presses his erection against your leaking pussy and palms himself. He moves over to the right nipple and you tug on his hair.

Now the thought of your team watching you get ravaged like this was sort of a turn on. You never thought you’d find yourself enjoying something like this so much. You look to your right and make eye contact with one of the cameras. Hoping that they were still watching, you let a smile out as you moaned from his touch.

His stops contact, clearly very out of breath and flustered himself. He looks down at your dripping pussy, now red nipples after his abuse, and the hickeys formed on your neck.

He pulls off his belt, then pulls his pants off. He slides off his briefs and springs out a huge cock. Maybe 2 inches thick and 7 inches tall. His tip pulsates and is leaking pre cum all over.

He uses one hand and grabs your waist.

God.. you were hoping those boys were taking their sweet time. You didn’t want this day to ever end.

With his other hand, he slides his tip along your slit, making sticky noises..

You can’t help but buck your hips up to him, and he obliges in your request. He slowly sinks his tip inside of you. You scream in pain and pleasure from his shear size, and you’re not even 2 inches deep. He is stretching you out so well..

“You like when I stretch you out like this? Your little pussy feels so..” he groans as he pushes himself deeper “…good. So good.. such a good girl, all to me..” he keeps praising. You can’t even think straight as he pushes himself deeper into you.

Without any warning, he slams himself fully into you.

You can feel yourself stretched out and plead “a-ah! Please..ah..fuck..”

He doesn’t respond to your pleas, instead ramming himself deeper into you with every second going by making you reach your end..

You begin whining “please..PlEasE.. I’m going to cum..please” but your begs fall on silent ears.

He continues and before you know it, you reach your climax. Your walls tightly squeezing across him, and you feel him empty his hot liquid into you.

As he pulls out, an audible *POP* is heard. His eyes widen, you both try and catch your breath. You watch the cum seep out of you, when you begin seeing blood.

“I must’ve stretched you a little too good, hmm agent?” It took you a minute to register what he has said, before you look up at him and see a sly smile on his face.

“W-what..?” You respond.. did he know? Your heart, already beating fast begins to beat faster and faster.

“Let’s get you cleaned up!” He looks over at the same camera you were smiling at just minutes ago. “I hope you boys enjoyed the show!”. He picks you up. Your legs weak and drops you into a warm bath. He wraps himself into a towel and drags a chair over by the tub.

“How did..” you begin to speak.

“It was quite obvious. None of my girls are as stunning as you, and..” he grabs your right arm.

“They are branded by numbers. You don’t have one” he states the obvious.

“What about.. the cameras?” You say, dumbfounded and a bit fearful for your life.

He looks at you, still smiling. “Oh I found those weeks ago. Figured something was coming, and knew it immediately when I saw you!”

You just stare up at him. How can this man be so..charming and terrifying at the same time. Like a fallen angel.

Before you can get another word in, he’s leaves out fresh clothes for you and gets himself dressed swiftly.

“They will be here any minute I presume?” he looks down at you.

“You aren’t going to kill me?” You ask. If you were in his shoes, you would’ve kill you..

“No, I don’t do that”

That’s a blatant lie.. you know this man has killed thousands with his business.

“Right..”

You hear the door bust open and hear Ghost screaming at him to come out.

You get up albeit a bit shakily. You innocently put the clothes on that he left and walk out too, not even bothering to put your hands up.

The men swarm him, clearly wishing he’d do something so they could kill this bastard.

“Are you alright?” Ghost asks.

“Never been better” you say, leaning against the wall.

It’ll definitely be a few days before you’ll be able to walk again. And those marks aren’t going away any time soon..

[chaifootsteps]

Log Anon here

Now, usually when I talk about other anons I act like some sort of god. Case and point that unending search threat. But now, I’ve been inspired to use my shitty writing skills to make lyrics about how much that anon’s song sucked.

———————————

ANON! Let’s start with the fact that this Rapper thought he was a genius.

Sitting there on a chair hoping that Viv would touch their penis.

Man, the whole thing is unreadable, agreeably irredeemable.

I’m filled with laughter that they didn’t think that grammar matter, making it damn unappeasable.

Here’s a lesson, never randomise where capitalise letters, it doesn’t make it better, make sure you fix this error.

Anon coming in here thinking their Chai’s terror, but you’re a joke so just give up the endeavour.

The damn block you wrote makes you a damn dope

As well next time you write keep the swears out or do you need some bloody soap?

Here’s things you should’ve realised before you started to theorise.

Chai speaks about Viv because Anon’s bring it up most of the time.

“to Survive or to live”, yo, Mr Potatohead, that line should’ve been cut in half since they don’t rhyme so I’m charging ya for this lyrical crime.

The irony of bringing up witch when you fail to spell.

The hell Chai getting caught for? Revealing pedophiles and workplace abuse?

I hope you know what you’re doing because hating that has no excuse.

You’re the damn fool, you drooling tool, for getting all blue because someone can live both on and off the wifi.

Honestly your likability is so low that when you visit, all of South Africa cry.

I’m seeing lines so unrefined, so horribly designed, that would make Shakespeare want to die.

I think the real freak is the one posted a mediocre rap to defend a bad show.

Every argument you bring up blows and annoyingly disrupts the flow.

Poor attitude? At least be brave and show your true account if you gonna diss.

You tried your shot at internet fame but too bad that by next month no one will know this exists.

The reason no one leaves the hate is because there’s still people who still need to learn.

Now where’s your next burns, oh wait, you playing favourites this turn?

Aw man, this is weak, you think you’re making them meek, you’re one weird freak.

Rhyming must be tough for a kindengartener, butthey know how to rhyme different words.

The logic you bring for Scienceservant name is worse than the smell of a pile of turds.

I ask the same question, is it worth it to do this when you’re nothing but absurd?

Damn, only a cuck can bother someone while trying to suck off another.

ANON! Why the fuck can’t you write?

You say Chai’s hiding but you are too, coward.

You act like you’re the best when your personality, scent and everything else are soured.

Boy, you’re the ending of Danny Phantom, bad, confusing, and an insult to creation itself.

Now go put on your diaper before you go pee yourself.

———————————

At least this won’t the worst rap on this blog

From the ballpit we come and to the ballpit we will all return.

[squish36-writes-and-draws]

All the Lemon Squares Argon

Summary: Another renamed fanfic from my creative writing class, this one's assignment was to use setup and payoff in a major element of the story. In the story, Fitz and Dex have a final chemistry presentation project where Fitz has chosen to bake lemon squares, but they've been stolen. I'm not sorry for the pun that is the title.

Word count: 6946

Tw: mild sexual innuendo, jokes about poisoning baked goods, food

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed!): @stellar-lune @faggot-friday @kamikothe1and0nly @nyxpixels @florida-preposterously @poppinspop @uni-seahorse-572 @solreefs @did-i-say-you-could-get-up @rusted-phone-calls @when-wax-wings-melt @good-old-fashioned-lover-boy7 @dexter-dizzknees @abubble125 @hi-imgrapes @callum-hunt-is-bisexual @xanadaus @callas-pancake-tree @hi-my-name-is-awesome @katniss-elizabeth-chase @arson-anarchy-death @dizzeners @thefoxysnake @olivedumdum @loveution @notyourlegacygirl

On Ao3 or below the cut!

    Fitz doesn't even get a chance to sit down next to Dex before Dex’s gorgeous periwinkle eyes glitter up at him with a thousand new ideas. This is going to be…interesting. 

    “What if we could get powdered galactose?  Or lactose? Hm. That’s probably not the best idea. Milk sugar might do weird things chemically. Although that might be the fact that it’s a solution of water and butterfat. Or we could get fructose. That should work.”

    He’s so pretty when he gets like this—especially when I can’t understand half of what he’s saying and I know I’ve missed a lot of context.  

    “We’ve already decided on the parameters of the experiment. We are going to stick with the plan,” Fitz pleads, trying to appeal to Dex’s sense of pretending to be organized. 

    It doesn’t work very well. 

    “What about aspartame? Or Splenda? Is that a brand name? Yeah, it probably is. I should look that one up before putting it in the presentation. Generic Splenda.” 

    “Dex,” Fitz starts, hoping Dex’s name recognition reflex is strong enough to get through this whirlwind of thoughts. “We are not doing any more of this. We have enough. It’ll be fine.” 

    “I wonder what the sweetest one is. Then again, that might not be the best option. Ratios and all that.” 

    An image of the crumbly mess that would follow flashes through Fitz’s mind. He’s forgotten sugar before and it was not a fun result. Better than the three sticks of butter incident in terms of the clean-up, but at least that remained edible. Not that the sugarless one was inedible—that’s a very difficult bar to overcome, but it wasn’t pleasant.

    “It would. But, honey, will you please—”

    “Yeah, honey would be fun!”

    I was calling you that. I realize my error now.  

    Dex’s tirade is finally ended by the school bell ringing in the last hour of the day. It takes a solid five minutes for Mr. Sweeney to take attendance and get the presentation loaded for the group unlucky enough to get drafted on this fine spring Monday. 

    Because AP Chem isn’t already enough of a land of suffering, Mr. Sweeney has graciously decided to fill the time between the exam and the final with a little presentation on whatever chemistry experiment each pair of lab partners wants to do. 

    It can be live or in a video that contains both of you, and it should be relatively safe. This group—composed of Stina and Rissa—has decided that they want to spend an absurd length of time talking about baking soda. Heating it up, predicting the products, hearing about both its and sodium carbonate’s use. Because those are definitely not the same thing. One is used in baking and the other is used in soap. Our class is all in for a riveting ten minutes. 

    Fitz is pretty sure they just found a lab on the internet and followed it, which is a valid method to do things. Once you’ve crossed that mental boundary, though, you should at least try to find an interesting one. He’s heard one group arguing about plating a penny in brass or something. That’s fun. 

    It might be considered defacing currency, but it could easily be argued that that’s the appeal of it. 

    But no. They get to sit there for ten whole minutes, and half of that time is waiting for the sample to heat. Curse you, thermodynamics. Dex doesn’t stop suggesting ideas for how they could embellish their own presentation in a few short days, but Fitz isn’t even sure they’re going to finish what they already have on the agenda. 

    While they’re painfully waiting for the baking soda to heat up enough that it decomposes, Dex asks on the lab table in blue, fine tip expo marker, How are the lemon squares going? 

    The big idea for their project is that they’re going to be taking glucose and sucrose and seeing what happens when they react with Benedict’s Solution. Who’s Benedict? Some guy, probably. It’s a shame they’ve turned him into a soup. At least he’s blue from the copper(II) ions. 

    Fitz should know this by now, but that’s what Wikipedia at two in the morning the night it’s due is for. 

    Anyway, it turns orange in the presence of a reducing sugar, like glucose, and doesn’t react with others, like sucrose. Why do we care about those two? They were the most easily commercially available and it’s taken until today for Dex to start suggesting more sugars for them to try. 

    They’re also performing a taste experiment between lemon squares made with glucose and those made with sucrose. It’s good practice to bring the audience snacks while presenting. 

    Of course, it was a whole process choosing the variety of pastry to be used in this project. As in, Dex asked really nicely for it to be lemon squares—puppy dog eyes and all— and Fitz is incapable of telling him no. It was also convenient that the recipe Fitz had didn’t use brown sugar, and could thus be closer to a controlled test. 

    I made some last night, Fitz replies, and Dex has begun doodling either a chocolate chip cookie or an asteroid on his side of the table. It’s the most precious thing Fitz has ever owned and he will cherish it forever. 

    Dex pauses his masterpiece to say, That’s good.

    Yeah, um, so, about that, Fitz barely manages to write around Dex’s arm, this morning I woke up to find them disappeared. 

    Dex has to erase some of the previous conversation to ask, Well, what’d you do with them? 

    I remember specifically putting them into the back of the cabinet above the microwave. 

    And they weren’t there this morning? 

    Nope. 

    That marks the first time Dex has stopped talking long enough to think for the first time since last Wednesday. 

    Fitz erases a space to write, smearing a haze of blue across the table.

    Don’t worry about it. I’ll make more tonight.

    And then those are going to disappear.

    I’ll put them somewhere else. 

    Until that gets raided too. 

    Then I’ll make MORE. 

    I don’t think you have that many eggs. 

    That’s why grocery stores exist. 

    Before they know it, the presentation is over, and it doesn’t really affect a whole lot. There’s three presentations a day. It’s still going to take a week to get through all of them, but it does make it so that it doesn’t take longer than that. And that’s somewhat relevant. 

    This next one is over the most classic science fair project of all time: the baking soda volcano.  It’s not surprising that Jensi and Valin are the ones to try to blow up the classroom. 

     Dex writes the chemical reaction on the table with accompanying chemical structures before they’ve even gotten off the title slide. 

     NaHCO3 + HC2H3O2 → NaH2C3O2 + CO2 + H2O 

    Jensi also takes his time explaining acid-base chemistry like we’re all fifth graders, which likely isn’t that far off. “You see, class, baking soda, or sodium bicarbonate, is a base, which means that when it comes into contact with water, it is able to rip off some of water’s hydrogen atoms, resulting in an increase in hydroxide ions. And then when vinegar, also called acetic acid, is dissolved in water, it releases hydrogen atoms, forming hydronium ions. Do any of you remember the chemical formula for hydronium?

    Crickets fill the room as Dex writes H3O+ on the desk without a single thought. Mr. Sweeney is probably off crying in the corner as their final grades slip lower and lower. 

    “That’s alright,” Valin continues, “it’s combining the two reactants that’s the fun part. When an acid and a base come into contact with one another, they undergo a double replacement reaction. In this case, sodium and hydrogen switch places.”

    The presentation flips to the next slide, filling in the products of the reaction as CH3COONa + H2CO3. 

    Sodium acetate can be written either the way Valin and Jensi did or the way Dex did. It’s a matter of preference or something about organic chemistry. Now, carbonic acid, on the other hand, is a bit more of an issue. 

    Jensi points at the second term. “But that’s not its final form. This last reactant here breaks apart into water and carbon dioxide, so there’s a second reaction inside of the normal reaction.” 

    Yes, yes, we all know how carbonates work, Dex writes. 

    Fitz laughs silently. 

    “And, with all that in mind,” Jensi flips to the next slide and lowers his goggles from his forehead to where they’re supposed to go over his eyes in true mad scientist fashion. “It’s time for eruption.” 

    Everyone has seen a baking soda volcano before. It’s not surprising when it bubbles up and oozes out of the beaker that Jensi and Valin didn’t even bother to make look like a volcano. It is nice to note that they did bring food coloring to make the lava foam orange and didn’t get it on the ceiling, which is a win for everyone. 

    And then Dex has to ruin it. Did you know this reaction is actually endothermic?

    That’s big fancy chemistry words for “it gets cold.” Curse you, thermodynamics. Lava isn’t supposed to be cold. Fitz is going to personally take this up with the second law of thermodynamics. It’s not going to work, but entropy deserves to feel bad about what it���s doing. 

    Valin and Jensi putz around for another five minutes after their initial volcano has stopped reacting, mostly just adding more vinegar or baking soda at random intervals to see how the increase in concentration affects the rate of the reaction. Definitely not just standing around to run down the clock for the next group. 

    That next group is the brassing a penny group, and it takes them so long to get to their experiment, the entire class is freed from the confines of the school building before it’s over. Except for Fitz. He still has to play chess for an hour. 

    It comes and goes with more blunders than Fitz would care to admit, but that very quickly doesn’t matter when he shows up at Dex’s house to work on homework. And by “work on homework” he means “desperately hope that he doesn’t get horrifically distracted before they accomplish a nonzero amount of progress on the chem project.” It doesn’t seem likely. 

    And then that probability crashes to zero. 

    Dex is found standing in his room at a bulletin board, winding a red string around thumb tacks stabbed into sticky notes. 

    In the middle is a picture of Fitz and a torn-off corner of notebook paper with a three dimensional lemon square drawn on it. Fitz can tell it’s a lemon square because it’s been messily colored in with a yellow crayon that doesn’t show up very well. 

    “Do I want to ask?” Fitz asks hesitantly. 

    Dex smiles into the board. “No, I don’t think you do. But that doesn’t stop me from explaining it. Here in the middle is you, of course. There’s only a few people that know that we’re baking for this project and that I made you do it.”

    “How do we know that the person who took them even knows about the project? Do you not realize how often I find myself baking? I have a problem.

    “Good point.” Dex adds a lopsided question mark to the sticky note with the word ‘project.’ “That doesn’t really change who might have had access to the stash. Which is where our suspects come in.” 

    Dex turns to face Fitz, gesturing widely toward the board like any of it makes sense. His handwriting is absolutely atrocious right now, a sure sign that he’s put more thought into this than it deserves. 

    “Our first suspect is Keefe. I don’t trust him. He’s got a long history of making things disappear. Case in point: Mrs. Cuddles. One day, she was here in all of her stuffed animal glory and the next, we’ve never seen her again.” 

    “We never proved that it was Keefe.” 

    “Well, we really should get around to doing that.” Dex points very intentionally at nothing. “He is also likely to know you well enough to know where you would hide things.” 

    “You have fun asking him. I’m not interrogating my best friend.”

    Dex’s eyes glimmer, and Fitz knows all hope is lost. “We should absolutely do an interrogation! With threats and everything!” 

    “Until he asks for a lawyer,” Fitz deadpans, trying to calm down Dex’s racing thoughts. This is both a common situation and one that Fitz is very bad at de-escalating. 

    “Your dad could be his lawyer.” 

    “I feel like that would make things objectively worse.” 

    “Yeah, it probably would. I think we should declare independence and therefore we don’t have to comply with constitutional rights. Who needs those anyway?” 

    Fitz blinks. He expected for Dex to increase his outlandish ideas in a short amount of time, but not that quickly. 

    “I mean, if you wanted to take the ‘the first amendment protects you from the government, not the Dex’ approach, that would be entirely reasonable without having to prove sovereignty. That would take a while.” 

    Dex smiles. “I forgot about that. That’s perfect. When do you think you can take Keefe into custody?” 

    “I’m not doing it, you do it.” Fitz pauses, trying to think of a good reason why because he clearly did not think through the implications of this before saying it. “You’re the lead investigator here. You’ve got the corkboard and everything. I’m just a guy who happens to be here.”

    Dex looks at him, not believing any of what he just said to be true, but accepting it as fact anyway. 

    “Please don’t let this end with Keefe having a restraining order against us,” Fitz adds. 

    “I make no promises, sweetheart.” 

        Fitz’s faded, once-pink hair falls into his face as he pushes his glasses up to pinch his nose. 

    Why did I know that was going to be his response? 

    Fitz shouldn’t be surprised the next day after school to find Dex in his basement, Keefe sitting at an old wooden table, the lights dimmed as low as possible before total darkness. The incandescent bulbs don’t much like this as they flutter in pain like they’re having a little bit of a stroke. 

    “About time,” Dex says, leaning against the wall. 

    Fitz turns on the lights. “This needs to be taken down about three notches. Keefe, I’m sorry he’s like this.” 

    “I’m not,” Dex and Keefe reply in alarming unison. 

    What did I sign myself up for and why do I do this to myself? 

    “Dex, if you would please proceed with the reason we have gathered y’all here today, that’d be great. Some of us have homework that we actually do,” Fitz suggests. 

    “That’s what study hall is for,” Keefe replies. 

    Dex interjects, “No, study hall is for Wordle.”

    “That’s what English is for.”

    “No, that’s when you do the homework you didn’t finish at home or in study hall.” 

    “Okay, yeah, that’s almost fair.” 

        It isn’t often that Dex concedes a point in an argument. Or maybe Fitz isn’t good at arguing with him. Fitz is very distractible when it comes to Dex and that might affect his debate skills. Or it could be that he knows Dex will pout for a month and a half if he’s proven wrong, and Fitz just lets him believe that he’s right. Yeah, that’s it. 

    Dex bounces off of the wall and slides into the chair across from Keefe. Fitz takes a seat, off center, directly next to Dex, close enough that Dex’s infamous left handed elbow jabs are a serious threat. 

    “First, I would like to confirm that you are, in fact, Keefe Sencen. Is this accurate information?” 

    “What, no middle name?” He looks at Fitz. “Do you not know it?” 

    A smirk tries to blossom on Keefe’s lips but quickly gets shut down by Fitz’s own. 

    “I absolutely know what it is. I didn’t think you wanted to acknowledge how you were named after your father, considering everything.” 

    Dex continues, “This is not a government-sanctioned interrogation, and, as such, you are not entitled to any of the protections provided by the Bill of Rights. Miranda rights do not apply here. You are not getting a lawyer unless you want one of my siblings, who are, by the way, not recognized by the bar association.” 

    “This is quickly sounding like more and more of a trap.”

    “It’s like five questions. You’ll be fine. The most severe sentence you will receive is mild disappointment.” 

    Keefe gasps sarcastically. “Not that, never that. How am I going to cope?” 

        “On the seventh of November of this year, it was discovered that a tray of lemon squares went missing. Do you know anything about this?” Dex asks. 

    “No,” Keefe replies, fast enough to not think but not too fast to be suspicious. 

    “Are you absolutely sure?”

    Fitz adds, “They would have been above my microwave.” 

    “Yeah, I’m sure.” Keefe shifts his attention to Fitz. “You made lemon squares and didn’t tell me?”

    “I guess you should’ve taken chem with me.” 

    “Well, I wouldn’t have gotten them either way, considering they’ve been stolen. But, now I know you have a recipe for them, which means I have the ability to annoy you enough to convince you to make them. Who’s the real winner here?”

    “So you’re sure that you didn’t take them? You’re not just being difficult because that’s your only personality trait?” 

    “Actually, I have two. Beauty is a personality trait. But I was very unaware of that particular stash. The one under your bed and in the back of the lazy susan are less safe.” 

    Fitz swears. “I just found that one a week ago and now you’re telling me I have to find yet another one?”

    “You could always use your closet. You’ve already got everything else in there.” 

    Dex snorts. 

    “You knowing where it is would take away the whole concept of it being a hiding place. And then you’d figure out how to sell it on the black market.”

    “I wouldn’t do that. That would risk my own stash. Although your sister is going to stiff it out with that bloodhound nose of hers faster than I’ll be able to raid it.”

    Dex interrupts, “Do you think there is a possibility that Biana was the one to find the lemon squares?”

    “Possibility? Absolutely. I don’t know why she wouldn’t have been your first suspect. She literally lives in the same house as the lemon squares. She would’ve had the largest window of opportunity.”

    “Like you aren’t there almost as much.”

    “That’s because Biana is usually off gallivanting with her friends.” 

    Keefe has a slight inflection on the word “friends,” but what he’s trying to imply there remains unclear. Knowing both of them, it’s probably more than a little gay. 

    Fitz waits a beat before saying, “I’ve got to go get to making another batch. If more go missing, I want you to expect that we will be seeing you again.”

    “I also expect you to come to us, whether it be in person, in an overcomplicated disaster of scavenger hunt clues, or anywhere in between, if you find out any information. We can offer a better bribe than those other people can.”

    “Dex,” Fitz hisses. 

    “What? It’s accurate. It’s not like this is going to lead to a crime syndicate,” Dex replies. 

    “You never know. Alvar could be involved.” 

    “He probably still thinks of you as a fifth grader. I know I do the same with my siblings, and I see them every day. Unfortunately. But that means he likely believes that you shouldn’t be trusted to operate the oven on your own.” 

    “Unless he’s been purposely watching you only to ruin your final project,” Keefe suggests. 

    Fitz holds his head in his hands. “There’s no reason to exaggerate this as much as you are. Next you’re going to be telling me that I should poison the next batch to find out who took them.” 

    “That’s actually a good solution,” Dex says. “You’d make sure there are no more stolen lemon squares…after those, at least.”

    A couple of bitter almonds crushed up into the crust would make that far easier than it should be. Cyanide is known for being delicious. 

    …And that’s exactly why I shouldn’t be allowed access to Biana’s Amazon Prime account. 

    “Are we done here?” Fitz asks tiredly. “Or are you two going to come up with a conspiracy theory to explain the entirety of thermodynamics or something? And do I really have to be here for that?”

    “Hey, there’s probably a fourth secret law of thermo somewhere,” Dex argues. 

    “There already is. The zeroth law. If A is in equilibrium with B and A is in equilibrium with C, then B is in equilibrium with C, remember? You’d need a secret fifth law, and at that point, that’s unrealistic.” 

    Dex laughs. 

    “Please don’t figure out a way to violate any of the laws while I’m gone. I don’t want to deal with the consequences of that. That would imply that the project would have to change and I’m not putting that much effort in between now and Friday.” 

        “I hope you know that’s my goal in life now.”

    “I knew it would be.” Fitz sighs silently. “I’ve got too much homework to keep following this conversation. Just have fun doing whatever it is you find yourself doing this evening.”

         “Let me know if you need distracting from your homework.”

    I give myself fifteen minutes before I’m going to be taking you up on that offer. “I won’t, thanks. Have a nice evening.” 

    “I won’t. And I’m sure you won’t either.” 

    Keefe snorts. 

    “Both of y’all are legally required to have a nice evening. Because I said so. And now I’m going to leave you to it.”  

    Fitz leaves without any more argument, because he’s had enough of that for today. There’s a limited amount of coherent thoughts he can have while being faced with Dex’s dimples and that number is very, very low.

    The next day interviewing—interrogating—Biana goes much the same as Keefe. Which is to say, it’s a complete waste of time for everyone involved. She threatens them slightly more, but that’s to be expected. 

    Fitz spends far too many hours reading scientific papers about glucose and sucrose and a few other sugars just for fun instead of working on the actual project part of the project. 

    It’s to make it as accurate as possible. Yeah. That’s why he didn’t get to bed until two in the morning. 

    That might also be due to the fact that he spent a few hours surveying his house to look for the most advantageous spot to hide the next batch of lemon squares—and with two slices per person in class, it’s not particularly easy to find anywhere even remotely helpful. 

    There aren’t a whole lot of viable options left between Keefe and Biana’s incessant searching for hidden snacks in the walls. Even behind the fish tank in his dad’s office is no longer safe. 

    Eventually, he finds a light fixture that will surprisingly work quite well. They might get a little warm from the heat given off by the lights if they’re turned on. Curse you, thermodynamics. They’ll be fine. 

    Then, and only then, at like two in the morning, is he able to make more. Most of their cooking time is being stuck in the fridge and it gets left there overnight. 

    The next day is Thursday, and Thursdays are good days. Neither Dex nor Fitz have anything to do after school, which means Fitz can drive Dex home. 

        “I made more lemon squares last night.”

    “Oh? And how did that go?” Dex asks, staring firmly out the window. 

    “Well, they weren’t there when I checked them again in the morning.”

    Dex swears. “Is there anything else we can do?”

    “Not unless I don’t let them out of my sight until tomorrow morning when I let Sweeney take custody of them. Do you think I could maybe make and leave them at your house? I don’t want to get up at four in the morning and that’s pretty much my only other option. I’m not staying up all night just to make them at a reasonable time.” 

    “I would rather gouge my eyes out with my pencil than wake up at that heinous hour. Good luck to both you and your sanity. Stars know I’m not going to be doing that. I’d pull another all-nighter before I do that one.” 

    It takes a second and a half for Fitz to realize what Dex just said. 

    “What do you mean ‘another’ all-nighter? Dex, we’ve been working on this.”

    “Well, we’ve also been working on this project for a few too many days for me to just ignore this whole mystery situation we’ve got going on.” Dex’s voice cracks. “I have to solve this problem. I have to find out what happened. We’re going to be very lucky if I get anything tonight.” 

    “Then I guess we just have to make sure you don’t think about the problem. If we don’t think about it, it doesn’t exist.”

    “You’re not playing the object permanence game with me today, Fitz. We all know I’m going to lose and I don’t like doing that.”

    “There’s no such thing as losing. Either you win the game and pass out in the middle of our presentation tomorrow, pushing it to Monday as you get dragged to the nurse’s office, or you get to sleep.”

    Dex sighs. “You do raise a fair point. I can’t get on a first name basis. Keefe and Sophie may have been the first to accomplish that particular honor, but that doesn’t mean they’re ever going to let me live it down.” 

    That wasn’t the point I was trying to make, but whatever works, my darling. 

    Fitz reaches over and gently squeezes Dex’s hand. “We’ll figure it out. I’m not failing a project over this. That’s not something I’m physically capable of doing. Besides, if something does happen, we’ve still got Benedict’s solution and a hot water bath. It’s not as fun or as memorable, but it’s functional.” 

    “Ah, yes, copper sulfate soup. I’m sure it’s very tasty.”

    “The forbidden gatorade. The fact that it’s that shade of delicious, delicious blue is so unfair on so many levels.”

    “I thought you were supposed to be the responsible one.”    

    “Well, it’s not my fault it looks so drinkable. Also, you’re a very bad influence on me.” Fitz smiles. 

    “I know. But I’m just picking up what Keefe started. Can you feel the corruption sinking into your bone marrow?” 

    “Yeah.” Fitz says bluntly. 

    They unceremoniously get out of the car, and Fitz leads the both of them towards the kitchen. They’re trying to be productive today and making another batch of lemon squares before sitting down and getting distracted seems like something productive. 

    He checked after Biana’s interview yesterday to see if Dex’s house had all of the ingredients, and for some unknown reason, they did. Why do they own so much glucose? Normal table sugar is sucrose. That would be reasonable. Glucose is not. 

    It might be a little out of date, but at this point, Fitz’s just hoping to not have to do the conversion from baking powder to baking soda. After making the crust and throwing it in the oven, he discovers that his hopes aren’t fulfilled. 

    How am I supposed to measure a sixth of a teaspoon of baking soda?

    And also, why does this always happen? They should really standardize this. Make everyones’ lives easier. 

    Just to be even more difficult, it decides to spill onto his shirt, right next to the flour and powdered sugar from the crust. Flour has no reason to get everywhere and yet it does. 

    Dex leans over the kitchen island where he’s seated, looking up from his phone for the first time in several minutes. “Am I going to be allowed to quality control these?”

    “No. We barely have enough for our victims—sorry, classmates—as it is.”

    Dex snorts. “Have you poisoned these again? Fitz, we talked about this. This is a crime against humanity.”

     Fitz finishes whisking the second lemon filling—the sucrose one—and the oven timer goes off a few moments later. He checks the crusts, and they’re both beautifully golden brown. 

    I need to bake here more often. This oven is better than the one at home.  

    “Says the guy voted most likely to become a dictator by our chem class.”

    “That simply means I know what I’m talking about.”

    “That’s funny, because I’ve never known what I was talking about in my life.”

    “That seems like a you problem.” 

        Fitz pours the filling into their proper crusts—differentiable by one of glucose’s corners being less than all the way to the corner—before sliding both pans back into the oven. 

    That can be Dex’s piece. I just can’t tell him that yet. 

    “Do you have any other homework tonight?” Fitz asks, leaning across the island counter to match Dex. 

    “That really is your only mode of conversation, isn’t it?” 

    “Yeah. It’s sad, isn’t it? I’d ask if you had any new personal projects going, but I think I know the answer to that.” 

    “You do?”

    “You’re fully occupied solving my life’s problems. You don’t have enough time to start something else.”

    “It’s lines of reasoning like that one that make me want to start a new project just to prove you wrong, and I hope you know that.”

    “And now I can ask you very nicely to channel that feeling and work on the presentation we have tomorrow. Unless you forgot that it was tomorrow. Did I mention it was tomorrow? We have a presentation tomorrow and we are extraordinarily unprepared.” 

    Dex tilts his head, considering. “No, I don’t think you did,” he replies flatly. 

    “So do you think it might be a good idea to get the slides open so that progress can be made towards readiness?”

    “No,” Dex replies, getting his laptop out of his backpack and hitting the keyboard approximately fifty percent more than necessary to make it turn on and start functioning. 

     Its fan immediately starts running, producing a high-pitched whine on top of the normal laptop fan sounds. 

    Dex smacks the side of the keyboard, likely an effort to make it stop doing that. It doesn’t. “Curse you, thermodynamics,” he whispers, along with a few stronger suggestions for what friction can do to itself. 

    “I’m going to be hunted for sport if Bex hears this. I’m going to my room. If you need me, you can literally just text me. You’ve done it before. I believe in you.” 

    I don’t know which one of your siblings that is, but I’m not letting you go back in that room while that cork board is still there. I need a focused Dex and that would not be a focused Dex. 

    “Or we could head down into the basement,” Fitz suggests. “I can probably still hear the oven going off from down there and being in the room where we interrogated our suspects seems kind of fitting.” 

    “That’s fair,” Dex says, picking up his still-open backpack and laptop as he begins to descend the stairs. 

    Fitz tries to brush away some of the suspicious white powder dusting the front of his shirt. It doesn’t do a whole lot, but maybe now it won’t be as ground into the carpet lining the stairs and lower level. 

    Fitz finds Dex arguing with one of his siblings—it might be Lex, but it’s difficult to tell. All of their names rhyme because their dad thinks he’s hilarious, only making Fitz’s life more difficult. 

    “Why are you turning down the opportunity to go trash my entire room?” Dex demands. 

    “Why are you so willing to give me that opportunity? Last time you were this agreeable, you planted stink bombs under your bed!”

    “To be fair, that was objectively hilarious.”

    Maybe-Lex smiles. “It was fun banishing Rex outside for a week.”

    I remember that happening. 

    “Just find somewhere else to go live for the next couple of hours. If that ends up being outside, that’s your problem. I have the Fitz and since he’s a guest in our house, that means he, and by extension I, have superiority.” 

    The corners of Fitz’s mouth widen into a smile and his heart flutters slightly. 

    Hearing him use that argument never gets old. It’s kind of pathetic. I’m kind of pathetic. 

    More-than-likely-Lex huffs and stomps up the stairs. The carpet muffles most of his anger. 

    “Sorry about him,” Dex says as he sits at the table, friction causing the laptop to shriek as he slides it back because he put it down too close to the edge. Fitz’s ears want to bleed. At least the journey got the fan to stop screeching for whatever reason. 

    Fitz takes a seat across from him, the chair still ominously warm from probably-Lex sitting there. And then, from the all-encompassing silence left behind, comes the sound of Pop Rocks emanating from the table itself. 

    Fitz looks up to find Dex moving his laptop to the far end of the table so he can get a closer look. 

    “What on Earth was Lex doing here?” Dex whispers to himself. 

    Ah, so I was right on which one it was.  

    That’s not the takeaway you were supposed to make there.

    Fitz shrugs. 

    Dex pokes the table. “It’s sticky.”

    “Now I definitely don’t want to know.” 

    “Not like that. Get your mind out of—” An idea blossoms in Dex’s mind, and without any warning or elaboration, he runs upstairs. 

    A cabinet slams closed. “Where’d you put the baking soda?”

    “To the right of the pantry, top cabinet, bottom shelf, right side.”

    “Thank you!” he yells, running back down the stairs and to the table, becoming a living example of the doppler effect. He pours far more than the recommended serving size of baking soda onto the table, and the popping sound intensifies. 

    Dex swears triumphantly. 

    “Care to elaborate?”

    “No,” he says, looking at Fitz, dimples prominent and so close Fitz could probably count his freckles. “Bicarbonates react with acids to form a salt, water, and carbon dioxide.” 

    “I know. Why is that relevant right now?” 

    “I just dumped an entire mountain of baking soda on the table and it started reacting with whatever Lex left there. That means whatever he left there was more than likely an acid. And, no, it’s not that kind of acid. Probably. It wouldn’t leave gook on the table like that.”

    Fitz’s eyes narrow but he doesn’t ask why Dex would have this information. The answer is probably a Wikipedia rabbit hole. “Do you know what it could be then?” 

    ���This isn’t a very helpful answer, but, no, I don’t, and I don’t know what other tests I can do to narrow it down from literally everything else.” 

    “Don’t you literally carry around a gallon of Benedict’s solution? I fully believe there’s something in your backpack that can solve this conundrum.” 

    “Not quite that much, but, yeah, I’ve got some. For reasons we do not discuss.” 

    It’s because it’s the forbidden gatorade flavor.

    “I’ve got the oven going if you need hot water. If that would help. I don’t know. There’s a reason I just let you do the chem labs without getting myself between you and a bottle of one-molar HCl.” 

    “That’s a valid solution to the problem. I wouldn’t get between me and my son HCl either. Benedict’s might be helpful. Then we’ll be able to figure out where to go from there.”

    “The presence of reducing sugars,” Fitz corrects, and he feels way too proud of himself at knowing that fact. Even when Dex already knows it. 

    Dex grumbles, “Close enough.”

    He runs back upstairs to get a spoon and a small glass, filled with a tiny splash of water. He scrapes off a corner, and it forms an off-white peak on the edge of the spoon before it gets dunked into the water and swirled into solution. A few added drops of Benedict's solution makes it a pale blue color before Dex runs it back upstairs once again to throw it in the oven. 

    “That glass better not shatter into my lemon squares!” Fitz yells, but Dex probably isn’t listening. One must respect the science, and the lemon squares get to deal with the collateral damage. 

    Yeah, the crunchy topping is on purpose. It’s isomalt. Totally. 

    Dex spends a very long thirty seconds pacing, the floorboards creaking with every step he takes. 

    He was probably counting in his head, because when he decides the timer is up, he’s running, once again, to the oven to get the sample out. 

    “It’s orange!” Dex yells, echoing through the house. That must be a wild sentence out of context. 

    “That’s a good thing, right?” 

    “That means you’re gonna move on to the next phase of inquiry: the smell test.”

    “Why aren’t you doing it?”

    “Do you really think I just let you sniff the chemicals in the lab for fun? I don’t smell things very well. I’ve got a library of, like, five things, and even then it has to have a lot of smell for me to even be slightly aware of its presence. We’ve been over this.”

    There’s so many reasons why this could very easily be a very bad idea, some of them involving ammonium hydroxide or chemicals like it, but Fitz is just going to trust Dex’s omnipotent chemistry knowledge. He’s done it all year, and he’s not failing AP chem yet. 

    So long as Fitz is well enough to take the final so that he can definitely not cheat off Dex on it, it should be fine. 

    Dex comes rushing back down the stairs, nearly spilling the forbidden now-orange juice on the carpet.

    He finds Fitz trying to waft the airborne aromatic molecules into the air, his nose slowly inching closer and closer to it. 

    Something registers, and he has to have smelled it wrong. His brows knit together. “There’s citrus in there.”

    The pieces click together—the smell, the stickiness, the presence of reducing sugars in a place where they typically wouldn’t be, and the acid. Citric acid, malic acid, ascorbic acid. Maybe some other acids. 

    “...These are the lemon squares.” Fitz takes a deep breath, before quietly asking, a dark undercurrent running through his words, “Have you been the one taking them?” 

    After all this, all the work Dex has claimed to have done to try to find them, if he knew where they were the entire time that’s—that’s absolutely unthinkable. And if he wasn’t the one to squirrel them away, having them end up in his house of all places is terrifyingly coincidental. 

    Dex puts his hands up defensively, his voice rising in pitch and threatening to crack. “Let’s think about this logically. I would’ve known exactly why you made those. Do you really think I would take them? Do you really think that little of me?”

    Fitz stands. “Then how else would your siblings get their grubby little hands on them?”

    “Why do you expect me to know? Why don’t you go ask them if you’re so concerned with where my priorities lie?” 

    “Keefe,” comes a yelled voice from the great beyond of the upstairs. So quick to throw their source under the bus, but that also means Fitz’s best friend lied to both Fitz and Dex without so much as a moment of hesitation. 

    …I’m not even disappointed, Fitz thinks, and that realization is…kind of depressing. 

    But that also means Dex’s siblings have another source if they’re willing to give that one up so easily. 

    Just because this one case might have been solved doesn’t mean the possibility is removed from the future. They’re going to find a way. At least finals season is upon us, so the baked goods will be plentiful because the stress is plentiful. 

    “I’m sorry,” Fitz whispers, staring at the baking soda hills to deliberately avoid eye contact with Dex and his perfect periwinkle eyes. 

    Dex sits across from him. “I can’t apologize for their actions, but I can apologize for not thinking of them during my whole process. I just figured I would know if they were stashing it in my own house, you know?”

    “Yeah, that’s fair. I don’t trust Biana enough to use that same logic with her, but I get where it would be coming from if I did.” 

    Dex smiles softly. “How mad would you be if I were to join you on that particular endeavor?” 

    Fitz smiles. “So mad.” 

    Dex takes Fitz’s hand, smearing the baking soda across the table. 

    And then the oven timer goes off. The lemon squares are done, and all that’s left is for them to cool off and be powdered sugar. Then they’re ready to go for tomorrow’s presentation. It’s not the most prepared he’s ever been, but at this point, it’s good enough. Monosaccharides and disaccharides aren’t that bad to just completely ramble about with no notes. Dex knows too much for his own good anyway. Between that, some unhelpful clip art, and a four in the morning rabbit hole, everything will be fine. 

    Besides, it’s not like any of the other students will care. They get snacks. 

    “You, uh, might want to go check that before they get taken,” Dex suggests. 

    “Yeah, yeah, I know, I know,” Fitz mumbles, beginning the long journey of trudging up the stairs. 

[alexie-writes]

Extra Ordinary Chapter 8

A/N: Welcome back! We'll be getting into the plot of the series pretty soon, so thanks for sticking with me!

Series Masterlist Prev Next

Chapter Eight: Birthdays

Essie was still fast asleep when Ostin got up the next morning. He may have been able to get up before 10AM every day, but Essie needed her extra sleep, after staying up from both the party and reading until the early hours of the morning.

Ostin woke her up at noon, much to her dismay. She dragged herself out of bed, got ready for the day begrudgingly, and met Michael and Ostin across the hall in the former's apartment.

She opened the apartment door just as Ostin said, “Dude, you’re not gonna believe it.”

Michael unhooked the clips from his fingers, cringing at the marks they’d left. “What?”

“This thing goes to a thousand volts and it’s saying ‘error.’ You’re definitely getting more electric.”

Michael sat down on one of the kitchen bar stools and began putting a watch back on. “Do you think it will stop?”

“I don’t know. No wonder Taylor’s cell didn’t work.” Ostin answered, as he finished scribbling down his notes in the same notebook that Essie had used earlier that week, sans the glitter pen. “So is Taylor really coming over for cake and ice cream?”

“She said she was. Then afterward we can have our first official meeting of the Electroclan. Morning, Essie.” he added as an afterthought.

“That’s sick!” Ostin said, grinning.

“Morning. Or, afternoon, I guess.” Essie yawned, sitting down on the dark gray living room couch, picking up one of the pine green throw pillows to hug.

“If you’d gone to sleep by midnight, you wouldn’t be so tired right now.” Ostin said, putting the notebook back in his bag.

“I know, but I wanted to finish my book, it was the last one in the series.” Essie whined, picking at the sleeves on her sweater.

“It still would’ve been there when you woke up.” Ostin said, turning towards her.

“Fine. Whatever, Mom.” Essie said, flipping him off.

Ostin made a face at her.

“Wow. Real mature, you two.” Michael said, laughing at the two of them. Sometimes, the two seemed like they were twins, not cousins. But that could’ve just been a side effect of living together for the past six years.

The three took turns playing halo on Michael’s XBox for the next few hours, and took a break around three to head down to the 7-Eleven on the corner to get Slurpees. They split up at five to go eat dinner, and then met back up at Michael’s apartment to wait for Mrs. Vey to come back.

At around six forty, Mrs. Vey walked through the front door carrying a chocolate cake. “I got your favorite cake,” she said, looking at Michael, before turning, “Hi, Ostin, Essie.”

“Hi Mrs. Vey. How was work?” Ostin asked.

“It was work.” she said, sighing as she put the cake on the counter. “Did you three have dinner?” she asked, just as she noticed the dishes in the sink. “Oh, you did. Mac n cheese.”

“Sorry, I didn’t do the dishes, I got distracted with the game.” Michael said, scratching the back of his neck.

“That’s okay, it’s your birthday.”

“I can clean up, so you can rest.” Essie said, nodding her head towards the dishes.

“Thank you very much, Essie. That would be lovely.” Mrs. Vey said, smiling at her.

“Of course!” Essie said, getting up from her spot on the couch, crossing the room.

Mrs. Vey went to her bedroom to get changed, and Essie filled up the sink with warm water and dish soap. She began to clean, and was halfway through cleaning out the pot of mac n cheese on the stove, the doorbell rang.

“Michael, would you get that?” Mrs. Vey shouted from her room.

“Got it, Mom.” Michael said, opening the door to Taylor standing in the hall.

“Happy birthday,” Taylor said, handing Michael a wrapped box. “This is for you.”

“Wow. Thank you.” Michael said, blinking rapidly. “Come in.”

“Thanks.”

“Hey, Taylor!” Essie said, waving at her, hand covered in soap bubbles from the dishes.

“Hey, Essie.” Taylor said, smiling. She turned to Ostin. “Hey, Tex.”

Ostin looked vaguely confused about the name, but he’d basically given up after all of the wrong names the past day. “Hey, Taylor.”

Mrs. Vey walked out of her room, and smiled as she saw Taylor. “You must be Taylor.” she said, holding her hand out to shake.

“Hello. It’s so nice to meet you.” Taylor said, shaking Mrs. Vey’s hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, too.” she said, looking around the group.

“Taylor brought me a present,” Michael said, lifting the box up.

“How thoughtful. Michael, will you get the ice cream from the freezer?”

“Sure.”

Essie let the dishwater out of the sink, as Mrs. Vey brought Taylor over to the dining table.

“So, Ridley’s an interesting name. Is it Scottish?” Mrs. Vey asked.

“No, it means ‘cleared woods’ in old English. So I’m like a vacant lot.” Taylor answered, smiling.

Mrs. Vey laughed. “Have you lived around here for a while?”

“I’ve lived in the same house my whole life.”

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“I have two older brothers. They both go to college. So it’s kind of like being an only child.”

“Well, we’re happy you could make it tonight. Just go ahead and sit down, and I’ll get the cake.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Vey.”

Mrs. Vey walked back into the kitchen, where Essie was drying her hands, and Michael was scooping ice cream. “What a cute girl,” she whispered to Michael, conspiratorially. “Well done.”

Essie left the kitchen in time to hear Michael sigh, “C’mon, Mom. She’s just a friend.”

Sure, a friend who was the prettiest girl in their grade that he had a crush on, who also had a thing for him. It was time for Essie to up her wingman game.

Mrs. Vey lit the candles on the cake, then walked it out to the table, where everyone else had sat down. The four of them sang “Happy Birthday” to Michael, and then all got a slice of cake.

Over the next hour, the five of them all talked and ate more of the cake. Taylor and Mrs. Vey really hit it off, and they made up most of the conversation.

“When I was five, my mom made this Beauty and the Beast cake with all of these plastic trees and they caught on fire so we had a big forest fire on our kitchen table until my dad blew it out with the fire extinguisher. He’s a little extreme that way. It put out the fire but ruined the cake, so my mom ended up putting candles on Twinkies.” Taylor told them, laughing.

Everyone laughed except Ostin, who likely would’ve reacted the way Taylor’s dad had.

“When is your birthday, Taylor?” asked Mrs. Vey.

“Sunday.”

Mrs. Vey turned to Michael in disbelief. “Michael, why didn’t you tell me? This should have been a joint party.”

Michael shrugged. “It’s just cake,”

Taylor, sensing the sudden awkward atmosphere, broke the silence. “So, Michael, are you going to open my gift?”

“Yes.” he said, picking up the gift, and opening it to reveal a black hoodie with their school’s name written on it.

“Do you like it? I thought you could, like, wear it to games.” Taylor said, grinning hopefully.

Michael held it up. “It’s awesome, thanks!”

“Cool, my birthday is in October.” Ostin said, looking from the hoodie to Taylor.

“Mine’s in July.” Essie added, not wanting to feel left out.

Mrs. Vey smiled at the group of them. “That’s a very sweet gift.” she said to Taylor.

Taylor beamed. “It’s nothing.”

The group of them continued talking and eating cake and ice cream until nine, when Mr.s Vey gathered the dishes to start washing them. “I think I’m going to call it a night. Taylor, do you have a ride home?”

“My dad’s coming to pick me up.”

“Well, it was very nice to meet you. I hope we’ll be seeing you again.”

Taylor smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. Vey. I’m glad you invited me.”

“You’re very welcome. Goodnight, Ostin, Essie.”

“Goodnight Mrs. Vey, thanks for the cake.” Ostin smiled at her.

“Thank you Mrs. Vey, goodnight!” Essie waved.

Mrs. Vey walked over to Michael, and kissed his forehead. “I love you. Happy birthday.”

“Thanks, Mom. I love you too.” Michael replied.

Mrs. Vey put the remaining dishes in the sink, then walked into her room.

“Your mom is really nice.” Taylor said, after Mrs. Vey had closed her room door.

“She’s a babe,” Ostin said.

“Ew, Ostin.” Essie said, making a face at him.

“Dude, she’s my mother. You’ve got to stop saying that.” Michael said, grimacing.

“Sorry.” Ostin said in a tone that told them he wasn’t really that sorry.

Taylor laughed at the trio. “Well, she is. I hope I’m that hot when I’m a mom.”

Ostin changed the subject before they could continue. “So, let’s get our meeting sorted. Who’s going to call it to order?”

Taylor and Michael looked at each other.

“I think you should be the president.” Taylor said to him.

Essie smirked as she bent down to get her notebook out of her bag.

“Why me?” Michael looked at her, confused.

“Because I said so.” Taylor enunciated, grinning.

“I second that,” Ostin said.

“Third.” Essie said, pulling out her glitter pen.

Michael looked even more confused, but shook his head, like he wasn’t going to question that. “Okay, I call the first meeting of the Electroclan to order. Now what?”

“We need to follow up on our last meeting.” Taylor said.

“We need minutes.” Ostin said.

“No more than thirty, my dad’s coming to pick me up.”

“No, minutes are our notes from previous meetings.” Essie corrected, motioning to her notes.

“Oh! Sorry,” Taylor said, shyly.

Essie began to read off, “In the last unofficial meeting, Taylor shared that she learned you were both born in the same hospital, which was an unlikely coincidence. Then, Ostin said the fact that you both have powers is also highly unlikely. Third, the records from that hospital from April 16th through April 27th of ‘96, have been erased.”

Taylor whistled lowly. “Yikes.”

“Thanks, Essie.” Michael said.

Ostin nodded in approval. “I have something very important to add to the record.” he said, putting emphasis on the word ‘very.’

“Go ahead,”

“I discovered something very disturbing. During those eleven days, there were 287 births in Pasadena County.” he paused for effect.

“What’s so disturbing about that?” Taylor asked, confused.

Ostin looked up at her, annoyed. “May I continue?”

“Sorry…”

“59 of those babies were born at Pasadena General Hospital, where you two were born,” he motioned to Michael and Taylor. “As I looked over the records, I came across something very, very, peculiar.” he paused for effect again. “42 of the children born during that time didn’t live more than two days.”

“What?” the other three said, nearly in unison.

“I checked the same time period a month before and there was only one baby that didn’t live.”

“Forty times the number of…?” Michael couldn’t finish his sentence.

“That’s so sad, did it say what happened to them?” Taylor asked.

Essie felt like she was going to be sick.

“Unknown causes. But it gets stranger. Only 17 of the babies born at Pasadena General lived, and that includes you two.” Ostin motioned to Michael and Taylor, again.

Michael leaned forward. “You’re saying that out of 59 births, only 17 babies survived?”

“Precisely.” Ostin folded his hands in front of him, looking just as sick as Essie felt. “It couldn’t be a coincidence. A 4200% increase in death in an 11-day period and the records of those 11 days disappear. I’m guessing that whatever caused those deaths has something to do with whoever destroyed the records.”

“We need to find out what was different about those 11 days,” Taylor said.

“My thinking exactly. Essie, did you find anything?” Ostin said, turning to her.

“I’ve found that there was a shockingly low amount of coverage on a ridiculous amount of infant deaths, but I haven’t really had a chance to check that much.” Essie said, frowning. She didn’t like how this was looking. Who would’ve had the influence to silence that many people in LA of all places? If there’s anything she knew about LA, it’s that there were people searching for gossip everywhere. “We can get more information in a few days, I have plenty of time tomorrow.”

They sat in silence for a minute, before Ostin piped up. “We tested Michael’s voltage earlier today.”

“Oh?” Taylor asked, hoping for anything to get her mind off of all of that death.

“Yes. We had tested it earlier this week, and it has increased by at least a few hundred volts since then. The multimeter measures up to one thousand volts, and it was saying ‘error’.” Ostin said, looking proud of him.

“That is a bit of a change. Why is it happening now?”

“I don’t know, but I’m hoping to find out. In the meantime, I’m going to have to look into getting a multimeter that measures higher voltage.” Ostin said, frowning at the machine on the counter.

“So. Is there anything else we need to go over?” Essie asked.

“Not that I can think of.” Ostin said. The rest of them shook their heads, agreeing with him.

“Alright then. This first meeting of the Electroclan is adjourned.” Michael said.

“Good timing, too. My dad just texted.” Taylor said, holding up her phone. “I’ve got to go.” she said, picking up her bags.

“Bye, Taylor, goodnight!” Essie called after her, putting her notebook and pen back in her bag.

“Bye,” Ostin said.

“Bye!” Taylor waved at them.

“I’ll walk you out,” Michael followed her to the door.

Taylor smirked at him. “My, what a gentleman.” she said, taking his arm and laughing as they walked out.

“Good for them.” Essie said, grinning at the closed door her friends had exited.

“What do you mean ‘good for them’?” Ostin asked, confused.

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.” Essie said, ruffling Ostin’s hair as he made a face at her.

The two walked out of the door and crossed over to their family’s apartment.

Essie went to the computer, dreading the research she was going to have to do. She hated that it was even something that had happened. She sighed, as she turned on the computer. It was going to be a long night.

[crystalcatgamer]

Attach a song to every letter of your username

I got tagged by @foolofatook001, the game is to write one song for every letter in your url, and then tag as many people as there are letters in your url. Gonna be tough... songs are English unless stated otherwise 🎵

C - CHILLIN' [Paradox Live | JP]

R - Real Friends [Camila Cabello]

Y - Youth [Daughter]

S - Soap [The Oh Hellos]

T - This Side Of Paradise [Coyote Theory]

A - All Too Well [Taylor Swift]

L - Let the Wind Tell You [ChiliChill | CN]

C - Coffee [Jack Stauber's Micropop]

A - Alone [Marshmello]

T - This Is Home [Cavetown]

G - Goodbye, Ms. Flower Thief [メル | JP]

A - Anxiety [Blackbear]

M - Mr. Forgettable [David Kushner]

E - ERROR [Niki | JP]

R - Remedi [Tulus | IDN]

And tagging! Uhhh, 15 letters… @milkmynk @reader-of-the-underworld @soupyshroom @shiroyu606 @eclectickefi @ellias-elliott @thenamelesshaven @bruciemilf @batcassed @fennzer @pointvee @imperialkatwala @xeitreial anddddd another ping for @corvidaemorrow for 15 ;)

[stillwnder]

NAME:  Harriet Hook SPECIES: human ORIENTATION: demisexual/ biromantic GENDER: female BIRTH DATE: August 1st, year unknown (aged 27)

APPEARANCE

eyes the color of forget-me-nots with hair the color of hay at harvest. She is a spindle of a woman, tall and whipcord-like in stature.

face claim: Abigail Cowen

RELATIONSHIPS

FAMILY: James Hook (father/ alive), Harry Hook( half-brother/ alive), Calista Jane "CJ" Hook (half-sister/ alive)

SIGNIFICANT OTHER:  verse dependent

CHILDREN: it's complicated

PERSONALITY

Quiet by nature, but strong-willed in the right company. Self-doubting yet set in her ways, she is most ruthless when polite-- a dated woman of passing melancholy.

NEED TO KNOWS

She acts as the ship's doctor as well as a surrogate mother to many of the children of the crew. Neither is a role she chose for herself, but are roles that were thrust onto her. Prior to this she was under the care of Mr. Smee and at the age of six was given to the ships cook to apprentice. This apprenticeship did not last long as she was thrust where ever she was needed ( ships boy or powder monkey) and often beaten if she was perceived as in the way or did not catch on quickly enough. She's been essentially treated as a slave and has been assaulted on several occasions.

As life on the Isle had limited waters to sail, more children were born, abandoned on the ship, or simply sought out pirates and dock work, all of which was given to Harriet. She's usually given children who are toddlers between the ages of one - two, with CJ being her youngest as a baby no more than a few months old. She's stretched very thin, but will do whatever she can to protect her kids.

Harriet is five years older than Harry and seven years older than CJ. CJ is treated a little better ( and also a lot worse) than all of the other children because she was give to Harriet as an infant and because she is only of the very few other girls aboard the ship. Her relationship with Harry is a bit complicated, though Harriet simply says it is because he left the crew to join up with Uma, but she still brings him a new homemade soap bar for every birthday as well as berates him for getting hurt ( she especially nasty if he doesn't come to her when he's hurt).

Harriet, having been mostly exposed to a very toxic masculine environment with limited access to other women, is very internally misogynistic. She has a very 17th/18th perception of women from the crew and is treated that way by the crew. she's often confined to the lower decks when there is conflict ( especially if it involves her or any person's attraction to her). She'll refer to Hook as the Captain and the rest of the men in the crew as Sir, including Harry after he leaves. She has very little freedom to do what she wants.

Harriet is skilled with a rifle and pistols. She is the best shot on the Jolly Roger and with great trial and error practice, never misses. She prefers guns as her biggest weakness is close combat. She can't fight with a sword, though she does have a knife.

She loves to fish, particularly with a hook and line ( she can let it hang over the ship's edge, or lay on top of one of the canons), and when allowed to leave the ship, with spear. she's taught both Harry and CJ to fish with a spear, and Harry to fish with a net.

[adultswim2021]

The Boondocks #24: “Invasion of the Katrinians” | December 10, 2007 - 11:30PM | S02E09

I never really read the Boondocks comic, but the one time I did happened to catch it was the day after the 2004 presidential election. The comic, if you don’t feel like clicking the link I very nicely supplied for you, consisted of “The Boondocks Kids” (as they like to be called) musing how the comics page seems to be slightly behind on current events. Tellingly, they refer to the election having ended, but don’t discuss the outcome. Eventually this strip ran, with Huey screaming “D**NIT!”, and then remarking that he’d been holding it in for a couple weeks. 

The animated show is even more delayed. Most traditionally-animated television shows are like this. This one involves the wake of Hurricane Katrina. Huey even gets the viewers up to speed by describing the devastation felt by those affected by Katrina in a little opening narration bit. This is probably a good thing; there are actual adults walking around now who weren’t born or too young to remember this news story. 

Not to brag, but I was a young adult living in Northern California working in a movie theater at the time of Katrina. I was working in the snack bar, and I slightly over-filled a person’s soda, causing the soda to bubble out of the straw hole in the plastic lid and spill slightly out into the crevices of said lid. I apologized for the unsightly mess: “Sorry, it’s a little over-filled,” I apologized. “Better over-filled than under-filled!” the customer replied, being a good sport. “There are people in New Orleans right now who might beg to differ” I shot back, EXTREMELY quickly. It’s not very cool to take pride in your own jokes, especially when they receive blank stares. This one received a blank stare. Unsatisfied, I proudly repeated the joke to co-workers (which is lame, I know this already) and also got blank stares and had to explain it. President Bush, and also, the customers and staff at Movies 10 in Redding, CA, don’t care about black people. 

That’s a pretty long intro for an episode that I’m basically about to call “fine”. This episode is fine. It’s a little comedy of errors about the Freemans taking in Robert’s cousin’s family who were displaced by Katrina. They are bad house guests, and Granddad does everything to try and be rid of them without seeming like a heartless piece of shit. They are waiting for their check from Fema, which keeps getting deferred for various reasons.

Like I said, this one’s fine. Not terrible, but not exceptional. I feel like this season has been significantly less satirical than the first? Episodes are maybe a little more satirical than your average animated sitcom like The Simpsons, but that’s not too hard of an accomplishment, especially when comparing the mid-00’s version of the Simpsons. South Park was way more outwardly satirical but is a much whiter, much more libertarian show. Also, South Park had the animation style that let them be extremely topical. They would sometimes reach for the stars and come up short.

This episode IS satirical; Robert’s treatment of his family has real-world parallels, but the story is more focused on characters having personality clashes. This episode isn’t on a soap box, but the soap box can be seen in the subtext. It’s a lighter touch, and that doesn’t have to be a bad thing.

MAIL BAG

Sorry to hear you didn't like the WaitMate sketch that much. I workshopped it with Mr. Goldblum back in the day. Was it the cartoon? Was it not era-appropriate animation?

The cartoon was just fine. Maybe the best part of the sketch. The sketch was fine. I didn’t say I didn’t like it. How dare you.

Really like the Beach Blast song. As good as anything the B-52s did. I'm serious! They really do paint Quall up to look like a ten cent ho though.

She is a skanky little bitch, isn’t she? But, I love her...

The music that plays at the start of Zan's memory tape sounds like something from Earthbound, doesn't it?

Right on the money, SMAAAASH!!

The biggest bummer about the Sam Hyde stuff is that Connor O'Malley has ripped his shit off wholesale without any of the transgressiveness that made Sam interesting. Thankfully adultswim hasn't been stupid enough to give him a show.

I know enough people who HATE Connor O’Malley and consider his comedy to be too revolting. Personally I think he right in the sweet spot of rude-enough. I crave rudeness. I’m practically Rude Dog and the Dweebs over here.

[alchemistaxolotl]

This is my first time actually ever properly posting on Tumblr so I am really new to this 😅 feel free to give me suggestions on how to improve and sorry if there’s any spelling errors

Keaya tapped his fingers against the table as he looked around the interrogation room. It was very similar to the ones that they have but the one difference being at the wall is completely white he felt uneasy not because of the room but because of what they took when they first basically kidnapped him they took away his eyepatch claiming that it was “a danger” and “could hurt someone” which made him scoff at the thought that he would even attempt to harm someone using his eyepatch all things

But without his eyepatch to cover his eye he had to find another solution because in no way in hell did he trust these people to see what was beneath the eyepatch so he ended up just resorting to using his hair it may not be the most comfortable thing but it was the best option that he had.

Keaya was brought out of his thought when he heard the sound of a door opening and then closing with a soft clicking sound

A pink head person walked into his view that seem to be wearing a mask covering half of their face mask was similar to the ones you would see in the theatre except cut in half they were wearing a white coat with a clipboard and hand

“Greetings, Mr?”

Keaya quickly slipped back into his charismatic persona, not letting it slip especially in front of these people

“Keaya” he wasn’t gonna give his last name even if it didn’t mean much to him he didn’t trust these people at all

“well then greeting Mr Keaya you can call me Dr soap”

Keaya did not question the name and just assumed that it was some type of code name they used to protect their workers identity

“New let’s get along with the interview to let you know I will be recording this for future review”

Keaya just let out a soft Mhm as a response

soap press play on the voice recorder that was next to them and began to speak

“this is recording #4 I will be interviewing Keaya number not yet assigned him”

The words number not yet assigned caught his attention what do they mean by that where they going to number him just like some cattle?

[starlightcevans]

Your Ghost - A Ransom Drysdale story

Hello everyone! I have written stories on Wattpad, but I have decided to share the stories on Tumblr too. I have written two full stories based on Ransom Drysdale. I am currently busy on the third story. I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing the story.

A lot of thought and work was put into this story.

Warning: This story contains mature content: Strong language, and smut. I'd recommend 18+ to read this story, but viewer discretion is advised. Please be aware that this fan fiction will contain strong language, explicit scenes that may not be suitable for younger viewers, and scenes of alcohol. There is mature content in this fan fiction.

Please note that this is purely fiction writing. I do not own any of the characters, this is purely for fiction.

Feedback is always welcome. Please let me know if you like this story or not.

If you find any grammar errors, please let me know.

Link to the Wattpad story: https://www.wattpad.com/story/230456351-your-ghost

EVELYN:

I rummage through my cupboard to see what food I have left in my apartment. I am running late already and I have errands to run today.

My phone buzzes and I see who it is.

"Hello H -Mr. Thrombey." I answer on the first ring.

"Evelyn darling! Can you pop through to my place today? I would like us to discuss your book." Harlan kindly asks.

I look at my wall clock. "Of cause I can. I just need to run a few errands before I can see you. Would that be okay?"

"That sounds perfect. Fran will meet you at the door. I have given Marta the day off because she has family business to attend to. And call me Harlan dear." Harlan warmly says and hangs up the phone.

I smile to myself. I was taught as I grew up to respect my elders. When I first met Harlan, I called him "Mr. Thrombey.", but he tells me to call him by his first name. I did seem to have certain faces glaring at me every time I called him "Harlan".

I look at the wall clock and curse. It is nearly the afternoon and I have slept for most of the morning. The shops will close soon. Thank you Sundays!

I finish packing my lunchbox for the day because I really don't have to make breakfast. I know I am going to be on the road for most of the time, so I need to pack some food for the road. This time I remembered to actually pack myself some healthy food - well if you consider a packet of salted chips, crackers, mixed nuts and a soda a healthy snack.

I climb into my car and my phone buzzes. It's a text from him. I don't bother reading the text because I have more important tasks to do today. I throw my phone on the seat next to me and I jolt when I see myself in the rear view mirror. My hair is still in an untidy bun from when I woke up and my face looks pale. I grab what makeup I have in my bag and try to make myself look good - at least presentable. I look down to see that I am wearing normal clothing and not my pajamas.

I start the engine and pull out of my driveway. I first drive to the hardware store. Before I enter the store, I reach for my phone to view what I need to purchase.

Light bulbs X2

Electrical Cable X1

20L Lilac paint X2

20L Undercoat paint X1

I was fortunate enough to have one of the staff members carry the paint tins to my car.

"Thanks Larry." I look at the tall, lanky man's name tag.

"Anytime Ma'am. Don't forget that we do offer a service where our selected staff members will come out and paint whatever you need painted." He smiles at me. I thank him and tell him that I will think about it. My father has offered to help me paint the interior of my apartment.

The next stop I drive to is the grocery store. I take a look at my grocery list on my phone as I grab hold of a trolley and start to scratch out what I am picking up:

Broccoli

Chamomile tea - For Harlan

Avocado - Ripe and ready

1 Bag Apples

1 Pack Grapefruit

2L Milk X2

Cucumber

Cauliflower

Sweet Potatoes

Can of baked beans X3

Pet food X1

Spaghetti pasta

Spaghetti Sauce

Loaf of Bread

Chocolate bars

Garbage bags

Laundry Detergent

Body soap

Once I am done collecting the fruit and vegetables, I walk down the hot beverage section when all of a sudden, I accidentally ram right into someone.

"I am so sorry! I -" I stop talking when I realize who I rammed into.

"Linda!" I seem to sound surprised. This is a grocery store close to where she lives.

"I mean Mrs. Drysdale." I correct myself.

"Hello Evelyn. Long time and no see." She smiles, but her tone sounds condescending.

"I have been very busy lately. Work has been getting busier and I am also trying to renovate my apartment." I tell her in a calm voice.

Linda eyes my trolley while sticking her nose in the air. "Clearly." She blatantly says.

I clench my hands into fists, but immediately unclench them before Linda notices. She will know that she is getting in my head.

I look at my watch. "Anyway I have to get going. I need to finish my shopping." I plaster a smile on my face and pull my trolley forward, literally flying past her.

"When you are done with your shopping...say hello to my dad from me will you?" She says with a snarky attitude.

I halt in my tracks and in the process nearly knock someone else who was about to walk down the aisle. "Excuse me?" I am surprised that my tone is neutral.

Linda walks over to my trolley - in the elegant way that she does - and picks up the box of chamomile tea and raises it in the air. "My dad drinks this specific tea. I know you don't like this tea. If I recall last time you drank this tea, you said it tastes like dirt."

Damn it! I hate that she knows I dislike that tea.

I spout the first thought that enters my mind. "Sometimes trying something new is good."

I shut my mouth. Damn it! Why didn't I think before saying those words!

Linda raises a brow. "Sure...just like being with someone new is sometimes better than -"

"I have to go." I cut her off and immediately turn around. "Bye Li - I mean Mrs. Drysdale."

I walk as fast as my feet can take me until Linda is out of my sight.

I rush to collect the rest of my groceries and once I am in the queue, I look at my watch.

"Shit!" I say out loud and one mother gasps and covers her child's ears.

I apologize and look in the opposite direction. I need to get to Harlan's place. I don't like to keep him waiting. He is a busy man - even at 84 years old. I take out my phone and dial Harlan's home number. Harlan does not believe in having a cellphone. He says that cellphones brainwash young minds with all their fancy apps.

Harlan doesn't answer, so I leave a voice message stating that I am on my way to him soon.

I spot Linda leaving the store. I sigh. I think back to what she told me. She was right. Harlan loves chamomile tea, especially this makes one.

Once I am back in my car, I drive west to Natick to Harlan's house. As I pull up in front of the gothic revival house, I notice that there are no visitors - this time. I sigh in relief.

I am welcomed by Fran, the housekeeper, who looks at me up and down in the way she always does. I know I wasn't her biggest fan whenever I visit Harlan, but I can understand why so I don't blame her. I just made sure that I was kind to her.

"Hello Fran. How ar -"

"Mr. Thrombey is in his study. Would you like any assistance with anything?" Fran cuts me off and smiles at me as she speaks, but I know it is not sincere.

I smile warmly and look at my car. "I have some groceries which need to go into the fridge while I visit. Would that be alright? I mean I can -"

Fran storms past me, rolling her eyes no doubt, and waits by me car. I stand frozen for a couple of seconds, but I shake my head and walk to my car to open the boot and tell Fran what need to go into the fridge. She nods and does not speak to me again.

Once the groceries are in the fridge that needs to be there, I walk to Harlan's study. I open the door.

"Hello Ha - I mean Mr. Thrombey. I am sorry I ran late." I speak quietly.

"Come in child." Harlan softly speaks, closing a book he seemed to be writing in.

I close the door and walk into the cozy red study which has a low, curved ceiling. I sit on one of the two comfortable armchairs.

To this day I still feel slightly uneasy being in Harlan's study. It could be because of...I shake the thought out of my mind; I am here to speak to Harlan.

"You wanted to see me." I tell Harlan.

He looks up at me and takes off his glasses. He clasps his hands together. "Yes I did Evelyn. And for goodness sake! Call me Harlan. You are practically family." He smiles.

I shyly smile back.

Harlan continues. "How is your novel coming along?" He asks.

"It's going great." I lie.

Harlan frowns and smiles. "You can tell me if you are struggling with the story line."

I open my mouth to speak, but Harlan starts to talk. "Last time we were discussing your novel, you stated that you were worried where your story was heading."

I hold up my finger to interject, but decide against it.

Harlan chuckles. "I may be 83, but my memory is still strong. Well...most of the time."

We both start laughing.

I take out my notepad and pen and sit opposite Harlan to discuss a scene from my novel that I am struggling with.

I decided to write a mystery novel about a year ago and at first I did not want help with my story, but eventually my story was not making sense. So I eventually decided to speak to Harlan, who is a mystery novelist.

Fran made tea for the both of us. One chamomile tea for Harlan who hugged me because I found the brand he loves. The tea I drank was flavored, which I didn't mind.

Once we have spent an hour on my novel, we end up changing the subject to baseball for some reason. We discuss how we used to attend baseball matches and there was one time we went and Harlan caught the baseball. He picks the ball up from his desk and throws it to me and we both end up laughing.

Just then the door opens. I look to see who is at the door. "Fran. Is -"

I stop speaking and my laughter fades quickly.

"Hello Eve."

Wearing a white sweater under a brown trench coat, I stare at the man who once made me feel weak to my knees. Ransom.

[macchiatosdumptruck]

Holy shit. Now my brain is thinking of a cursed au where Amanda really is Terry’s long-lost daughter and Daniel loses it once the discovery is made because he slept with Terry that one time...

Or even better: Terry manipulated the whole setup between Amanda and Daniel so he could always have Danny-boy in his life. He plotted the wedding, now he’ll plot the divorce! Muhahaha!

All because Terry can’t do things in the normal way, he’s always gotta be extra as fuck.

I love cursed au's so I support this. I think I've actually had that kind of brain worm before actually?

Ngl I've also had thought of him being someone's brother in law or something and stealing Daniel away from them because obviously I watched too many soap operas as a kid. But it would be entertaining as fuck.

First situation is kind of a comedy of errors. Daniel learns he accidentally taste tested two generations.

Cue internal crisis.

The other one though ...

It's so Peak Evil

For Terry to be Mrs Robinson.

Amanda is in college (she's taken her mother's last name) and she brings home a cute boyfriend, about ten years older than her and about 15-20 years younger than Terry. (His 20's were wild)

Cue Daniel going all Dustin Hoffman

"are trying to seduce me Mr Silver?"

(in this au let's say they don't know each other--or for extra evil points the events of tkk3 went down and Terry tried and failed to move on and then this daughter that he probably didn't take care of, probably only learned of her once Amanda's mother died or something, so she's more just Some Random Kid brings home her boyfriend, and then low and behold, the hair and eyes aren't the only thing that runs in the family! It turns out a preternatural attraction to tiny Italian twinks is also a shared trait. )

Amanda: my dad stole my boyfriend 🙃

Amanda: my fiance is now my step dad. 🙃

Amanda: I am forcibly removing myself from this family. 🙃

Literally just. So Evil. Like. They tamed his character some for CK but if they had kept the exact level of Insanity for his character this is something I could see an 80's cartoon villian doing.