#please to be having auto-waterers again

[tetedurfarm]

workin' on a wide load

[brontes]

.

[sparklingchim]

summer playlist; m | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 4k

genre: hockeyplayer!jungkook, richgirlie!oc, college!au, fwb, brother's best friend

rating: 18+

warnings: semi public sex, blowjob, spanking, jk is truly obsessed w her <3, protected sex, nipple play, jk leaves a hickey n oc gets upset 🙄, spit, dirty talk, his necklace dangling in her face 😋, jk's rejection count: TWO !!!!, pls someone hug him 🫂, fingering, clit play, groping

summary: pov: jungkook dedicates a cute playlist to you and fucks you to it on the balcony.

a/n: ur honour i was forced to write this don't come for me !!! 👉🏼👈🏼 enjoy the filth 😋

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

One of your favourite forms of self-care and relaxation is Pilates.

You love dressing up in your cute gym wear sets – you own countless of them, even though you never actually work out in the gym; they’re purely for the aesthetics – and grabbing a big water bottle along with your laptop for at least half an hour dedicated me-time.

It’s a bright morning and you’re on the balcony. The sun is gently warming the air as you’re following a Pilates video on your laptop, which is propped up on the couch. Jungkook’s playlist, the one he created just for you, is playing softly in the background, providing the perfect soundtrack without drowning out the instructor’s voice.

Truly, nothing can beat these types of mornings.

But of course, something had to interrupt your peace.

While you’re on your hands and knees, your phone vibrates next to the mat. You ignore it the first few times, but it keeps buzzing. With an annoyed huff, you grab it and unlock the screen.

Jungkook’s spamming you with numerous messages.

Jungcock 😋

hi

morning

watchu up to

im taking a run in the park

and im boored

are u up?

entertain me

You

omg did you change your contact's name again

stop doing that

how can you text and run?

He doesn’t reply. Instead, he calls you on FaceTime.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Jungkook says in a raspy voice, the screen shaking a bit as he runs his miles around campus. “I’m good at everything I do.” His tight black tee clings to his chest, displaying his big pecs. You feel your breath hitch and you’re not sure if it’s from your workout or the sight of him.

“Your ego, Jungkook,” you reply, shaking your head in disbelief. “Too big.” You set your phone down with an exasperated sigh, leaning it against the feet of the couch. His eyes drift down to your cleavage.

“I think my ego is perfectly fine. Flashing his dimples as you roll your eyes at him. “What are you doing?” he asks, sounding a bit breathless – so hot, but you brush it off. You’re a strong girl, after all.

“Was doing Pilates until you rudely interrupted me,” you say skipping back on the YouTube video and picking up where you left off. “Don’t you have other girls to entertain you?”

“None of them are as cute as you,” he replies smoothly, and you can’t help but wish he wouldn’t be so good at flirting. “You look hot in that fit.”

“Thanks.” You follow the instructions on the screen. It turns out to be a bit harder to focus with a sweaty, ruggedly handsome Jungkook right beneath it.

“Are you listening to my playlist?”

“Yeah,” you admit, smiling.

Your thoughts wander back to the time Jungkook made that playlist for you. You had told him you never really listened to playlists, just played one song and let the auto-play feature do the rest. He was so stunned by that revelation that he spent an afternoon creating a cute little summer playlist just for you.

“Good choice,” he grins, clearly pleased with himself.

“I actually really like the playlist.”

“Of course. I make the best playlists,” he boasts, and you can’t help but chuckle at his confidence.

An exhausted sigh escapes your lips. After finishing the set, you change into the child pose and take deep breaths, relaxing the muscles.

“Taehyung’s at his morning class?” he asks.

“Uh-huh.”

“Can I come over?”

You lift your head to look at the screen. He’s running at a more leisurely pace, looking even more irresistible.

“Like, right now?”

“Yeah.”

“But I’m busy,” you argue, teasing him with a thoughtful pout. On the screen, the instructor announces that the little break is over, and you should get ready for your next set, but you’re not listening anymore. What’s happening on the little screen in front of you is far more enticing.

“Busy, huh?” he mocks with a smirk. “Maybe I can help you with what you’re doing.” His eyes light up with excitement as he pushes his hair from his forehead. “Or you wanna get busy together?”

Unfortunately, it seems you’re not as strong a girl as you thought. You’re very weak. His teasing question, coupled with his wicked tongue grazing his lip piercing, has you weak in the knees. You want nothing more than him on the couch and you straddling him.

“I won’t take up too much of your time,” he promises, the sweet smile back on his face. “Unless you want me to.” He raises an eyebrow teasingly.

“Just come over,” you tell him with a hint of irritation.

Jungkook has the audacity to chuckle, and you frown at him.

“Be quick, or I’ll change my mind.”

~

“Hi.” Jungkook pokes his head out from the balcony.

You squeal, placing a hand over your chest.

“Jungkook!” you exclaim. “What happened to ringing the bell like normal visitors?”

“Why did you give me the passcode then?” he retorts cheekily, ogling the snug fit of your gym wear.

“Because I had severe cramps and didn’t wanna get up from the couch.”

Thinking back on that specific day, you feel a spark of giddiness bloom in your chest. You had gotten your period, were battling atrocious cramps, and top of it, you had run out of pads. With Taehyung not home and needing them urgently, you knew Jungkook was always quick to reply to your texts. So, you decided to ask him if he could pick up some pads for you.

Twenty minutes later, he showed up at your door not only with the pads but also with snacks. You could see the faint pink flush on his cheeks when he asked, “Girls like eating chocolate when they’re on their period, right?” and hesitantly handed you the snacks.

And then, you did something that still makes you ponder at night – you cuddled without having had sex before. Oddly enough, it felt more intimate than any sexual encounter. Granted, you did get up to some naughty things afterwards, but still. Jungkook had cuddled you through your cramps and even endured watching reality tv shows he claims to despise once again.

“Well, I didn’t wanna disrupt you.” Jungkook walks over to the couch. He grabs your laptop, settles down, and places it on his lap. “Not now, anyway.”

You shift to sit on your knees. Briefly glancing at the screen where the instructor does the next set of exercises before drifting to Jungkook’s smitten face. His skin glistens with a thin sheen of sweat, and his chest still rises and falls a bit faster than usually.

You nod towards him, eyes clinging to his muscular thighs that peek out from his shorts. “How am I supposed to focus when-” When you look like that. But the words catch in your throat.

Jungkook is so shamelessly cocky, he places his hands behind his head. “When what?”

You sigh in irritation, close the video, and slide the laptop off his lap and onto the couch. He opens his legs for you. “Forget this,” you huff, placing your hands on his knees. Jungkook leans in, crashing his lips onto yours, his hand cupping your face.

The kiss is needy and messy. He teases you with his tongue, and you playfully respond until he tugs on your bottom lip with his teeth, causing you to moan and lose yourself in the feeling of his mouth. In less than a minute, Jungkook has you completely pliant in his embrace.

The balcony is surrounded by tall privacy screens and partially shaded by a large canopy, providing privacy from prying eyes.

Your hands slide up his legs, underneath his shorts. You feel his thighs flex on your palm and you squeeze them back in response.

“Wanna feel your mouth,” Jungkook whispers against your lips, sighing in pleasure when you just barely graze your fingers against his cock that strains against the material of his briefs.

Jungkook impatiently pulls down his shorts and briefs and you help him. His cock springs out and stands prettily against his abdomen. Your mouth waters and you have to tell yourself to calm down – he's just a boy and you’re too whipped.

You spit on his cock and coat his length with it. You twist your hand as you slowly pump him and he grows even harder within your grasp, becoming veiny and heavy. You stick out your tongue and give him a few licks over his tip. Jungkook sharply inhales, a gentle moan following right after when he sees you tapping his dick against your tongue.

“Fuck, babe.” He takes his cock in his own hand and continues tapping his head against your tongue. He runs his tip across your mouth too, watching with keen, clouded eyes as he creates a little mess on your face. When he’s finished, he lets you grab his cock again. You wrap your lips around his dick and start bobbing your head up and down.

“That’s right,” he says, brushing your hair behind your ear. His eyes close as you take him deeper into your mouth and his head falls back. With his palm on the back of your head, he presses your head down. A curse flees his lips as almost his entire length vanishes into your mouth.

Jungkook forces his eyes open and moans at the sight of your mouth full of his cock. He loves watching you suck his cock and you love hearing him moan for you.

You’re a little breathless when you release his cock with a lewd pop sound, and your eyes a bit teary too. You stroke his dick and dip down to suck on his balls.

“So good. Fuck – you know what to do,” he mumbles like he’s drunk and you giggle at his comment.

“You like that?”

“So fucking much.” His hand caresses your head, so soft at handling you, but the way desire pinches his brows together shows how much he is struggling to restrain himself from just shoving his entire length down your throat. “Come here.” His tatted hand glides down your shoulder, pulling you up onto his lap.

He squeezes your ass and delivers it a little smack. “You’re so hot.” He peeks over your shoulder, watching the supple flesh fill his hands completely.

“How can you claim to be an everything guy when you’re clearly an ass guy.”

Jungkook takes offense at that. “I am an everything guy!” His hands quickly move to your breasts and he kneads them through your sports bra. “I love your tits just as much.” The tight material presses them snugly together. “I love every part of you.”

You feel a gentle warmth in your cheeks, but you laugh it off. “That is so playboy behaviour of you, Jungkook.”

A frown spreads on his face, lips puckering the slightest bit. “I’m no playboy,” he grumbles as he plays with your tits. Planting little kisses along your neck as if to add sincerity to his words.

You push his arms away and try to stand up, but Jungkook quickly pulls you back onto his lap, firmly gripping your waist.

“Where are you going?” he asks, his tone almost scolding. You grasp his wrist, but he doesn’t let go, his hands remaining firmly in place.

“Condoms,” you remind him. He lets out a quiet, muffled “oh”, and his grip loosens with a reluctant sigh. “’Cause, you know. We hook up with other people.”

Jungkook scoffs at your remark.

“What?” Tilting your head slightly. “I saw you with Nayeon at the party.” You try to sound as least huffy as you can.

“And you fucked Eunwoo,” he counters.

You actually didn’t – you just made out with him. You deliberately chose a spot so Jungkook could see you from the couch, with Nayeon clinging to his side, just because you wanted him to see you.

“So?”

Jungkook levels you with a piercing gaze but remains quiet. He gives your butt a pat and nods towards the balcony door. “Go get the condom.”

When you fetch a condom from your room and return to Jungkook, you see saliva dripping from his lips and he lubes himself up as his pretty fingers wrap around him and stroke his cock. He looks unfairly hot doing the filthiest things.

“Bend over my lap,” he instructs when you hand him the condom, but he ignores it and drops it next to him.

He helps you settle onto his lap, your tummy pressed against one of his thighs and your ass in the air. Jungkook rolls the tight fabric of your shorts over your ass. He flicks your panties aside and groans at the pretty sight in front of him. Wet pussy peeks out from between your soft thighs.

His finger swipes across your pussy. “So wet for me. Can’t wait to have my dick in your pussy, huh?” He rubs your arousal over your pussy, spreading your folds to spit and make an even bigger mess. He’s having so much fun teasing and rubbing you, playing a little with your clit and dipping the tip of his finger inside you.

“Jungkook,” you whine, looking over your shoulder. “We don’t have that much time.”

“Sorry.” He circles your hole with two fingers and plunges them deep inside you. “Better, princess?” he asks after you choke on a moan, mocking you with fake sympathy.

“Yeah, better.” The words roll off your tongue in a soft whisper. Jungkook curls his fingers and your eyes roll involuntarily. “So good.” His other hand rolls the plump flesh of your ass around his palm, sometimes squeezing and leaving his fingerprints on your skin.

He’s fast in figuring out a rhythmic way to move his fingers that instantly unfurls pleasure all over your body. Jungkook knows your body all too well; he has perfected the art of knowing what you like the most.

It makes you think back to high school when you had the biggest, silliest crush on him and wanted nothing more than his attention. Who could blame you? Your older brother’s hot best friend was the captain of the school’s hockey team and practically lived at your house.

Of course, developing a crush on him was inevitable. But you never showed him that you found him cute – you treated him like your older brother’s annoying best friend who was always around. Bickering was just the nature of your friendship. Sometimes, you’d get annoyed when your dad paid more attention to Jungkook. It wasn’t because he preferred Jungkook over you, but because your dad, a high-profile NHL General Manager, supported the boys on their journey.

Every girl in school was swooning over him – they still are. And you’re not the only girl he’s paying attention to. You have to force yourself to admit that he’s hooking up with other girls too, because denying it would make this seem so serious, and the thought of things becoming serious scares you.

You’re content with how things are between you two – you’re not foolish enough to turn this simple, silly arrangement into something serious when you know it wouldn’t last. Taehyung being the main reason for that. But you don’t want Jungkook in a romantic way anyway, and he doesn’t too.

Jungkook smacks your butt, soothing the sharp hit by running his hand over your burning skin right after. “Want your little pussy to be a mess for me.”

It is, you want to say. You are. But you’re lost in the tingling pleasure that clouds your mind, leaving you with nothing but desperate need for him. Any rational thoughts vanish, replaced by an angelic, repetitive chant of his name. Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook.

And with only Jungkook your mind, you cum around his fingers, walls clenching as the rush of your high envelops you completely.

“Good girl.” His fingers lather your slick all over your pussy, marvelling at how much it glistens under the sun, watching how it sticks to the pad of his fingers in little strings. “So pretty.” He discards your shorts and panties before pulling you up and making you straddle him.

Your arms drape over his shoulders as he takes in your weary expression, a small smirk rising on his face.

“So annoying,” you mutter and his smile grows wider. You smooch his dimple and rest your forehead against his neck when Jungkook rolls the condom over his cock and you feel him lift your hips up a little to align his tip with your entrance.

He stretches you out in a familiar, delicious way. Burying himself so deep inside you as you sink down on him. Your nose brushes his jaw and a shaky moan bubbles up when you move your hips and feel the full size of his cock.

Jungkook hands stay on your hips, guiding your movements before they sneak behind you and anchor themselves in your butt and you sniff a laugh, leaning back to peer at his face.

“Why?” he questions, curiosity piqued. Even though he doesn’t know why you’re amused, a soft smile spreads on his face.

“Nothing.” Your fingers gently weave through his smooth hair, playing with the strands at the back of his head. “Just you.”

The corners of his mouth curl upward and a satisfied, cocky glint settles in his eyes.

“Take this off,” you say, tugging at the tight-fitting shirt covering his upper half. Jungkook pulls it over his head, revealing a shiny silver necklace decorating his neck. “Is this new?” You trace the delicate chain with your nail.

“Yeah,” he grins proudly. Setting your laptop aside on the coffee table, he manhandles you onto your back, pushing his cock even further into you as he sits on his knees and leans over you. “You like it?”

The necklace dangles just above your face, its silver chain shimmering and momentarily catching your attention. You pull him closer by tugging on it.

“It’s pretty. Suits you.”

The compliment conjures a boyish smile on his lips, making his face soften with a warm, endearing glow – such a sweet contrast to the way he pounds into you with practised movements, his skin covered in sweat yet again, but not for the innocent reason of keeping fit for hockey, but for the wicked reason that Jungkook can’t control his desire to fuck his best friend’s younger sister and keeps coming back to you despite having so many other options.

Jungkook drags your bra down and squeezes your breast, loving the heavy feel of your supple flesh filling his closed fist.

You throw your legs around his waist to pull him even closer to you, if that’s even possible, and Jungkook deepens his thrusts, leaving you gasping for air and holding onto his shoulders, needing something to sink your nails into.

He dips his head down and catches your pebbled and sensitive nub in his mouth, sucking and licking and making your moans whinier. Jungkook leaves tiny flecks of spit on your skin as he peppers your chest and neck with smooches.

Jungkook’s touches send waves of euphoria through you, leaving your thoughts scattered and your senses heightened by how good he makes you feel, chasing your high as you concentrate on the way he reaches your sweet spot every time his body meets yours, so you only realise Jungkook is nibbling and sucking on your neck when you feel his teeth poke you.

“Jungkook,” you scold him, yanking him by the hair.

“What?” He peers at you through his big, round doe eyes.

“Why would you do that?” Your finger grazes the spot where he was just working hard to create a little hickey. “You know I don’t like that.”

“But you look pretty with it.” His brows raise to make his point clear. “Trust me.” He smiles at you in an annoyingly charming way, giving the freshly created hickey a gentle kiss. “A little love bite.” Love bite. You don’t want to dwell on how those words make you feel.

The only thing you want to think about is how close you are to cumming.

“Don’t do that again.” You avoid his gaze and cast it downwards, where he disappears into you. “Just– just make me cum.”

He pushes your leg up, his palm firmly against the back of your thigh. His sparkly necklace catches your attention, swinging in front your face, and it's the way he looks – his face flushed with desire, eyes smouldering, and every muscle taut with intensity – that makes it impossible to look away, leaving you completely captivated as you listen to his pretty moans that sound even better than the song playing in the background.

Your fingers trail down his chest, brushing over his hard abs as a faint attempt to moan his name rolls of your tongue and you bask in the bliss that floods through you.

“Fuck, ___,” he rasps when he feels you squeezing his cock. “Gonna cum too.”

His thrusts become sloppy as Jungkook loses himself in the feeling of release. His moans are breathy and low and you hear him stutter when he finally comes undone too. The muscles on his tummy clench and you feel his grip on your thigh tighten as Jungkook moves his hips slowly now. With rosy cheeks and a look of deep satisfaction brightening his face, he leans in, and presses a fervent kiss to your lips.

You’d love to stay like this with him a bit longer, teasing and annoying each other until you’re ready for another round. But the reminder that Taehyung’s class will end soon brings you back to reality. You only ever have these secret moments for a limited time before reality comes crashing back down.

“Think we should head inside?” you ask.

“Uh-huh.” He’s busy dotting your neck with gentle kisses.

“You’d have to get off me, y’know?”

He chuckles, and you feel a ticklish flutter in your tummy.

“Just wait a minute.”

~

You step back inside once you’re both clothed again and you managed to pry Jungkook off you after he stubbornly clung to you for what felt like ages. Definitely longer than just a minute.

“We could make this exclusive, if you’d want that,” Jungkook proposes, stepping closer and you feel his heavy gaze lingering on you.

“Huh?” You’re busy with closing the balcony door, cursing the insects that always manage to invade your apartment. Taehyung’s been promising to put up the insect screen for months.

Jungkook helps you close the door with a strong push. “If the condoms annoy you, we could stop hooking up with other people.”

“Oh,” you utter, surprised.

If you’re honest with yourself, you have to admit that Jungkook has ruined you for other guys. No other boy quiet hits the same after experiencing how Jungkook treats you in bed. There is a reason why girls blush and giggle and crave his attention whenever he walks by. He’s just that good.

But being exclusive means spending even more time together, which increases the chance of Taehyung finding out.

You cringe at the thought of that.

“We’d practically be begging Taehyung to catch us like fools,” you tell him.

Just then, you hear someone type in the code and the front door opens.

Quickly, like a practised move, you put distance between you and Jungkook.

“You hungry, ___?” Taehyung calls out, emerging from the hallway. His gaze is focused on his phone as he types, until he notices you and Jungkook and stops in his tracks. “I was just about to call you for breakfast.” He lifts the bag from your favourite bakery. “What are you doing here?”

“I knew you’d invite me for breakfast.” Jungkook beams, reaching for the bag.

Taehyung’s gaze shifts to you, but you quickly brush past him. “I’m gonna take a shower. Don’t wait for me!”

“Did you come from a workout?” You hear Taehyung ask Jungkook.

Jungkook says yes, but he doesn’t tell your brother what kind of workout.

And moments like these are exactly why you want to keep things as they are with Jungkook.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

read more of this couple here <3

[dark-l-angel]

Hey girly! I was thinking, how would the bat boys react to their partner doing the “My boyfriend just told me he doesn’t love me anymore” all because they told them that they couldn’t shop on Amazon anymore? 😂😂😂

Honestly, if you pulled this prank, they’d all spoil you beyond reason just to make sure you never feel unloved again

How they would react to their partner doing that "My boyfriend just told me he doesn’t love me anymore" prank :

Dick Grayson :

Golden retriever boyfriend energy? On maximum panic mode.

He literally short-circuits. You say, "He told me he doesn't love me anymore…" and Dick’s gorgeous blue eyes go wide like saucers.

“WHAT?? WHO??”

"You."

Dick: “ME?! Babe, no — no, never, absolutely not. What did I say? Was it the Amazon thing? Fine! Fine, you can buy everything you want! New yoga mat? Sure. That pink rhinestone water bottle you showed me? I'll get two. A pool float shaped like a flamingo? I'll get a whole flock!”

He’s already speed-dialing Alfred like,

“Hey, I need you to open the family credit card, it’s an emergency.”

probably ends up shopping with you just to make it up.

Jason Todd :

Jason, oh Jason. This man lives in emotional trauma territory already.

So when you drop that line?

Oh baby, you see the panic behind those stormy eyes.

He tries to play it cool, leans against the door frame, arms crossed, but his voice drops lower, serious.

“…What do you mean, I don’t love you anymore?”

You: "You said I can’t shop on Amazon."

Jason: *Pause. *Blink. *Another blink.

Then suddenly: “That’s not a reason to pull the nuclear code, Angel face!”

He probably huffs dramatically, pulls you into his arms, kisses the top of your head, and mutters:

“Fine. You want Amazon? Buy it all. I’ll help you blow up Bezos' bank account personally.”

Secretly though? He is already scrolling through your wishlist to surprise you later.

Tim Drake :

Tim.exe has stopped responding.

You hit him with the line, and this poor, sleep-deprived genius malfunctions.

“…Wait. Wait. Hold on.”

He frantically replays the conversation in his mind like a crime scene.

“I just-I only said no to Amazon because you ordered seventeen planners last month! No, wait, I didn’t mean it like that, please don’t cry!”

Ends up apologizing so profusely you start feeling guilty.

Tim: *shoving his credit card in your hand like it’s a peace treaty

“Just take it. Take it, and my soul, apparently.”

He later codes a bot that auto-buys everything in your wishlist. Because he’s that whipped.

Damian Wayne :

Ohhh boy.

Damian is furious at first.. not at you, never at you. but at the situation, because how dare anything make you sad.

“What nonsense are you speaking, Beloved? Who has dared say such a thing?”

You: "You did. You said I couldn’t shop on Amazon anymore."

Pause.

He stiffens, narrows his eyes, and clenches his jaw like a prince ready for war.

“…Clearly, I have made a grave tactical error.”

Immediately, he opens his black card wallet, holds it out to you like a king offering tribute.

“Here. Empty the vaults. Bleed the empire dry if you must.”

And then pulls you into the most passionate, possessive embrace as if you might disappear.

He tells Alfred to build you a private Amazon warehouse at the manor. Just for you, cuz you're his babygirl <3

[alohajix]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐚𝐩𝐞

Description: she said she wasn’t nervous. She said she'd never done this before. But then he walked in—and made her forget every lie she told herself. The Casting Tape — you only need to watch it once to come back for more.

Warnings: this one-shot includes explicit sexual content, including fingering, oral sex (M/F), face-fucking, rough grinding, dirty talk, praise kink, light choking, spanking, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), and graphic language. Readers +18.

Words count: ~ 7K.

I understand you guys really enjoyed “First Time for Everything”. So here’s a new one-shot I've been working on for a while, featuring pornstar!harry once again.

please enjoyyy💕

*****

I almost didn’t walk through the door. It looked too normal from the outside—just a nondescript black building sandwiched between a vape shop and a custom auto wrap place. No sign. No logo. Just a metal door and a tiny keypad. I stood there for a full minute, staring at my reflection in the door’s narrow glass panel, wondering what the hell I was doing. My fingers fidgeted with the zipper on my hoodie as I debated bailing. But then I remembered rent. And how many hours I’d spent reading that post.

“Paid casting opportunity. Professional, safe, filmed. No pressure to continue. Just be yourself.”

So I buzzed in. A soft click, and I stepped inside. The air was cool, sterile, quiet. A short hallway led to a room that looked more like a YouTube set than anything porn-related—white walls, gray backdrop, soft box lights aimed at a plain black leather couch. A camera was already set up on a tripod, its little red light blinking lazily like it was waiting. There was no one else in the room, just a low table with a water bottle and a clipboard. I approached it like it might bite.

“Hey there,” a voice called from behind me—low, male, casual. “You can grab a seat. We’ll start in a second.”

I turned to find a guy with a headset leaning against the doorframe, sipping coffee. He looked more like someone who worked in tech support than adult film, and he barely glanced at me. That helped a little. I gave him a tight smile and sat down on the couch, tucking one leg under the other. The camera stared back at me. I wiped my sweaty palms on my denim skirt.

“You go by your real name or a stage name?” the voice asked.

I hesitated. “Stage name.”

He chuckled. “Smart. What should we call you?”

“…Lola.” I don’t know where it came from. I didn’t even know anyone named Lola.

“Cute,” he said. “Alright, Lola. We’re just gonna ask you a few questions. Keep your eyes on the camera, speak clearly, be yourself.”

I nodded once. The camera light turned solid red.

“Tell us how old you are and why you’re here.”

My voice came out a little too fast. “Twenty-two. I—uh—I heard about this through a friend of a friend. Thought it might be… interesting.”

“And have you done anything like this before?”

I forced a smile. “Not professionally.”

He chuckled again, friendly but disinterested. “Good answer. So—this is a soft casting. No pressure to do anything you’re not comfortable with. We just want to see how you come across on camera. If it feels natural, maybe we’ll try a short chemistry test.”

My stomach flipped. “Chemistry test?”

“With a partner,” he clarified. “Clothed or not. Touching or not. Totally up to you.”

I swallowed hard. “And who’s the partner?”

“Hey, man,” the guy said suddenly, glancing over my shoulder. “You mind stepping in for a quick test?”

I didn’t hear footsteps. I felt them. Slow. Heavy. Purposeful. And then I heard his voice.

“Yeah. I’ve got time.” I turned. And immediately forgot how to breathe.

He walked in wearing a black T-shirt and sweatpants, his hair tucked under a gray beanie, tattooed arms on full display. Calm. Comfortable. Like he belonged here. And when his eyes met mine—green, curious, knowing—I had to look away before I gave something away.

I knew who he was. Everyone who’s ever dipped into amateur porn knew who he was. He wasn’t just a pornstar—he was the pornstar. The one known for making people cry in the best way possible. The one who ruined girls for normal guys. The one I may or may not have watched the night I sent my application in.

“Hi,” he said softly, voice like silk. “I’m Harry.” Of course he was.

I tried to remember how to smile. “Hi.”

He looked me over—slowly, respectfully, but definitely. His gaze dragged from my hoodie to my bare thighs, then up to my lips before meeting my eyes again.

“You okay to keep going?” he asked. “Or just here to talk?” His tone was soft. Patient.

I bit my lip. I should’ve said no. I should’ve kept it simple. But the way he was looking at me… “Let’s try,” I said quietly.

His mouth curled into a half-smile. “We’ll go slow.”

He sat beside me on the couch, leaving just enough space between us that it felt intentional. His thigh brushed mine every time I shifted, and I wasn’t sure if it was on purpose—but I hoped it was.

The camera was still rolling. “You nervous?” he asked, his voice low and almost amused.

“A little,” I admitted. “You’re not exactly a nobody.”

He smiled at that—soft, slow, like he was letting the compliment soak into his skin.

“Well, I’ve done a few of these,” he said, tilting his body slightly toward me. “So if you want to stop at any point, you say the word. We good on that?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Safe word or something?”

“We can use red. If you want to pause, say yellow. But honestly? Just talk to me. I listen.”

God, that shouldn’t have made my stomach twist—but it did. His hand landed gently on my knee. Just a touch. Nothing dirty. But the weight of it made my heart skip.

“Can I touch you a little more?” he asked.

I swallowed and nodded. “Yes.”

He slid his hand up my thigh, slow and deliberate, until his fingers curled around the bare skin just beneath the hem of my skirt. His pinky brushed the side of my underwear. He didn’t move further. He just… held me.

“See? You’re already shaking a little,” he said, voice soft like a secret.

“I’m not,” I lied.

His thumb moved lazily across my thigh. “You are. That’s okay, though. Nervous is normal. But you look good nervous.”

I smirked despite myself. “Is that your line?”

“No,” he said, leaning in just a little. “That’s the truth.”

His other hand reached up, fingers playing with the zipper of my hoodie. He didn’t pull it down right away—he just watched my face.

“Can I?”

I nodded again. “Yeah.”

He tugged the zipper down, slow as hell. I didn’t wear a bra on purpose—I’d told myself it was about being comfortable, but I’d also known what kind of job this was. I’d wanted to feel like I was ready for it, even if I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. He pushed the hoodie off my shoulders, revealing my thin tank top underneath—white, ribbed, tight. My nipples were already hard beneath the fabric.

His eyes dropped for half a second. “Fuck.”

“What?” I teased.

“You’re hot.” His voice dipped lower, rougher. “Didn’t expect that.”

I grinned. “You didn’t look me up before this?”

He leaned closer, lips near my ear. “Didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

Fuck. That got to me. I shifted in my seat, squeezing my thighs together, and his hand didn’t miss it.

“You get turned on easily, don’t you?” he murmured.

“Only when someone says shit like that.”

He chuckled, and it vibrated straight through me. “Alright then. Let’s see how much you can take before we even get your clothes off.”

He turned to face me fully, his hand now resting between my thighs, thumb pressing lightly at the crease where leg met hip. I was still covered, but it felt dangerously intimate.

“Look at me,” he said. I did.

His hand moved to my waist, sliding under the hem of my shirt. His palm was warm on my bare skin, fingertips grazing my ribcage, tracing just under the curve of my breast. His thumb brushed upward, catching the edge of my nipple through the fabric—and I gasped, barely holding still.

“Sensitive?” he asked, eyes still locked on mine. I nodded, biting my lip.

He pinched lightly—just enough to make me jerk—and then soothed the spot with his palm.

“You’re already breathing like you’ve been at this for an hour.”

“Maybe I just like the way you touch,” I whispered.

He grinned again. “Yeah?”

His other hand cupped the back of my neck, fingers sliding into my hair as he leaned in. “I’m gonna kiss you now. Okay?”

I nodded. “Please.” And then he kissed me. Slow. Firm. One hand holding my jaw just right while the other teased under my shirt. His lips moved against mine like he had all the time in the world. He tasted like mint and something just a little bit sweet—god, it was unfair how good he was at this.

My mouth opened for him on instinct, tongue brushing his as he deepened the kiss. I whimpered before I meant to, and he smiled against my lips.

“There it is,” he murmured. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

He pulled me onto his lap. I didn’t even realize I’d moved until I felt his thighs beneath mine, the stretch of my skirt riding up, the thick press of him already hard beneath me.

“You wanna keep going?” he asked, hand splayed on my lower back.

“Yes.”

“You wanna keep your clothes on for now?”

I nodded again. “Let me stay like this.”

He gave a slow, approving nod. “Smart girl.”

I started to grind—tentatively, testing—and he held me tighter.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “That’s it. Just like that.”

His hands stayed on my waist, guiding me. My panties were soaked through already, and he hadn’t even touched me properly. His cock pressed up against my center through both layers, and the friction was delicious.

“Feel what you’re doing to me?” he whispered. I nodded. “Good. Don’t stop.” I didn’t.

I rocked against him slowly, rhythmically, trying to match the pace of his hands, trying not to let my moans get too loud. But the fabric was slick, and I was clenching around nothing, desperate for more. He leaned up to kiss me again, slower this time, while grinding back into me with little thrusts of his hips.

“You look so fucking pretty like this,” he whispered. “Using me to get yourself off. All clothed. So dirty, baby.”

God, baby—the way it rolled off his tongue nearly made me come.

“I wanna see you fall apart,” he said against my lips. “But not yet. Gotta take my time with you.”

I whimpered, hands clutching his shoulders. “Why?”

“‘Cause I want it to be unforgettable.”

I didn’t mean to drop to my knees. It just happened. One second, I was straddling him, moaning into his mouth, and the next, I was slipping down between his legs, hands trailing over his thighs like they belonged there. He didn’t stop me. Didn’t say a word—just leaned back on the couch and watched me with that slow-burning smirk, his chest rising and falling like he already knew what I was going to do next.

“You sure about this?” he asked, voice husky.

I nodded as I settled between his thighs, reaching for the waistband of his sweats. “You’ve been hard since I got here.”

His brow ticked up. “And you think that means you get to do something about it?”

I looked up at him, tilted my head innocently. “I know I do.”

He grinned. “Cocky.”

“I learned from the best,” I said, tugging his sweats down just enough to free him. And fuck.

I’d seen it before—on screens, in videos—but nothing prepared me for the way it looked up close. Thick, long, already leaking at the tip. Veins along the shaft. His entire body was unfair, but this? This was just cruel.

I wrapped my hand around him slowly.

“You gonna stare at it all day, or you gonna do something?” he teased.

I licked a long stripe from the base to the tip, just to shut him up. His breath caught.

“Mouth open,” he murmured. I obeyed, letting my tongue hang out as I stroked him slowly. He was heavy in my hand, warm and twitching, and when I finally took him into my mouth, I moaned like it was for me, not him.

“Fucking hell,” he groaned, his head tipping back. “You’re better than half the girls I’ve filmed with.”

I pulled back just enough to say, “That supposed to make me feel special?”

He looked down at me with a grin. “It should.” Then he shifted his hips forward a little, his hand slipping into my hair. “Hold still,” he said. “Let me fuck your mouth a little.”

I whimpered, nodding as he gathered my hair in his fist and guided me back down. His thrusts were slow at first, controlled, testing. He pushed past my lips and onto my tongue, letting me feel every inch. I hollowed my cheeks around him, drool already sliding down my chin. The angle made my throat ache—but I didn’t care. He watched every second.

“That’s it,” he praised. “Look at me. Eyes up. Fuck—just like that.” I moaned around him, and he groaned in return, gripping my hair tighter. “You like this?” he asked. “Being used a little?”

I blinked up at him, spit trailing from my lip to the base of his cock. “Yes.”

“How filthy are you, baby?”

I swallowed him deeper before answering. “Wanna choke on it.”

He smirked, that filthy edge sharpening in his eyes. “Greedy girl.”

He held my jaw and started to fuck into my mouth harder, sloppier. My mascara was running—I could feel it—and my knees were going numb, but I didn’t care. Not when he was groaning and panting above me, thumb wiping spit from the corner of my mouth.

“Open wider,” he growled. “Let me all the way in.”

I did. He pushed in until the tip hit the back of my throat, and I gagged—but he didn’t stop. He stayed there for a second, watching the tears spill down my cheeks before pulling back with a wet, obscene pop.

“Good girl,” he breathed. “Fuck, you’re perfect.” I blinked up at him, dazed and wrecked, lips puffy and slick. “You want me to come in your mouth?” he asked.

“No.” He raised a brow. “I want more than that.” He stared at me for a beat. Then he reached down, grabbed my arm, and pulled me gently to my feet.

“Take your clothes off.”

I hesitated, chest heaving. “All of them?”

“All of them,” he said softly. “Want to see what kind of mess I’ve made.”

I peeled off my hoodie first, even though it had already been unzipped. My tank top followed, sticky with sweat. Then my skirt. Then my panties—soaked, clinging to my thighs. His eyes drank me in.

“You’re soaked.”

“You made me like this.”

He stood up—slow, deliberate—and pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth, then my neck, then lower, until he was kneeling in front of me.

“You ever squirt before?” he asked, voice low.

I swallowed hard. “No.”

He smirked. “Might today.” Then he leaned in and dragged his tongue across my inner thigh.

He didn’t go for my pussy right away. Instead, he kissed every inch around it—my thighs, the crease of my hip, the patch of skin just above my mound. His hands wrapped around my legs, holding me steady as he took his time. The anticipation had my stomach fluttering, my cunt clenching around nothing, desperate to be touched.

“Please,” I whispered, shifting.

He looked up at me from between my legs, his lips shiny with spit. “Yeah?”

I nodded, breath shaky. “I—I need—”

He slid one finger up my slit, slow as hell. “You need this?” he asked, teasing my clit with the lightest touch. “Or my mouth?”

“Both.”

He grinned. “Good answer.” Then he dove in.

His mouth latched around my clit like he’d missed it, like he owned it. His tongue flicked and sucked, alternating between slow pressure and fast strokes that made my legs tremble. I cried out, one hand gripping the back of the couch, the other tangled in his hair. He moaned against me when I tugged, and I felt it vibrate through my whole body.

“F-fuck,” I gasped. “Harry—”

“You taste so sweet,” he muttered between licks. “Could stay here all day.”

He pushed two fingers into me while his tongue kept working, curling them just right. My back arched off the couch, a moan ripping from my throat so loud I was sure the mic picked it up.

“That’s it,” he said. “Let them hear how good I’m making you feel.”

I was already on the edge, too fast, too intense—and he knew it.

“You close?” he asked, sliding his fingers faster, deeper, hitting every nerve ending I had.

I nodded, gasping. “Yes—yes—fuck, don’t stop—” He stopped. Pulled back. Fingers still inside me, but barely moving. I whimpered. “Why—”

“Cause I want you to come on my cock, not my tongue.”

“Fucking mean,” I whispered.

He smirked. “You like it.” I hated how right he was.

He stood and kicked off his sweats fully this time, leaving him completely naked—tall, lean, toned. Tattoos stretched across his chest, down his arms. His cock was heavy and thick, standing up proudly, still slick from my mouth. He grabbed a condom from the table behind him—but I stopped him with a hand on his wrist.

“Don’t,” I said softly. His eyes locked on mine.

“Are you sure?”

I nodded. “I’m clean. On the pill. I want to feel all of you.”

His jaw clenched. “Fuck, you’re gonna ruin me.”

He climbed back onto the couch, pulling me into his lap again. This time, we were both naked. Skin against skin. He lined himself up with one hand, the other gripping my waist.

“Take it slow,” he murmured. I did. I sank down on him inch by inch, gasping at the stretch, the burn, the way he filled me up so deep I thought I might break.

He kept eye contact the whole time. “Look at you,” he said. “Taking it so well.”

I whimpered when I bottomed out, thighs shaking.

“So fucking tight,” he growled. “You weren’t made for this, were you?”

I moaned. “Maybe I was made for you.” That broke something in him.

His hands gripped my hips, and he started to move—slow thrusts upward that hit just right. I rocked against him, chasing friction, rolling my hips as he fucked up into me.

“Say my name,” he ordered.

“Harry.”

“Louder.”

“Harry.”

“Tell me how it feels.”

“So fucking good,” I gasped. “You’re so deep—fuck—it’s so good.” His hand came up to my throat, not squeezing, just holding.

“You’re gonna come like this?” he asked. “Like a needy little slut in my lap?”

I nodded frantically. “Yes—please, I need it—I need to come—”

“Then come.”

I shattered. The orgasm hit like a wave, crashing through me in pulses that left me crying out his name, clinging to him, hips still rocking even as I trembled. He held me through it, whispered praise into my ear.

“Good girl,” he breathed. “So fucking good for me.” But he wasn’t done. He flipped me over onto the couch, face-down, ass up. “Not finished with you yet,” he growled.

He slid back into me easily, grabbing my hips and fucking into me hard now—rough, deep, animalistic. My cheek pressed against the cushion, mouth open as he pounded into me.

“You want it rough?” he panted. “You want to feel how hard you made me?”

“Y-yes—fuck—yes—”

He slapped my ass, hard. “Say you love it.”

“I fucking love it.”

“Say who’s fucking you.”

“Harry—Harry’s fucking me—please don’t stop—”

He leaned over me, one hand tangled in my hair, the other holding my throat as he fucked me from behind. Skin slapping, breath ragged, everything filthy and perfect.

“Gonna come on you,” he groaned. “Wanna see you dripping.”

“Yes,” I begged. “Do it—please—come on me—”

He pulled out just in time, stroking himself fast before spilling hot all over my lower back and ass, groaning through gritted teeth. I lay there, trembling, dripping, wrecked. Breathing like I’d run a marathon.

He exhaled a long breath, letting it hang in the quiet between us. The only sound now was the soft hum of the camera still rolling. The red light blinked steadily, like it had witnessed every filthy, raw second of what just happened. Harry sat back, eyes scanning over me like he wasn’t sure if he was done yet—or just trying to memorize how I looked. Wrecked. Flushed. My hair a mess. My thighs still trembling.

“Stay there a sec,” he said, voice a little rougher than before.

I blinked up at him, cheek still pressed to the couch cushion, and nodded. He disappeared for a moment and came back with a warm towel. He didn’t rush—just knelt beside me, gently wiping me clean, taking his time like he actually cared. And maybe he didn’t. Maybe he was just good at playing the part. But something about the way his fingers grazed my skin, soft and unhurried, made my chest ache.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, gaze flicking up to mine.

I nodded. “Yeah. Just… that was a lot.”

A slow grin pulled at his mouth. “Good lot or bad lot?”

“Really good.”

He handed me the towel and stood up to grab water bottles. When he tossed one to me, I caught it with shaky hands.

“You looked like you’ve done that before,” he said, sitting down beside me again—close, but not touching.

“I haven’t,” I replied, twisting the cap off. “Not like that.”

He raised a brow. “You sure?”

I smiled. “Trust me. I’d remember if someone ever made me feel like that before.” He went quiet, watching me sip.

“You ever actually plan on watching the footage?” I looked at him. At the blinking red light still recording.

“I kind of want to,” I admitted.

He nodded slowly. “I’ll show you mine… if you come back and film another one.” I stared at him, half smiling, half stunned.

“You saying that to everyone who comes through here?”

“Nope.” He leaned in just slightly, voice lower. “Just the ones who moan my name like they mean it.”

I laughed, flushed, and shook my head. “You’re dangerous.”

He smirked. “Only on camera.” I didn’t believe that for a second. But I wanted to find out.

[23victoria]

vibes

pairings: max verstappen x fem!reader

word count: 1.5k

warnings: cussing, unwanted touching, bestfriends to lovers

authors note: i listened to vibes by chase atlantic when i wrote this last night really quickly cause i’m so behind on requests. so i’m so sorry if it’s shit! not prof read so sorry for any mistakes, also wrote this on my laptop and not my phone so i think grammarly made auto corrections, sorry about that, any feedback is appreciated and please like, comment, and reblog!! hope you enjoy!!

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f1 masterlist 1k celebration

The night's buzz is almost overwhelming as you step into the club, the electric energy in the air matching the high spirits of everyone around you. Max had just secured yet another victory and the entire crew decided a night out was the perfect way to celebrate. You’ve known Max for years since you started working as a commentator and interviewer for F1. The two of you clicked instantly, forming a close friendship that grew stronger with time.

But despite the late nights spent together, the countless inside jokes, and the deep conversations shared after long race weekends, there’s always been something unspoken between you. You’ve watched Max go through a relationship, and break up, and now, for some time, he’s been single. It’s been even harder lately to ignore the feelings you’ve harbored for him, but fear of ruining your friendship keeps you silent.

The music pulses through the room, and laughter fills the air as you weave through the crowd with Max by your side. He’s in high spirits tonight, smiling and laughing with everyone, and you can’t help but feel a warmth spread through you seeing him like this. His happiness is contagious, and for a moment, you let go of your reservations and join in the fun.

The music pounds through the speakers, the bass reverberating in your chest as you dance with your friends, lost in the carefree atmosphere of the night. You’re trying to immerse yourself in the moment, to let loose and enjoy the celebration, but something keeps pulling you out of it. You can feel eyes on you, and it’s making your skin crawl. Every time you glance around, you see him—the guy who’s been hovering near you for most of the night, his gaze too intense, too invasive.

You try to shake it off, telling yourself to focus on having fun. After all, you’re here to celebrate Max’s victory, and you don’t want anything to spoil the night. But then, out of nowhere, you feel it—his hand on your waist. It’s like a bucket of cold water has been poured over you, the chill of his touch instantly snapping you out of the moment. You tense up, your body going rigid as alarm bells start ringing in your mind.

You immediately step away, trying to put some distance between you and him, but he’s persistent. He follows, his hand still on you, tightening his grip as he leans in closer. The smell of alcohol on his breath hits you, making you recoil.

“Please, stop touching me,” you say, your voice firm but polite, hoping he’ll get the message and back off. For a moment, it seems like he does—his hand drops from your waist, and he takes a step back, raising his hands in mock surrender. You force a smile, relieved that it’s over, and try to get back into the groove of the music, but the unease lingers.

Five minutes pass, and you start to relax again, laughing with your friends as you dance, the earlier tension beginning to fade. But just as you’re starting to enjoy yourself again, you feel it—his hand, creeping back onto your waist. This time, it’s more insistent, more possessive, as he tries to slide it lower, fingers brushing dangerously close to the edge of your dress.

Your blood runs cold. Panic surges through you as you try to pull away, but his grip tightens, holding you in place. Your heart pounds in your chest, a mix of fear and anger bubbling up inside you.

Before you can react, a familiar presence looms over you, and suddenly, the guy is yanked away from you with a force that sends him stumbling back. Max is there, his usually calm and collected demeanor replaced with a fierce, protective anger. He grabs the guy by the collar of his shirt, pulling him close until their faces are just inches apart.

“What the fuck are you doing? Huh?! Who the fuck do you think you are?!” Max’s voice is sharp, a dangerous edge to it that you rarely hear. His blue eyes blaze with fury as he stares the guy down, every inch of him radiating anger. “Didn’t she tell you to stop? So why the fuck are you touching my girl?! 

The words hang in the air, and you feel your breath catch in your throat. His girl. Max just called you his girl. The realization hits you like a freight train, but there’s no time to dwell on it as the bouncer arrives, having noticed the commotion. 

The guy stammers out a half-hearted apology, but Max isn’t having any of it. He pushes him away, standing protectively in front of you. The other drivers, who had been enjoying themselves a moment ago, are now watching intently, ready to back Max up if needed. But the bouncer is already there, having noticed the commotion.

“Get this piece of shit out of here,” Max orders, his voice leaving no room for argument. The bouncer doesn’t hesitate, grabbing the guy and dragging him towards the exit. You can’t help but feel a mix of relief and embarrassment as everyone’s eyes turn back to you. The adrenaline from the confrontation has left you shaken, and all you want to do is get out of there.

“I think…I think I’m going to head home,” you say, your voice a little shaky. The rest of the group immediately offers to leave as well, but you shake your head. “No, you guys stay. Have fun. I just need to get some rest.”

“I’ll drive you home,” Max says, his tone leaving no room for argument. You open your mouth to protest, not wanting to ruin his night, but he cuts you off. “Y/N, I’m taking you home. End of discussion.”

You know better than to argue when he’s in this mood, so you simply nod, letting him lead you out of the club. The car ride is silent, the tension thick between you. You keep replaying the events of the night in your head, trying to make sense of Max’s reaction. The way he called you “his girl” to the guy has your mind spinning, but you don’t dare bring it up, unsure of what it means—or maybe too scared to hope.

When you finally reach your apartment, you hesitate before getting out of the car. “Do you…do you want to come up?” you ask, your voice almost timid. Max looks at you for a moment before nodding.

“Sure.”

Once inside, you head to your room to change into something more comfortable, grateful for a moment to gather your thoughts. Meanwhile, Max busies himself in the kitchen. When you return, you find him making a sandwich, a small, amused smile on his face when he notices you watching.

“I figured you might be hungry,” he says, sliding the plate towards you as you sit at the counter. The two of you eat in silence, the weight of everything that’s gone unsaid hanging in the air.

It’s you who finally breaks the silence. “Max…about tonight…”

He looks up at you, his expression unreadable. “What about it?”

You take a deep breath, gathering the courage to say what’s been on your mind since the moment he stepped in to protect you. “You called me ‘your girl’ back there. Why?”

Max’s eyes search yours, and for a moment, you see something in them—something deep, something vulnerable. He sets down his sandwich and leans across the counter, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Because…because that’s what you are to me,” he admits, his voice soft but firm. “You’ve always been my girl, Y/N. I just…I never had the guts to say it. I was afraid of messing things up between us, but seeing that guy…seeing him touch you, I just…I couldn’t stand it.”

His words leave you speechless, a mix of disbelief and overwhelming joy washing over you. You’ve wanted to hear those words for so long, but you never thought you actually would.

“Max…are you saying…?” you trail off, too afraid to finish the sentence, too scared to hope that this could actually be happening.

He reaches out, taking your hand in his, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. “I love you, Y/N. I’ve loved you for a long time. I just…I didn’t want to lose you by telling you.”

For a moment, all you can do is stare at him, your heart racing in your chest. Then, slowly, a smile spreads across your face, and you squeeze his hand.**

“I love you too, Max,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve loved you for so long, but I was too scared to say anything. I didn’t want to ruin what we have.”

Max lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, his face breaking into a wide, relieved smile. “God, we’re such idiots,” he laughs, moving around the counter to pull you into his arms. “All this time, and we’ve both been too afraid to say anything.”

You laugh too, the sound filled with a mix of relief and happiness. “Yeah, we are,” you agree, resting your head against his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath your cheek. “But at least we finally figured it out.”

Max pulls back slightly, tilting your chin up so you’re looking into his eyes. “And now that we have,” he murmurs, his voice low and filled with emotion, “we have all the time in the world.”

You smile up at him, your heart swelling with love for this man who’s been your best friend for so long, and now, finally, something more. “Yeah, we do,” you agree softly before leaning up to press your lips to his.

The kiss is slow and tender at first, both of you savoring the moment that’s been a long time coming. But soon, it deepens, the pent-up emotions from years of unspoken feelings pouring out. Max’s hands cup your face as he kisses you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go, and you melt into him, feeling like you’re finally where you’re meant to be.

When you finally pull back, both of you are breathless, and you can’t help but laugh again, the joy bubbling up inside you. “We really are idiots,” you say, shaking your head in disbelief. “How did it take us this long?”

Max chuckles, pressing his forehead against yours. “I don’t know,” he admits, “but I’m just glad we finally got here.”

You smile, leaning up to kiss him again, and this time, the kiss is filled with promise—a promise of a future together, of all the moments you’ll share now that the truth is out. And as you pull him closer, feeling his arms wrap around you, you know that this is just the beginning.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ taglist: @ham1lton @ietss @animeandf1lover @nelly187 @heartsfromtaeyong @bloodyymaryyy @nor-4 @zacian117 @mel164 @uhhvictoria @hadidsworld @zabwlky1999 @sya-skies @lillysbigwilly @avengers-assemble123456 @santanasaintmendes @km-23mr @hookhausenschips @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @Ronpho @minekarina @aeongism @formula1-motogpfa @slagclarens @aleexvqa @f1updates4you @booksandflowrs @chaostudee @winkev1 @strawblueberrys @yoncesgroove @tellybearryyyy @magixpracticality @eoduuung @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @demyackerman @oledoledoffen @acesbakery @oliviah-25 @bbwzrld

© 23victoria 2023-24 I all rights reserved. do not republish, steal repost, modify, translate or claim my work as your own

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Professional Indiscretion

Inspired by this post

Warnings: non/dubcon, degradation, demeaning behaviour, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Loki Laufeyson

Summary: a colleague returns from a recent vacation but is less than relaxed.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You’ve honed the skill of indifference long ago. The voices that carry from down the hall meld together in a dull buzz as you push them to the back of your mind. You’re less concerned with the latest water cooler gossip as your deadline bears down on you. 

You hate when a project comes down to the line. It couldn’t be helped. What should have been a two-person assignment was dropped solely in your lap. It isn’t the first time and won’t be the last. Your colleagues are less than reliable. 

As their voices glaze over each other, you shrug of your resent. They all have their obligations; golf rounds or the windfall of courtside tickets. You’ve never been afforded the luxury of a half-day to go play. You are the dependable one; as far as your coworkers are concerned, you have nothing going on besides picking up their slack. 

Work is work. You don’t linger on it; you just get it done. A peel of laughter jars you from your focus. You should close your door but that’s just an invitation. The last time, they simply moved in front of your door and spoke even louder. It’s like a game to them. 

Caroline’s bubbly laughter trills down the hall. She’s joined the rabble. One of the young temps the men love to flirt with. ‘Oh it makes me feel young again.’ Ugh, you couldn’t imagine turning the clock back twenty years. You’re happy that era of your life is over. 

You squint at the monitor and review your work. There’s a subtle tap on your doorframe. Your flicks up and back down. Loki. 

“Yes, how can I help you?” You ask as your fingers flutter over the keyboard. 

“Good afternoon to you too,” he drawls as he breaks the threshold. 

“Afternoon,” you continue to type. You try not to think of how this was meant to be his project. 

“I’m only doing my rounds. As you know, I was recently abroad and I brought back some sweets,” he crosses your office and sets a blurry object down in your peripheral. 

“That’s generous, I don’t have much of a sweet tooth.” You say. 

“You’re welcome,” he overrides your protest. 

You sniff, “thanks.” 

He’s quiet as he stands across from you. His gaze hangs over you like a dark cloud. You check the auto-save and retract your hands. You push your shoulders back and look at him. 

“You were the only who didn’t come out to congratulate me,” he muses. 

You sit straight. You are not unkind or inconsiderate. You just don’t come to work to socialize. You signed the card they sent with the flowers. 

“Congratulations on your wedding. It seems it was a success,” you say. 

He doesn’t react right away. He just stares at you. His green eyes are sharp and his lips a thin line. It isn’t the ego stroking he was looking for. You’re not quite sure what more to say. You’re not very familiar. 

He scoffs, “I see.” 

You blink, confused by the derision in his tone. You look at him past your monitor as he slowly pivots on his heel. It scuffs loudly and he marches to the door. He stops right before it then delicate grabs the handle and draws it shut. 

You tilt your head curiously, “I’m just finishing up a project, so I don’t have very much time--” 

“You’ve always been a dry old spinster, haven’t you?” He slithers as he faces you again. 

“Pardon?” You’re genuinely stunned by his accusation. It’s not the first time you’ve met with that sort of spite. There is a contempt reserved only for older women. 

“Yes, you strut around here as if you are a queen. Above us all, and I come to you with a token of good will, a souvenir from my honeymoon, and it only reminds you of how utterly pathetically alone you truly are,” he sneers. “So you offer me that trite look and your empty tiding.” 

You scrunch your lips in surprise and cup your hand in confusion, “nothing of the like. I’m sorry, I am rather busy with my work--” 

“Oh but this isn’t just today. It’s how it’s always been. You cannot be happy for anyone for your own misery,” he tuts. 

“If that’s what you think,” you sit back calmly. “I think you should go.” 

He lingers on the other side of your desk, “it’s because she’s young, I know it.” 

“What?” 

“My new wife. I see how it makes you bristle to know a man of your peerage couldn’t be bothered with you. You see, women age differently. They become bitter.” He snarls. 

“I hardly see how this is appropriate. I am asking you to go--” 

He sets his stance and lowers himself into the chair across from you. He smirks and pushes back his dark curls. Your spine locks up. That look in his eye, you’ve seen that in men before. 

“I know what the matter is,” he pushes his feet wide and grips his thighs. He postures so his shoulders are wide and high. “How long has it been?” 

You refuse to acknowledge his jeer. You shift to your monitor and go back to your editing. He clucks. 

“Months, years?” He suggests. 

“I’m busy,” you insist, keeping your eyes averted. 

“What the wife doesn’t know...” he growls. 

You flinch, appalled by his suggestion. 

“Leave,” you say. 

He snickers. “Are you so resigned to your feeble existence? Those lonely nights? In your condo, drinking your chardonnay, reclining on your chaise and reading the latest lascivious rag written for pruny old divorcees?” 

You freeze then slowly look at him. It could be a cruel assumption, though it isn’t untrue. In fact, it is far too accurate to be a coincidence. Down to the chaise and the chardonnay. 

“And that toy you keep in your jewelry box,” he curls a finger to mimic the curved shape. “Do you even feel it anymore?” 

“Get out,” you hiss. 

He smirks and arches a brow, “come.” 

He beckons with two fingers. You clutch the armrests of your chair and your nose flairs. You glare back at him, horrified. A newly married man and he’s here propositioning you. What’s more, he’s been watching you. 

“You’re disgusting--” 

“Get up,” he rubs his thigh. “And come here.” 

“HR--” 

“Oh, I know Bradon well. I will be happy enough to explain how you’ve grown so jealous of my young wife. You’re overworked so of course you couldn’t control yourself--” 

“He wouldn’t believe you--” 

“Wouldn’t he? We play squash on Sundays. He knows my character well. An upstanding member of the country club--” 

“Why are you doing this? What do you want me to say? Hm? Congratulations on your pretty young wife. Now, you should go home to her,” you snip. 

“I don’t want you to say anything,” he taunts as his eyes narrow snakishly. “I want you to come sit in my lap so I can show you how useless that toy truly is.” 

“You are--” 

“I am your villain,” he undercuts you. “And you have two choices. You can finish that project and submit it and have it tossed out for your indiscretions or you can do what I tell you and still have a job to support you wined-up erotica sessions.” 

You curl your lip, repulsed. There’s no point in asking why. Men do not operate on logic. 

“What’s it going to be?” 

You grit your teeth and take a deep breath. You push yourself to your feet and steady yourself. You move stiffly around the desk, eyes on the wall as you near him. As you get close, he grabs your hip and turn you. He forces you down so roughly that your ankles bend. 

You catch yourself on him, grabbing his hands as he grips you tight, and you writhe against his obvious arousal. A man like him can only get off on his own ego. You shudder and grasp his wrists. 

He pulls you back against his and rests his chin on your shoulder. You squirm as he untangles his arm from your hold. He hooks his arm around your stomach as his other tugs at your skirt. You huff and claw at his sleeves. 

“Alright, that’s enough, you’ve made your point--” 

He shoves his hand against your panties, pushing the satin between your folds. You gasp and twitch. You push your thighs together and crush his fingers. It only adds pressure. 

“You remember the day I started,” he turns to nuzzle your neck as he speaks, “and you had to make it known that you weren’t an assistant advisor, you were a senior.” He moves his fingers between the clutch of your tensed thighs. “That you were above me?” 

“No, I--” you gulp slap at his wrist. 

“Oh, and look at you now. Still above me, eh? Right there... on top of me,” he buries his hand against you and nips at your neck meanly. “You will be on your knees soon enough,” he flicks his fingers harshly and you spasm. “Right where you belong.” 

[wholoveseggs]

Kinktober - {Day Thirty} {<- kinktober masterlist}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List} {Kinktober}

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!Reader} Request {@queenofvelaris}: Lissa may I please request Elijah x female human reader? I have a lot of auto immune illnesses and constantly beat myself up, telling myself I’m weak. I would love some gentle love, admiration and assurance from dom!Elijah that he thinks the world of me I forgot to specify!! The request is for kinktober and I would like to request bathing and praise kink

♡♡♡ Thank you for the request sweet @queenofvelaris hope you like it ♡♡♡

1.5k words - Kinks: Elijah being super sweet, praise kink and bathtub sex ..

You woke up tired. You felt it in your bones. Your entire body felt heavy and exhausted. Today was going to be a long day. 

The alarm clock went off and you groaned, slamming the snooze button and rolling over. The air was chilly and under the blankets, you were cozy and warm.

You felt your boyfriend shift next to you and his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him. He buried his face in the back of your neck and left a soft kiss there.

You hummed happily, snuggling into him. He kissed your shoulder, then your neck. His hand sliding over your bare skin.

"Morning," he murmured, his fingers sliding across your ribs.

"Morning." You turned and met his lips.

He kissed you slowly, he was still a bit sleepy. Your tongues lazily stroked against each other, his teeth gently pulling on your bottom lip.

The alarm clock went off again, causing both of you to groan. You turned and shut it off before rolling back over.

"I wish we could just stay here all day." You cuddled back into him, his arms wrapping around you once more.

"We could," he said, kissing you again.

You giggled. "No, we can't."

"Sure we can." His hands slid down to cup your ass and he pulled you even closer.

You grinned. "Elijah, we have things to do today."

He pouted. "Do we?"

"Yes," you laughed, pushing at his chest.

He let you roll out of his embrace and watched you get out of bed. You stretched, arching your back. He admired the view for a moment.

You looked at him, grinning. "What?"

"You're so beautiful," he murmured.

Your cheeks warmed. "Stop."

He raised an eyebrow. "It's true."

"Well... so are you," you countered, turning away as you felt the blush spread down your neck.

He chuckled, getting out of bed and following you to the bathroom. You jumped when you felt him slide his hands around your waist, pulling your back to his chest. You leaned against him, meeting his gaze in the mirror.

He kissed the side of your head, resting his chin on your shoulder. You smiled, reaching behind you and tangling your fingers in his hair. His smell surrounded you, comforting and warm.

"How are you feeling this morning, sweetheart?" he asked.

You hesitated and he pulled back, raising an eyebrow.

You bit your lip. "I'm fine."

He frowned. "You're lying."

"No, I'm not."

He tilted his head, watching you.

You sighed. "I'm tired. A little worn down. But I'll be fine."

He watched you for another moment, and then nodded.

"Alright, love," he said, kissing your forehead.

You were grateful he didn't press the issue. He knew how much you hated it when people made a fuss about your health. But he always asked anyway, knowing you'd tell him if you needed him.

"How about you rest for a little longer and I'll start a bath for us?" he offered.

"Okay."

He smiled, kissing your cheek before he let you go. You watched him walk to the tub and start filling it. Then you returned to the bedroom and climbed back into bed.

The sound of running water was soothing, and you relaxed into the pillows. Your eyes drifted closed and your breathing evened out.

You were on the verge of falling asleep again when you heard the water stop. The smell of lavender and eucalyptus filled the room. You hummed, feeling him sit on the edge of the bed.

"Darling," he whispered.

"Mm?"

"Let's get you into the bath."

You groaned, opening your eyes. He was smiling down at you.

"Come on." He held his hand out.

You sighed, but let him pull you up and lead you to the bathroom. You shivered slightly as he slid his fingers across your hips, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of your panties. He tugged them down and you stepped out of them.

"Such a gentleman," you teased.

He chuckled. "Only for you."

He helped you into the bathtub. You sighed as the hot water engulfed you, the heat and scents working together to relax you. You leaned back, closing your eyes.

"You should join me," you said, smirking.

"If you insist."

You heard the rustling of clothes and watched him undress. Then he was stepping into the tub behind you, pulling you against him. You leaned back against his chest, humming in pleasure.

His bathtub was wondrous, it was nearly a jacuzzi. Deep, with jets all along the sides, and plenty of room for two. He had told you once that he had it installed because he liked to spend hours alone in the tub. It was where he did his best thinking. The thought of him sitting there, naked, surrounded by bubbles, pondering life, made you smile.

You turned and buried your face in his neck. He ran his fingers through your hair, his other hand tracing circles on your hip, moving lower to rub small circles on your thigh.

His fingers dipped between your legs, teasing. You inhaled sharply, parting your thighs for him. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

"You are so perfect," he whispered.

"Elijah..."

"You are," he insisted.

His fingers found your clit and began rubbing gentle circles.

You moaned softly, tilting your head back. He kissed along your neck, his breath hot on your skin. The water was gently lapping at your skin, adding another layer of sensation.

He increased the pressure of his fingers, rubbing faster. Your breath hitched, pleasure coiling tight inside of you.

"That's it," he murmured. "You're doing so well."

His voice, deep and sensual, was intoxicating. You couldn't get enough. You could feel yourself getting close, your heart racing, your blood rushing in your ears.

You gasped, arching your back as the first wave hit you. He held you close as you cried out, his fingers working you through the orgasm, drawing it out as long as he could.

When the last shudder passed, you sagged against him, panting. He brushed your hair back, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"Good girl," he murmured.

You moaned, your body already craving more. You shifted, feeling his hard length pressed against your lower back. He chuckled, his hands gripping your hips.

"Eager, are we?" he teased.

"That's your fault," you panted.

"My fault?"

"You and your stupid sexy voice," you grumbled.

He laughed. "I'm sorry."

You turned and pressed your lips to his, sighing as his tongue met yours. His hands gripped your hips, turning you around and guiding you on to his lap.

He broke the kiss, his gaze darkening as you slowly sank onto him. You both groaned, his cock filling you perfectly. You rocked against him, the water moving around you.

You began to move, his hands helping you keep the pace slow. Your breasts were pressed against his chest, his face inches from yours. He watched you intently, his lips parted slightly, his breath coming in soft gasps.

"I love you," he whispered, his eyes roaming over your face.

"Elijah..."

"Let go, my love. Let me see you."

You shuddered, your eyes fluttering closed as his words washed over you. You surrendered to him, letting him take control. He held you tight, his hands guiding your movements, his hips thrusting up to meet yours.

Your head fell back, his name a breathless moan on your lips.

"Yes, that's it. You're doing so well," he praised.

You could feel your orgasm building, a coil of pleasure tightening inside you. Your hands gripped his shoulders, the water splashing around you.

"Come for me, darling," he urged.

You gasped, your back arching as you came undone, waves of pleasure crashing over you. He groaned, his hips stuttering, his fingers digging into your skin. You clung to him, riding out the pleasure.

He buried his face in your neck, his breath hot on your skin. You tangled your fingers in his hair, holding him close. The water had cooled considerably, but neither of you wanted to move just yet.

You finally pulled back, meeting his gaze. He smiled, then suddenly lifted you up, the water sloshing everywhere.

You laughed, burying your face in his neck as he carefully stepped out of the tub and set you down onto the soft rug. You stood there shivering for a moment, but he grabbed a fluffy towel and wrapped it around you, pulling you against him.

You sighed, the warmth of his body seeping into your skin. You leaned into him, breathing him in.

"Better?" he asked.

You nodded.

"Good." He kissed your temple.

Once you were dry, he wrapped a towel around his waist and picked you up, carrying you to the bed. You giggled, feeling a bit like a princess. He laid you down, then joined you, pulling the covers up over the both of you.

You rolled over and nestled against him, the soft blanket enveloping you. He ran his fingers through your hair, his other hand tracing circles on your hip.

"You're too good to me," you murmured.

"Not possible."

You chuckled.

"Do you wish to stay here all day, after all?" he asked, smirking.

"Maybe," you said, yawning. "Just a little longer,"

"Of course."

He pressed another kiss to your forehead, and you drifted off, dreaming of baths and bubbles and his soft, gentle voice telling you how much he loved you.

{<- kinktober masterlist}

[daryltwdixon]

Summary: There is no choice, not really—just the weight of a decision that will haunt him for the rest of his days. Joel moves forward, because he has to, because stopping means losing, because if he looks back, he might see what he’s done.

warnings: psychological warfare and im really sorry. read with caution. Ellie hospital scene. It's a long one!

Joel

Joel gasps in a ragged breath as he breaks the surface, lungs burning, throat raw from swallowing half the damn river. His body is done, legs barely kicking, arms aching from the weight of what he’s dragging with him. The current fights to pull him back under, but he fights harder. He has to.

When he reaches the work ramp, the water slows, lapping lazily at the concrete as he collapses onto solid ground. His knees hit hard, pain ricocheting up his legs, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except the two unmoving bodies beside him.

Neither of you are breathing.

His hands tremble as he leans over both of you, chest heaving, mind spinning. Water drips from your clothes, puddling around you, your faces too still. Too pale. His heart is hammering against his ribs, panic flooding through his veins like a sickness.

He needs to move. He needs to do something, he can’t fail, he won’t fail. There's only so much time the brain can handle without oxygen.

But how is he supposed to choose? Who does he reach for first, who does he save first? It’s a paralyzing thought as he looks between you. 

Ellie . She’s immune, she’s the only hope left for the world. What started as a promise to Tess, the reason Henry and Sam died, the reason he’s still moving after losing everything. If she dies here, if this is where it all ends, the Fireflies won’t have a cure. Humanity won’t have a chance.

But then there’s you.

And if he loses you, if he watches you slip away under his hands, he doesn’t know if there will be anything left of him to keep going. 

The thought digs into his ribs, carves something hollow and aching in his chest, a terror deeper than anything he’s felt in twenty years. You aren’t just another person he’s had to protect, another responsibility thrown on his back. You’re something else entirely—something he wasn’t supposed to have, wasn’t supposed to let himself care about, but he does, God, he does. 

His breath catches, his hands hovering, twitching, desperate to do something.

He has to pick. He has to pick.

And he doesn’t know if he can live with his choice.

There isn’t a clear path here, no choice between right and wrong anymore. His chest tightens as the seconds bleed away, each one too precious to waste. Then, finally, he moves, pressing his hands down, forcing his hands into the chest cavity. It’s robotic at this point, panic melting into auto pilot, too sick to his stomach to think about what he’s doing.

“Hands in the air!”

The voice barely registers.

“She’s not breathin’,” Joel mutters, barely aware he’s speaking. His hands don’t stop, pressing harder, trying to force the chest beneath his palms to rise again.

“Hands in the fucking air!”

Boots slam against pavement. Rifles shift. He doesn’t stop.

“Come on,” he pleads, voice raw, broken, desperate. “Please, please—”

The footsteps close in. He refuses to look up. Someone moves fast, a shadow rising over him.

The weapon swings.

There’s a bright light above him the next time his eyes crack open, stark and unforgiving. For a moment, he wonders if this is it—the moment they all talk about, the light at the end, the peace after all the hell. Maybe this is where it ends.

Then his mind catches up.

It slams into him all at once—your lifeless body, Ellie’s motionless form on the cement, the desperate press of his hands, the gasping prayers caught in his throat. His breath hitches, his body jerking like he’s still trapped in the current, still fighting to pull you both to safety.

His eyes snap open fully. His pulse pounds against his ribs as he scans the room, unfamiliar walls closing in around him. The air smells too clean. The sheets beneath him are stiff and thin, the bed hard and unforgiving. There’s a deep, pounding ache in the back of his skull, his limbs heavy in a way that makes his gut twist. Something isn’t right.

He looks to his right, and sees someone that, for all he knew, was dead.

“Welcome to the Fireflies,” Marlene says, sitting beside him in a chair, legs crossed, her expression unreadable. 

She gives him a moment before saying, “Sorry about the…” he points to her head, reminding him of the source of the thrum in his skull, “They didn’t know who you were.”

Joel barely hears her. His throat is dry when he finally asks, “Ellie?”

“She’s alright. They brought her back.”

His stomach knots. He inhales, but the breath feels shallow. “And…?”

Marlene’s expression flickers—regret, maybe, but it’s distant, weighed down by something else.

“They were only told to bring in you and Ellie,” she says. “By the time I heard there was another girl… they told me she wasn’t moving, Joel. I’m sorry.”

His body stiffens, his back pressing against the hard mattress as he takes it in. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. The words are there, clear as day, but his brain refuses to take them in fully.

You were already gone when they got there.

His hands curl into fists, nails digging into his palms, but the pain doesn’t pull him out of it. His mind lingers in the space where you might have had more time, where if someone—anyone—had just tried a little harder, you might be here. If he had just worked faster. If he had made the right call.

But Ellie is alive. Ellie made it.

Marlene’s voice cuts through the fog, like she’s trying to process it all herself. “You came all this way… How’d you do it?”

“It was Ellie,” he mutters, his voice hollow. “And…her. They fought like hell to get here.”

“Maybe it was meant to be…” He whispers it more to himself than her, like if he says it enough times, he’ll believe it.

Joel pushes himself up, ignoring the way his body protests, but then he realizes—there’s a guard by the door.

Marlene exhales, shaking her head. “You were the one person I never wanted to be in debt to.” She doesn’t look at him when she says it, just stares ahead, like she’s still working through the reality of it all. “I pretty much lost everything. Most of my crew died getting me here. And then you show up, and somehow we find you just in time to save her.”

Not in time enough. Not for both of you.

Joel squeezes his eyes shut.

Marlene glances at him, voice softer. “Maybe it was meant to be.”

The words don’t feel right coming from her. They don’t feel right at all.

Joel swings his legs off the side of the bed. “Take me to her.”

“You don’t have to worry about Ellie anymore,” Marlene says. “We’ll take care of her—”

“I worry,” Joel snaps. “Just let me see her. Please.”

Marlene’s arms cross over her chest. Her eyes flicker to the guard. “We can’t. She’s being prepped for surgery.”

Something sharp lodges itself in Joel’s gut, cutting straight through whatever daze had been dulling his senses. The exhaustion, the grief, the weight of loss—all of it clears in an instant.

His voice is tight. “The hell you mean, surgery?”

“The doctors tell me that the Cordyceps, the growth inside her, has somehow mutated. It’s why she’s immune.”

Joel feels the guard shift behind him, closing in, but he barely registers it.

Marlene doesn’t flinch. “Once they remove it, they’ll be able to reverse engineer a vaccine.” She exhales, like she’s still convincing herself of the importance of it all. “A vaccine, Joel.”

His mind stumbles over the words, trying to put the pieces together. “But it grows all over the brain.”

Marlene just looks at him.

“It does.”

A thick silence settles between them.

His chest rises and falls, the pieces of the puzzle clicking together with sickening clarity.

“Find someone else,” Joel demands, voice cold.

“There is no one else.”

“Listen,” he growls, teeth clenched, hands curling into fists. “You’re gonna show me where—”

The guard moves before he can finish, slamming him down, pinning his arms behind his back as his chest hits the floor.

Joel grunts, pain sparking across his ribs.

“Stop,” Marlene says, and as Joel groans, pressing against the cold tile, she continues, “I get it. But whatever it is you think you’re going through right now is nothing compared to what I have been through.”

His jaw clenches so tight he feels his teeth creak.

Oh , fuck her .

Didn’t she get it? He was losing both of you. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

“I knew her since she was born,” Marlene’s voice cracks, just slightly, but she keeps going. “I promised her mother I would look after her. No one understands more than me.”

Joel barely hears her over the blood pounding in his ears.

“Then why are you letting this happen?” His voice is hoarse, nearly pleading.

“Because this isn’t about me,” she says, jabbing a finger into her own chest, anger flashing across her face. “Or even her. There is no other choice here.”

Joel exhales slowly, shoulders rising and falling as he pushes himself up just enough to sit back on his heels. His voice is dark, low, edged with something dangerous.

“Yeah,” he growls. “You keep tellin’ yourself that bullshit.”

Marlene straightens, glancing at the guard without a second thought. “March him out of here. He tries anything, shoot him.”

Joel doesn’t move, doesn’t fight, just glares at her from the floor.

She watches him for a moment, something almost unreadable flickering in her expression before she turns to leave. Just before stepping through the door, her voice lowers.

“Don’t waste this gift, Joel.”

Then she’s gone.

Joel stands there, Marlene’s words ringing in his head. Don’t waste this gift, Joel. Like this was some grand gesture, like they were offering him something instead of taking everything from him. Like he had a choice.

But what other fucking choice was there?

Going back to Jackson alone? Failing the both of you? Failing everything he had fought for, everything he had clawed his way through hell to protect? He couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t.

The guard orders him up. Then a second time, the barrel of a gun pointing down at him.

Joel obeys, moving slowly, forcing his mind to focus through the pounding in his skull. He needs time. He needs his weapons.

The gun shoves harder into his back now, an irritated breath hissing through the Firefly’s teeth. "Give me an excuse."

Joel tilts his head slightly. "Which way?" His voice is quiet, measured, just enough distraction.

The man jerks his gun to the left. Joel follows.

The hospital is dim, the only light flickering weakly over the center desk. It looks abandoned, half-dead already. But something catches his eye as he passes—a bag. His bag. His weapons.

His fingers twitch. He watches them until the wall cuts off his view, then slows his pace, working it through in his head.

The Firefly bristles behind him. "What the fuck are you doin’? Keep walkin’."

Joel doesn’t answer. He waits.

The second the guard’s gun nudges his back again, he moves.

It’s fast—an elbow thrown back, a sharp crack as it connects. The gunshot rings out, echoing through the halls, but it slams harmlessly into the wall. Joel is already turning, wrenching the gun from the Firefly’s hands, twisting his arm, shoving him back. The man grunts, dazed, and Joel slams the barrel against his face. Once. Twice. The Firefly’s head snaps back, blood splattering the wall.

Joel shoves his forearm into his neck, pinning him, pressing the gun to the man’s groin.

"Where’s the operating room?" His voice is low, controlled, cold.

The man grits his teeth and stays silent. Joel exhales through his nose, then pulls the trigger. The Firefly howls , sagging against him, body crumpling.

" Where ?" Joel growls again.

Still nothing.

Joel squeezes the trigger again.

"WHERE?"

The man’s head lolls, breath ragged, face twisted in agony. His knees buckle, Joel’s arm the only thing keeping him upright.

"Top floor," he chokes out. "Far end."

Joel lets him drop. A moment later, he doesn’t hesitate, firing a final shot into the man’s skull.

He grabs his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder, hands locking around his rifle just as the sound of footsteps barrels down the hallway. More Fireflies. More obstacles.

Joel doesn’t think. He just moves .

He pushes forward, steps calculated, rifle raised. The first Firefly barely sees him before he drops. Then another. And another.

One by one, he clears them.

His mind is razor-sharp, focused, his grip steady, his body moving on instinct. But your face keeps creeping at the edges, pulling at his resolve, yanking him back to the cement, to the cold water pooling beneath you, to the way your hair had fanned out, damp and lifeless, as he made his choice.

He shakes it off. He has to. He can’t lose both of you. He has to get to Ellie.

More bodies fall, but he doesn’t care. He isn’t leaving until he finds her. If he couldn’t save you, he would save her. He couldn’t leave alone.

His boots pound against the linoleum, moving faster, fueled by something deeper than adrenaline, something darker. The halls flicker in and out of shadow as the emergency lights struggle to stay alive. He follows the signs—pediatrics—how fucking ironic that they’d still use the same rooms meant for saving children, even now, in this ruined world.

It’s quieter here. The distant echo of gunfire fades, replaced by the steady, rhythmic beeping of machines. He moves down the hall, toward the bright glow spilling out from the small glass window of a red door. His stomach twists as he swallows thickly. The scrub-in room is sterile, lined with sinks, the scent of disinfectant cutting through the blood drying on his skin.

Ellie is on the operating table, too still, too pale, wires and tubes snaking around her small frame. His chest tightens. She looks lifeless. Just like—

No. Not now. He shuts it down.

There are voices. A murmur of surprise and confusion as he steps inside. The second the door swings open, the surgeon’s head snaps up.

“What are you doing?!” the man exclaims, instinctively moving back. His hands fumble for something, grabbing a scalpel—a scalpel , like that could stop Joel now.

He pushes through.

“I won’t let you take her!” the doctor shouts, voice cracking with desperation. “This is our future! Think of all the lives we’ll save!”

But those lives won’t be Ellie’s. They won’t be your life.

Joel moves forward, slow, measured. The surgeon bristles, stepping back until there’s nowhere left to go.

“Don’t come any closer! I mean it!”

Joel barely hears him. There’s only red. The bright light of the room turns crimson in his vision, flooding everything. His body moves before his mind even registers it.

The scalpel is in his hands. Then it’s in the man’s neck.

A sickening gurgle fills the air as the doctor stumbles, hands flying up to the wound as blood pulses between his fingers. He slumps to the floor, his body twitching before going still.

“No!” a nurse screams, voice sharp with horror. “You fucking animal!”

Another one hisses at her to shut up. Joel doesn’t care.

He’s already at Ellie’s side, unhooking her, pulling tubes from her skin, tossing aside the oxygen mask suffocating her small face. His hands are shaking, but he works quickly, murmuring low as he cradles her limp body in his arms.

"Come on, baby girl. I got you, I got you."

Then the alarms begin to blare.

A loud, shrieking wail rips through the hospital, the red emergency lights flashing in jagged bursts. Shadows move beyond the glass doors—flashlights cutting through the darkness, the rapid stomp of boots, Fireflies closing in.

He needed to move. Now.

With Ellie secured against his chest, Joel turns and runs.

You

It’s warm.

Not just warm—golden, like the kind of sunlight that filters through leaves in late summer, shifting and flickering in the breeze. The air is soft, thick with something comforting, familiar, wrapping around you like a heavy blanket. You hear the faint rustling of trees, the slow hum of cicadas in the distance. Somewhere close, a creek bubbles, the gentle rush of water against stone.

You’re lying in the grass, the blades tickling your skin, the warmth of the sun pressing against your cheeks. You should get up. You know that. But your limbs feel heavy, too relaxed, too comfortable.

Then, fingers brush against your temple.

A slow, careful touch, tucking the loose strands of hair behind your ear. It’s gentle, warm. Safe.

“Hey,” Joel murmurs, voice low and steady. “Come on now, sweetheart.”

You hum, eyes fluttering, but they don’t open. Not yet. Just a little longer. Let me sleep.

His thumb trails lightly across your cheek. “Need you to wake up, baby.”

Something in his voice makes your chest ache. There’s something wrong there, something pleading beneath the softness.

You want to stay here. You want to keep breathing in the warm air, feeling the sun, listening to the steady rhythm of his voice.

But then his hand is slipping away.

No.

You reach for him, but the warmth starts to pull back, the golden light fading . The sound of the creek dulls, the hum of cicadas fading into something else—something colder.

“Joel,” you murmur, voice thick, slow, like you’re trying to hold onto something slipping through your fingers.

“Wake up,” he says again, but his voice is changing, shifting, deeper now, rougher.

Then everything disappears.

Suddenly it’s freezing.

Your body seizes as cold slams into you, sharp and biting, cutting through the softness in an instant. Your chest tightens, lungs spasming, and then—

You’re coughing, choking, water spilling from your mouth as your body jerks violently, muscles convulsing as you fight for air. Your fingers scrape against rough cement, nails dragging as you push yourself onto your side, gasping, spluttering, your throat raw, your ribs aching.

You blink, forcing your eyes open, the dim light of the tunnel swimming in and out of focus. Your limbs feel leaden, frozen through, but you push up onto shaky elbows, sucking in a breath that burns all the way down.

Your heart is pounding.

The warmth is gone and so is Joel. Where was he? Where was Ellie?

Your stomach knots, panic rising through the exhaustion. You scramble up, your body swaying, head spinning as you look around, searching for them.

But the tunnel is silent, just the sound of water lapping against the cement of the tunnel. You grab your backpack, thankfully still here with your bow and arrows, and begin to move.

Then you see it, a glint of metal in the grass. Your breath catches as you stagger forward, fingers wrapping around it before you even register what it is. Ellie’s pistol. Your grip tightens around the handle, stomach twisting. She wouldn’t have left this, not on purpose.

Your breath comes quicker now, uneven, your pulse thrumming against your skin as you turn, eyes lifting toward the skyline.

The hospital stands in the distance, stark and still against the gray sky, its windows shattered, its walls stained. They had to be there, didn’t they?

The wind is sharp as you move forward, pushing through the lingering dampness clinging to your skin. Each step is heavy, sluggish, but you force yourself to keep moving, the weight of exhaustion trying to drag you down. The hospital looms in the distance, cold and silent. 

You keep your grip firm on Ellie’s pistol, fingers tightening and loosening as you scan the building for movement. Nothing. No signs of people except the lights glowing in the upper windows. No signs of Joel or Ellie. But they had to be here. They had to be.

The place is too quiet, too still, but that only sets your nerves on edge. Then you hear the voices.

You freeze, pressing yourself behind an abandoned car near the entrance, listening.

“…can’t reach anyone upstairs.” A man’s voice, low and tense. “All units should be responding, but I don’t know what the hell’s going on up there.”

“There were gunshots. You think it’s them?”

“I don’t know, but keep your eyes open. If they’re here, we put them down.”

Your pulse spikes. Joel.

He’s still inside. He’s fighting. Why is he fighting? What went wrong?

You duck lower, peering through the broken-out window of the car. Two Firefly soldiers stand near the side entrance, rifles ready, scanning the area. They’re blocking the way you were planning to go, and you know you aren’t strong enough to take them both in hand-to-hand combat. You barely have the strength to hold yourself up, let alone fight someone trained.

But distance. Distance you can work with.

You ease Ellie’s pistol into your waistband, keeping your breath steady. If you miss, you’re dead. If you alert the other Fireflies, you’re dead. There’s no second chance.

Carefully, you pull your bow from your shoulders, fingers brushing over the few remaining arrows. Not much left. You grab one, nock it, draw back.

The first man drops before his partner even registers what’s happened. A clean shot, straight through the throat. His body crumples soundlessly to the ground.

The second turns, eyes going wide, mouth opening to shout—

You loose the next arrow before he gets the chance, and the thud of his body barely makes a sound.

You don’t wait to see if anyone heard. You run. More voices crackle over their walkies, static-filled and frantic.

“ —we need backup now! He’s got the girl—”

Gunfire erupts from inside the building, but you keep moving, ducking low, keeping to the perimeter as you round the building. You’re almost to the parking garage when something grabs you from behind.

A thick arm wraps around your throat, yanking you backward, your vision tilting as you struggle. Your lungs seize, hands clawing at the arm crushing against your windpipe. He’s strong, too strong , and panic explodes in your chest as you thrash, kicking wildly.

Then you remember your knife.

Your fingers scramble for the handle strapped to your hip, yanking it free and plunging it backward, twisting the blade deep into his thigh.

The man startles, his grip loosening just enough for you to tear free, stumbling backward as you gasp in air. He’s still moving, staggering, reaching for you, so you don’t hesitate. You grip the knife tighter and slam it into his throat.

He gurgles, then slumps to the pavement.

You shake out your trembling hands, yanking the blade free, wiping the blood on your jeans. Your breaths come sharp and ragged, but you don’t stop to dwell on it. You won’t let the haze that had covered you for weeks in guilt come over you now.

The parking garage entrance is open, a long ramp sloping downward into the dark. You slip inside, sticking to the walls, careful to avoid making noise. The air is heavy, thick with the scent of oil and damp concrete, the overhead lights flickering dimly.

Somewhere above you, voices echo.

You follow them.

The stairwell is narrow, the metal steps cold beneath your fingers as you climb, moving slowly, cautiously. The closer you get, the clearer the voices become.

Then you hear him. The voice you would follow anywhere, even if it was into the dark.

Your stomach knots as you reach the top landing, peering through the crack in the door. He’s there, moving steadily, his arms wrapped around Ellie’s limp form as she wears a thin, blue covering, holding her close to his chest. Her head rests against him, her body slack, and something deep inside you twists so hard it nearly knocks the breath from your lungs.

Then you see the gun in the woman’s hand. It’s trained on him, steady and unwavering.

She stands just a few feet away, her stance firm, both hands gripping the pistol as she keeps her aim locked on Joel.

Your breath catches, the weight of the moment settling over you like a vice, pressing down on your ribs, squeezing your lungs. You swallow hard, moving to switch your bow for Ellie’s pistol, gripping it tightly in your hands as you desperately try to work out your next move.

“It ain’t for you to decide,” Joel growls.

“It’s what she’d want,” the woman says, circling him. You push deeper into the shadows, but she doesn’t see you, her gaze is locked on him, “You can still do the right thing here.” the woman says, holding her hands up, the gun beginning to point away from him.

And then you step out of the shadows, and pull the trigger. The shot rings out, splitting the air like a crack of thunder.

The woman stumbles, a sharp, gasping breath hitching in her throat as the bullet tears through her shoulder. She lurches forward, her pistol clattering to the ground as her hands fly to the wound, crimson blooming against her shirt.

Joel jumps back, and you can see the panic flare. He’s ready to fight anyone who comes in his way. He shifts away from Marlene, gripping Ellie tighter to himself, and grabbing his own gun and pointing it out from under her knees.

He twists around to face the threat, and his gaze lifts and meets yours.

For a long, few heartbeats, he doesn’t move. He just stares at you like he’s seeing a ghost, like he’s trying to convince himself you’re standing there, real and breathing. His chest rises and falls in ragged, uneven breaths, his arms locked around Ellie, his body trembling with something too big for words.

Your name slips from his lips, barely a whisper, his voice hoarse, breaking on the syllables like it physically hurts him to say it. His knees threaten to buckle, like his body is giving up on him, but he forces himself to stay upright, forces himself to hold onto Ellie because he has to.

Your eyes narrow on him, had he thought–

“What the hell is going on?” you whisper, stepping toward him, heart hammering.

Your eyes drop to Ellie, her small, limp frame cradled against him, her face pale beneath the flickering parking lot lights. Panic claws its way up your throat as you reach for her, your hands hovering over her body, searching for signs of injury.

“She—she’s okay,” Joel breathes, like he can barely believe it himself.

“She’s not supposed to be.”

The voice comes from behind you, sharp and raw with pain.

You turn to see the woman on the floor, her hand clutching her bleeding shoulder, her face twisted in something between agony and fury.

“He’s killing everyone,” she rasps, glaring up at you.

Your stomach tightens. You look at her, then at Joel. He shakes his head immediately, a storm building behind his eyes, anger and pain clashing so violently across his face that it scares you.

“He’s stealing her because he’s a selfish animal,” the woman spits, voice cracked and ragged. “He’d rather save her than the entire world.”

Joel only looks at you.

“Baby,” he whispers, his voice desperate, pleading, willing you to listen to him . You swear you can almost see tears in his eyes now, “Please. They were going to kill her. You have to understand.”

Your breath catches. Your throat feels tight, dry, like the walls are closing in around you. “Kill her?”

He nods, but the woman speaks before he can.

“It’s what she would’ve wanted, Joel, and you know it,” she says, her voice raw. “She would’ve wanted to save everyone, even if it meant sacrificing herself for it.”

Your head spins, everything shifting at once.

Ellie…Ellie would’ve had to die to create a cure?

You look down at her again, at her peaceful, unconscious face, your hands tightening into fists at your sides.

Disbelief and desperation crash into you like a tidal wave. You’re not entirely sure who the whirlwind of feelings is pointed towards at the moment. Joel was taking her. Taking her from her life’s purpose, from what she was meant to do, what she had fought so hard to become. They were going to make a cure. They were going to save everyone.

But to do that, they had to kill her.

Your pulse pounds in your ears as you look back at him. His grip on Ellie is ironclad, his knuckles white where they clutch at her shirt. His jaw is clenched, his entire body coiled so tightly you think he might snap apart.

And suddenly, you see it.

The way his breath shudders, the way his fingers tremble against Ellie’s skin, the way his eyes shine with something close to madness—he couldn’t lose her.

Not again. Not after Sarah. This wasn’t just about Ellie. It wasn’t just about a cure or a choice. This was about a father who had already buried one daughter and refused to bury another.

Your stomach twists. Your chest tightens. You don’t know what to feel.

But you know what to do.

“Get her in the car,” you say, pointing to the truck behind him.

Joel doesn’t hesitate.

He moves, carrying Ellie toward the vehicle, his arms still locked around her. You don’t look at him. You don’t let yourself think.

“No!” the woman cries from the ground, her bloody hand reaching toward you, desperate, grasping at anything . “Please, don’t—”

But Joel doesn’t let her finish. He sets Ellie down and turns, moving so fast you barely register it, “You’re just gonna come after her.” he says with eerie quietness.

Then the gunshot shatters the silence, and the woman’s body jerks, then slumps, her outstretched hand falling limp against the blood-slick floor.

Joel exhales, shoulders heaving, his grip tightening around the gun as if it’s the only thing keeping him upright. His chest rises and falls in sharp, ragged bursts, his head tilting back as he drags in a breath like he’s trying to steady himself. But there’s nothing steady about him right now.

He turns to you.

His eyes are wild, his face drawn tight with something raw, something too big, too heavy to carry alone. The way he looks at you sends something sharp through your chest, something painful, something close to grief.

“Sweetheart,” he breathes, his voice breaking, barely more than a whisper as he reaches for you.

And then his arms are around you.

It’s not gentle—it’s desperate, crushing, pulling you so tight against him that for a second, the air is knocked from your lungs. His fingers dig into your back, gripping you like he’s trying to convince himself you’re real, that this isn’t just another cruel trick of the world taking from him again. His breath shudders against your hair, his whole body trembling with something he can’t name, something he doesn’t even try to hold back.

“I thought—” His voice catches, cracking in a way you’ve never heard before. “I thought you were gone.”

Your chest clenches. You don’t know what to say, don’t even know what you can say. So you don’t. Instead, your arms wrap around him, pressing your face into his chest. He’s warm, so warm, his heart pounding hard beneath your cheek, his entire body still coiled tight like he can’t fully let go. Your fingers fist into the back of his jacket, holding him just as much as he’s holding you.

Neither of you move.

Then you hear more voices. They cut through the moment, distant at first, but quickly getting closer. Heavy boots against pavement. Shouting. Orders being given.

Joel stiffens, his arms tightening around you for just a second longer before he pulls back, his hands lingering on your arms like he doesn’t want to let go. His eyes dart past you, his expression shifting instantly, something hard and determined settling over his face.

“We gotta go,” he says, voice low, urgent.

You nod, stepping back, wiping a shaky hand to your tear streaked face as you turn toward the truck. Joel is already moving, carefully setting Ellie’s legs up in the backseat, his jaw tight as he checks her over one last time. The sound of approaching voices is growing louder, closing in fast.

Your fingers fumble as you grip the passenger door handle, heart hammering as you climb inside. Joel slams the driver’s side shut just as he twists the key in the ignition, the truck sputtering to life. Thank god it runs.

Joel is throwing it into gear suddenly, the tires screeching against the pavement as you speed out of the garage. The hospital vanishes behind you, swallowed by the night.

Joel’s hands grip the wheel, knuckles tight, his eyes locked on the dark stretch of road ahead. The truck hums beneath you, the only sound cutting through the thick silence that’s settled between you.

You sit stiffly in the passenger seat, arms crossed, still chilled to the bone, but you can’t tell if it’s from the cold or from everything that just happened. Your fingers twitch against your thigh, your mind racing in circles, trying to grasp the full weight of what you just walked into.

Joel exhales sharply, rubbing a hand down his face, the muscles in his jaw twitching. His body is wound tight, like he’s still ready for a fight, like he hasn’t let himself breathe since the moment he ran out of that hospital with Ellie in his arms.

You glance at her now, curled in the backseat, her chest rising and falling with steady breaths, unaware of what’s just happened. Of what Joel has done to keep her here.

The road stretches ahead, endless and empty.

Whatever it is, whatever he’d done… it would change everything, but it wouldn’t change this.

You shift slightly, leaning toward him. For a moment, he doesn’t react, his mind still miles away, lost in thoughts you can’t begin to unravel. But then, after a beat, he exhales, his grip on the wheel loosening just enough. His arm lifts, hesitates, then opens to you.

That’s all you need.

You move into him, pressing against his side, wrapping your arm around his middle. He’s warm, solid, the heat of his body seeping into your frozen skin, grounding you like it always does.

Joel sighs, the sound low, tired. His hand comes down to rest on your back, wide and steady, fingers pressing into the fabric of your shirt like he needs the reassurance that you’re really there.

“Joel?” Your voice is small, uncertain.

“Hm?” he grunts. Then, like he only just realizes you’re talking to him, he pulls in a breath, his palm splaying flat against your back, holding you closer.

“Yeah, baby?”

You hesitate, feeling the weight of what you’re about to ask settle thick between you. The warmth of his body, the way he’s holding you, it almost makes you want to let it go. To pretend, for just a little while longer, that you don’t want to know the answer.

But you need to hear him say it.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

His body stiffens against you. His eyes flicker down, just for a second, before returning to the road ahead. His grip tightens just slightly against your back, and you can feel the shift in him, the way he withdraws just a little—not from you, but from the moment.

You don’t let him retreat.

“I want the truth,” you say, firmer this time. “I can handle it.”

He exhales sharply through his nose, his jaw working, but he doesn’t answer right away. The silence stretches between you, tense, filled with all the things he isn’t saying.

Then, slowly, he leans his head down onto yours. His breath is steady, but the weight of him resting against you feels different than before—like an apology, like a confession without words.

“I know you can,” he murmurs, voice rough, low.

You wait, holding onto the warmth of him, listening to the hum of the tires against the road, waiting for him to speak again.

When he finally does, it’s quiet.

“I saved her,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. 

But somehow you know that’s only the half of it. 

You watch him for a long moment before you say: "From the beginning," 

The road stretches endlessly ahead, bathed in the soft light of morning. Hours have passed in near silence, the weight of everything settled heavy in the truck. Your hands grip the wheel now, your body aching from exhaustion, but the need to keep moving outweighs it.

Joel sits beside you, his posture slack but tense in ways only you would notice. His head rests in his hand, elbow braced against the door, his eyes a thousand miles away like he’s trying to keep his thoughts from spilling over. You glance at him, and he exhales deeply, the sound barely audible over the hum of the truck.

Then, a rustling from the backseat.

Your breath stills. Your fingers flex around the steering wheel.

Joel hears it too. His head lifts immediately, eyes flickering over his shoulder before shifting back toward Ellie, something raw and bracing settling in his expression.

Behind you, Ellie stirs. She groans, shifting sluggishly against the seat.

“The hell am I wearing?” she mutters, her voice groggy.

Joel turns in his seat, his voice softer than you’ve heard in days. “Just take it easy,” he says. “The drugs are still wearing off.”

Ellie blinks sluggishly, disoriented, her limbs heavy from whatever they pumped into her system. You can see it in her face, the confusion settling in, the questions forming.

“What happened?” she whispers.

The air in the truck shifts. You knew it was coming, knew the second she woke up she’d ask. But hearing it out loud so soon sends a sharp twist through your chest. Your gaze flickers to Joel. He’s looking down at his seat, his fingers twitching before he forces himself to sit forward again, watching the road like it might give him the right words.

Then, he speaks.

“We found the Fireflies,” he says, voice steady, measured. “Turns out there’s a whole lot more like you, Ellie.”

The words settle like a stone in your gut.

“People that are immune—dozens of them,” he continues, pausing briefly. “Ain’t done a damn bit of good… They just—”

He hesitates. Just for a second.

Then he turns back to her, eyes softening, but his voice firm.

“They stopped lookin’ for a cure.”

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, inhaling through your nose before focusing back on the road. You can’t bear to look at her, can’t bear to see the way she processes it.

She turns slowly, facing the rear of the car, her back now to both of you.

You swallow thickly, shifting in your seat, the weight of it pressing harder into your ribs.

“We’re headed home now,” you say, voice quieter than you meant it to be.

Joel looks back at her, something unreadable in his expression. A long silence stretches between you all, the hum of the tires on the road the only thing filling the space.

Then, his voice—low, almost inaudible.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

But Ellie doesn’t turn back.

The car hood slams down with a sharp metallic clang, echoing through the empty stretch of road. You scoff, wiping your hands against your jeans, smearing grease and dirt into the fabric. The truck had held out for as long as it could, but after hours of hard driving, it had finally given up on you.

“Looks like we’re walkin’ the rest of the way,” you say, shaking your head.

Joel comes around the front, glancing at the road sign half-covered in ivy. Jackson City, next right. The paint is weather-worn, but the words are still clear enough.

“Should be a straight shot through, anyway,” he says.

You nod, adjusting your pack as he takes the lead, stepping off the abandoned road and into the thick woods beyond.

The transition is instant; gone is the cracked pavement, replaced with the uneven, damp earth of the forest floor. The trees are massive, their trunks stretching high into the afternoon light, patches of blue sky barely visible through the tangled branches. A mix of pine and bare oaks crowd the space, the ground littered with dead leaves, rotting wood, and scattered patches of bright green moss. The air is cool, crisp with the lingering bite of winter, but there’s a freshness to it, the first hints of spring creeping back into the world.

As you walk, the sounds of civilization disappear entirely. There’s no hum of an engine, no wind rattling through empty cars. Instead, it’s just the woods, the crunch of boots against damp leaves, the distant rush of a river cutting through the valley below, the occasional rustle of a bird taking flight from the canopy above.

The trek is slow, the terrain uneven, but Joel moves with ease, pushing past overgrown ferns and low-hanging branches like he’s done this a thousand times before. You follow close behind, stepping over fallen logs, climbing small rocky slopes, your boots sinking into the soft patches of dirt still thawing from the last snow.

After a while, you find yourself walking alongside Ellie.

She’s been quiet for most of the trip, but when she finally speaks, her voice is so soft, so uncertain, that you almost don’t catch it.

“Were you there?”

At first, you don’t react, thinking she might not be speaking to you at all. But when you glance at her, she’s already looking at you, waiting.

There’s something in her expression—not just curiosity, but something deeper. A challenge. A plea. Like she’s giving you the chance to be honest before she even knows if she can trust the answer.

Your breath tightens in your chest.

You shake your head. “When we went underwater in those tunnels, I think I almost drowned. I don’t really remember much.” You keep your voice light, simply recalling everything that she knew, like the weight of this conversation isn’t pressing into your ribs. Stepping carefully over a patch of exposed roots, you sigh. “Then I woke up and the two of you were gone.”

Ellie listens. Hard.

Her boots scuff against a patch of damp moss, but she keeps her gaze ahead, her fingers curling into the sleeves of her jacket. You can feel her hanging onto every word, studying the way you say it, the space between the things you do and don’t tell her.

Your hands ball into fists at your sides as you glance up at Joel ahead, weighing the right words.

“I found you when Joel was already getting you into the car,” you say carefully. That much is true. And right now, the truth—or at least, parts of it—is all you can allow yourself to give her.

Ellie nods slightly, absorbing it. Then, after a pause—

“Did he tell you what happened?”

You hesitate for just a second before nodding. “Yeah, yeah. I met…” you pause, not even knowing the woman’s name that you shot, “I met a someone there. She was with him.”

Ellie’s face shifts with recognition, “Marlene?” she asks. “She knew my mom too.”

You glance at her, watching how carefully she’s watching you.

“Must’ve been her then, yeah,” you say, choosing each word with painstaking precision. “Joel said she was—is—the leader of the Fireflies.” The correction slips out, accidental and you hope she doesn’t catch it.

Ellie doesn’t press you further.

Instead, she just nods, pulling her jacket tighter around herself as she steps over a fallen branch. Quiet again.

The two of you keep moving, the only sound between you the rustling of wind through the leaves, the distant trickle of a stream winding somewhere nearby. The trees seem to stretch on forever, the mountains looming in the distance, their peaks still dusted in winter’s last snow.

Joel remains ahead, moving with a silent focus. And Ellie stays beside you, thoughtful, distant.

You don’t know if she believes you.

You come up upon a crest in the hills, where the trees thin out, and the view opens wide. Below, the valley stretches out beneath you, Jackson nestled safely between the mountains. Smoke curls from chimneys, dotting the landscape with the unmistakable signs of life.

Joel exhales beside you, the tension in his shoulders loosening just a little as he takes in the sight. His voice is softer when he speaks.

“You know, I used to take hikes like these with Sarah all the time,” he says, his eyes still on the town below. “I think you both would’ve liked her.” There’s a pause, a faint, almost wistful breath before he adds, “She would’ve liked you.”

Your eyes find his, and you can’t help the small, warm smile that tugs at your lips. He’s letting you in. Talking about Sarah like this, openly, with both of you, it means something. A comfort settles deep in your chest, softening the sharp edges of the last day and a half.

“Yeah,” Ellie says, her voice quieter. “I bet we would’ve.”

Joel nods, his gaze lingering on the valley a moment longer before he moves forward, leading the way toward the dam. You follow, stepping carefully over the uneven terrain, the cold, damp earth soft beneath your boots. Small streams snake through the land, feeding into the massive dam that marks the entrance to Jackson.

It’s close now. You’re so close.

But then—

“Hey, wait,” Ellie calls softly.

You and Joel stop immediately, turning to her.

She stands there, hands fidgeting together, her shoulders drawn tight, her face etched with something so raw it makes your stomach drop.

She sighs, almost more of a groan, rubbing her hands over her face before finally speaking.

“Back in Boston...back when I was bitten. I wasn’t alone.”

Your brows furrow as you listen, feeling something shift in the air, something heavy.

Ellie keeps going, her voice steady but distant, like she’s pulling the words from somewhere deep inside herself. “My best friend was there. And she got bit too. We didn’t know what to do so… she says, ‘Let’s wait it out, y’know? We can be all poetic and lose our minds together.’”

She pauses, swallowing hard, her fingers curling back into fists.

“I’m still waiting my turn.”

Joel takes a step closer, his expression tense. “Ellie—”

But she isn’t done.

“Her name was Riley, and she was the first to die.” Her voice hardens, gains strength, even as pain flickers behind her eyes. “And then it was Tess. And then Sam.”

The words drive a splinter deep into your gut.

Tess.

Your breath catches. Your mind reels, searching through old conversations, through Joel’s words back at Bill’s, in the kitchen, arms crossed, walls up. He hadn’t told you the truth. He never told you she died. But what had he said? Your brain tries to search for it, for what he told you that had happened, but for all you know it was a made up story.

You glance at him now, looking for something, for anything, in his expression. But he doesn’t look at you. His eyes stay on Ellie, his jaw clenched tight.

Ellie lets out a slow breath, eyes burning.

“None of that is on you,” Joel says firmly.

Ellie shakes her head, frustrated. “No, you don’t understand.”

Joel folds his arms over his chest, his voice gentler now, but still steady. “I struggled for a long time with survivin’,” he tells her, his expression softening. “And you. No matter what, you keep findin’ somethin’ to fight for.”

His arms unfold, his fingers brushing over the broken watch strapped to his wrist. Ellie shifts slightly, already turning away, but he isn’t done.

“I know that’s not what you wanna hear right now, but it’s—”

“Swear to me.”

Ellie’s voice cuts through his, stopping him in his tracks.

She turns back, eyes burning into his, demanding,“Swear to me that everything you said about the Fireflies is true.”

Joel shifts on his feet, and you watch him carefully, your heart pounding hard in your chest.

And then he looks her in the eye and says: “I swear.”

The silence is thick, stretching too long. Ellie’s eyes flicker to you, searching, waiting.

Your throat is dry, your pulse hammering, but you force yourself to nod.

“I promise. ”

It feels like acid on your tongue.

Ellie doesn’t blink. Doesn’t move. Then, after a long moment, she nods.

“Okay,” she says.

[pxstelmxsings]

I can't think of any specific topics aaa 😭, but do you have any NSFW headcanons about Hetalia Russia?

Of course I do 👀 I have been down bad for Russia from the age of 13.

Rating: 18+. Minors and ageless blogs do not interact.

Notes: I default to f!reader, so use of AFAB terms are used duch as clit, vagina, ect.

Also, this was written on mobile, so I am sorry for any weird spelling mistakes. Auto spell check has not been my friend lately.

1. The first few times Russia has sex with someone it is very simple. Kinks do not come into play until much later because he wants to learn your body. What makes you gasp, what makes you giggle, ect.

2. Something is always covering his neck, and it is the one part of his body that is off limits to being touched. He will hard stop sex if you touch his neck. Russia's neck scars are physically and mentally very sensitive.

3. Russia is the king of messy oral sex 👏 sit on his face and let him go to town. His tongue is perfectly frim yet still very flexible. He somehow reaches spots so deep inside you that your fingers can't even reach.

And yes, he knows where your clit is.

4. Everything about this man is thick, large, and strong. He was bulit for hard physical work and plowing you into the mattress. That being said, he doesn't move the fastest. His thrust are deep and have weight behind them that make choke on your moans, but it is done slowly.

5. For kinks, a big one is blindfolds and light bondage. I am talking about hands being tied with thin ribbon or very weak rope. And he enjoys it both ways, you blindfolding him or him blindfolding you; Because for him, the core pleasure of the kink is the trust needed to be tied up and how amazing it feels to be trusted like that.

6. He also loves fucking you in front or by a fire place. I am not sure why. Maybe a bit of temperature play or the pure aesthetic of it all.

7. Oh, and speaking of kinks mixed aesthetics, Russia loves having sex outside in his garden. He wants to spend as much time outside with you as possible before winter comes again. Plus, seeing you surrounded by beautiful flowers makes his heart flutter.

8. He hates teasing that goes on and on. Too much teasing is just mean, and he is there to please you.

9. He is great at taking care of you during sex but his after care is lacking. Russia knows that after care is important, yet he stumbles over what to do. Do you go get water first? Hoth bath? Food? Please help guide him by saying what you need.

10. Also, please ask what he needs in the way of aftercare. Russia often forgets about his own needs to focus on you.

[astraystayyh]

The only exception

barista Minho x reader. strangers to lovers. slow burn. if you can, listen to The only exception by Paramore while reading :)

Minho was content with straying away as far as possible from love. That is until you stumbled into his café on a rainy night, and unwittingly, into his life.

skz song series masterlist

i.

Minho sweeps the countertop with a blue rug, wiping away the scattered droplets of spilled coffee. He grabs a pastry from the showcase- a blondie with a raspberry drizzle on top, placing it on a plate decorated with dainty flowers. And then he gives it to the middle-aged man sitting near the back of the café. 

Minho is in Aurora, completing his mid-day shift, and yet it feels as if he's only physically there. His body is moving on auto-pilot, mechanically performing the familiar tasks etched into his memory by now. And he likes it, since it drowns out the tumultuous thoughts plaguing his mind.

Minho used to look forward to the days when Marta- Aurora's exceptional baker, would prepare blondies. The alluring aroma of the freshly made pastry would waft through the café, enveloping both Minho and the customers in a soothing embrace. He enjoyed preparing the coffee and drawing different pretty patterns on top of it. He also liked the music playing, and sometimes, the manager would even let him play some of his own playlists. 

But that was before Minho got his heart broken, torn in half, carelessly, as if it didn't belong to a breathing human, but rather to an unfeeling entity. Now, his lattes are void of intricate designs, the blondies prepared by Marta remain untouched, and his mind doesn't register the music playing. 

He's just existing, in a stillness he perfectly curated. He's a placid river, undisrupted, running its usual course day after day. 

Minho watches as the man clad in a polished suit finishes his treat, before getting up and leaving Aurora with hurried steps. He eats alone now, Minho has noticed, and his ring finger is void of the gold band he used to wear.

Perhaps that's what Minho's fate would also be. Eating alone in cafés he used to bring his lover to, basking in the chatter surrounding him, in the desperate hope that it'll fill the void inside him. 

ii. 

it's a Thursday, which means Minho is working the night shift at Aurora. It's pouring rain outside, the incessant water droplets a misty veil that fogs up the café's windows. Amidst the downpour, he catches sight of a couple dashing through the rain, hands tightly clutched into one another. They're giggling, as if the rain falling isn't a nuisance, but rather an elixir heightening their love. Minho looks the other way. 

The door to Aurora is pushed open, and Minho watches as you set foot inside. You're drenched in rain, from head to toe, strands of your hair sticking to your cheek. You exhale in relief, closing your eyes for a split second as the warmth of the café surrounds you- like a childhood blanket tightly wrapped around your being. There is a hint of a smile as you walk to the counter. It only grows when your eyes set on Minho. 

"Hi!" you greet cheerfully and he simply nods in return. The weather was horrible and you were probably uncomfortable from the clothes clinging to your skin, so what were you exactly joyful about?

"Can I have hot chocolate, please? Oh, and a piece of that brownie," you point to the showcase, and he follows your line of sight. 

"Sure, anything else?" 

"No, thank you," you smile, and he nods once again. "That will be 10 dollars." 

"Here," you hand him a crumpled bill and he takes it from you carefully, ensuring your hands don't brush against one another. 

You sit down on a chair near the window, and Minho dutifully prepares your order. He brings it to you once he's done, and you grin at him once again. You smile a lot, he thinks to himself. 

Minho goes on with his tasks, cleaning the dirty cups in the sink and grounding the coffee beans. When he's done, he can't help but notice you grabbing some napkins from the table and dabbing your neck and face dry with them. He sighs to himself before retreating to the café's backroom.

"Here, to dry your hair with," he says, handing you a clean towel.

Minho leaves before you could smile at him again. 

iii. 

It's Tuesday, and Minho has just served a freshly baked cinnamon roll to Mark- the middle-aged man who just introduced himself to Minho after months of frequenting Aurora.

Minho liked having regulars in his shifts, familiar faces to look into. This was part of the reason why he picked being a barista as a part-time job- he enjoyed people-watching. Not in a noisy way; he simply liked imagining the lives of the people surrounding him. It served as a distraction from his own. 

Among the regulars was a woman in her thirties who only ordered a chaï latte with a blueberry muffin. Then there was that one student, with blonde hair and freckles dusting his cheeks. He really despised bitter coffee, always ordering his with abnormal amounts of syrup.

And now, there was you too. You've been coming to Aurora regularly for the past few weeks since your initial visit. Minho still hasn't memorized your go-to order because you don't have one. You pick a new drink each time as if you were on a mission to taste everything on the menu. 

You come here alone, occupying the same seat by the window with your chin resting on your palm. He suspects you enjoy people-watching too since you often gaze outside. You also bring books with you, reading them while sipping on your beverage. Sometimes you write too, in a tiny sage notepad. 

And you smile, god do you smile a lot. At young children passing by in the street, at an elderly couple holding hands, at the black cat that sleeps on the edge of the window. And you smile at Minho. Each time you order, each time your eyes meet his from across the café. Minho likes to believe that happiness was so deeply ingrained within you, it became the very essence of your soul- an intrinsic part of your being you could not part with.

The door to Aurora is pushed open and Minho isn't surprised to see you entering once again, your bag loosely hanging from your shoulder. 

"Hi!" you greet excitedly as you usually do, and Minho simply nods, as he usually does. 

"I'm sorry if this is a bit weird," you preface, piquing Minho's curiosity. "I'm not really craving anything today, so can you make me your favorite drink?"

"My favorite drink?" he repeats, a bit incredulously and you nod eagerly. "Yes, I drink anything and I don't have any allergies, so whatever you prepare is fine!" you smile hopefully at him.

He stays silent, mulling over your request. He goes to say no, but the smile slowly slipping from your face makes a strange pang of guilt wash over him.

"On second thought, I'll just have-"

"Okay," he interrupts, "I'll bring it to you when it's done," he quickly says and the smile etches itself on your lips once again. Minho feels an unexpected relief dawn on him at its sight.

"Thank you! I'm yn, by the way," you introduce.

"Minho," he says, although you can read it on his nametag. 

"Minho," you repeat, and he finds himself itching to hear his name dripping from your lips again.

Minho prepares you an iced americano with cold foam, and two pumps of white mocha, since you seem to enjoy drinks on the sweeter side. He watches breathlessly from the counter as you take a sip of it, closing your eyes to fully relish in its taste. Your nose scrunches up in delight before you quickly turn around to shoot him a thumbs up from afar. 

Minho nods, before turning his back to you. Unwillingly, a small smile tugs at his lips. He's glad you liked it. 

iv.

Another Thursday unfolds following its usual routine. Mark occupies his customary spot in the rear of the café, while the scent of Marta's lemon madeleines permeates the kitchen.

Except you're not smiling. 

Minho finds it odd, how there was no cheerfulness in your steps as you walked to the counter. You did not smile while ordering, and your voice carried a tinge of sadness when you thanked him.

You did not ask about his day, nor about his cats- that was also something unusual for you to do. You've asked about them each time since Minho told you about them. He didn't plan on doing so, he just saw you one day eyeing the stickers of his three cats on his phone case, while he was counting your change.

"Are they your cats?" you asked, pointing at them and he nodded, a faint smile dancing at the corners of his lips.

"They are."

"You must love them a lot. They almost managed to make you smile," you teased, grabbing the rest of the money and walking to your usual seat. 

Minho steals brief glances at you, as he prepares your matcha latte, a drink you seemed to enjoy a lot lately. You're gazing at the window almost soulfully, your back slightly hunched as if there was an invisible weight crushing you underneath it. 

Minho nibbles on his lower lip, contemplating his next move, before grabbing the frothed milk. For the first time in months, he draws a little cat on the surface of your drink, just like he used to do a long time ago.

He brings it to you, and his heart flutters nervously as you gaze down at the cup. He almost second-guesses his action, that is until you beam at him, and Aurora suddenly feels brighter than it did seconds ago. 

v. 

"When does your shift end?" you ask Minho as he sets your perfectly crafted matcha latte on the table- an order he has committed to memory by now.

"In an hour, why?" he asks curiously and you wave your hand dismissively. "Just wanted to know." 

The seconds trickle by slowly, as the hour almost comes to an end. You watch as Minho takes off his apron, running a hand through his hair. It's gotten longer now, silky bangs he tucks behind his ear to keep them from obstructing his vision.

He talks a bit to Seungmin, the other barista that works there. And then he steals a quick glance around the room, where he finds you already looking. You wave him over, and he tilts his head slightly in confusion, before walking to your table. 

"Sit down," you smile, gesturing to the chair in front of you. Minho complies silently.

"Here," you take out a container filled with brownies from your bag. "I never properly thanked you, for the towel and for the little cat you drew on my coffee last week. So, here, thank you," you beam at him while sliding the box in his direction.

"I don't- it's nothing, you didn't have to," he says, and you notice a tinge of pink blush covering the tips of his ears.

"I wanted to. I hope you'll like them, I'm not as good as your baker, but I tried," you confess, smiling sheepishly, and Minho feels a sudden urge to vehemently contradict you, to tell you that they must taste good. And even if they didn't it wouldn't matter, because you baked them for him. And that is enough. 

But he bites the inside of his cheek harshly, physically stopping this rush of words eager to escape his mouth.

"Let's eat them together, hum?" he simply suggests, opening the container and placing a brownie on your plate before taking one himself.

"Is it good?" you ask tentatively and he pretends to contemplate your question for a moment.

"They're horrible, right? I shouldn't have taken creative liberties with the recipe and-"

"Yn, I'm just kidding," he stops you, a soft smile on his face. "They're delicious, see," he says, finishing the brownie in one bite. "Really good," he compliments, reaching for another piece. 

"Okay," you smile in relief, eyes crinkling closed. The sunlight is streaming through the window, casting a golden shadow on your face. You are swaying contently in your place, as you take another bite of the brownie. And you look happy, with him. Minho thinks the brownies are the best he's ever had because he's sharing them with you. Because he got a taste of your happiness through them. 

vi. 

"Can you believe that professor? He failed half the class and he still thinks he isn't the problem." 

You are venting to Minho about your stuck-up Economics professor, while leaning against the countertop. He's listening intently to you, drinking in the details of your face as you talk to him. For some reason, he finds the smile lines on your face mesmerizing, that and the way your eyebrows move with your every word. 

These subtle details have been engraved into his memory since the day you gave him the brownies, two months ago. He has grown fond of you, sitting at your table at the end of his shift without you having to ask. You also hang out outside of Aurora, going on frequent walks and discovering new food spots. He never felt that the conversation between you two was strenuous, or forced. It flowed naturally, like a waterfall knowing exactly where it should go.

He also finds that smiling is easy with you. At your jokes, your stories, and your existence. He's lost count of the times he found himself grinning widely at your words, or smiling softly to himself at the thought of you coming to Aurora soon.

"He's too full of himself to admit he's the one who sucks at teaching," Minho comments and you clap in agreement. 

"Right! And it's so funny because..." You're still talking but your words go unheard by Minho, like a mindless buzz in the back of his mind. He's frozen in his place, his heart beating wildly in his ribcage as he notices the couple who just came in.

His ex, with the man she cheated on him with. 

"Minho? What's wrong?" you call out, snapping him out of his daze. You're eying him worriedly, and only then does he realize how tightly he's holding the countertop. 

"Nothing," he curtly replies, as he plasters a neutral expression on his face. 

He watches as his ex's eyes widen slightly when she sees him. She forgot he was working here. Of course, it'd be easy to do so since she never visited him at Aurora anyways. Despite the flood of emotions cursing through him, Minho maintains a stoic facade, taking their orders as if she's a mere stranger and not the one behind his shattered heart.

As Minho attempts to prepare their coffee, his hand trembles uncontrollably, forcing him to stop before dropping the milk.

He didn't love her anymore, he was certain of it. But still, the sight of her brought unpleasant memories back to the surface. Ones he tried so hard to bury in the back of his mind. And Aurora was his sanctuary. One, she never tainted with her presence. Has she not taken enough from him already? 

"Minho?" you call out softly, and Minho feels guilty because he left you alone with no explanation. Still, when he turns around, he can tell you aren't upset. You are worried, looking at him cautiously. 

"Is everything okay?" you ask once again, and this time Minho can't find it in him to lie to you, so he simply shakes his head no. 

"Your hand is shaking," you observe, before gently grabbing it in yours. You cover his hand with both of your palms, squeezing it lightly to steady the tremors cursing through it. 

Your hand is warm, and very soft, a stark contrast to the sharp emotions surging within him, like pine needles puncturing his heart.

"Would you like me to serve them?" you ask softly, and Minho isn't surprised you picked up on his unease. You're perceptive, it's one of the things he likes about you. 

"Please," he responds quietly. You simply smile, reaching for an apron and wrapping it around your waist. You look adorable, intertwining yourself with his world, and the sight of you eases the ache in Minho's soul.

A few minutes later, you grab the tray from his hands and walk over to their table. Minho chuckles inwardly when he notices that you didn't smile at them, serving them with a blank face, and his chest warms a little.

He has you on his side. 

Five days later, you're sitting besides Minho on a bench; watching the sun as it dips into the ocean, painting the sky in hues of orange and yellow. Yet, the dazzling colors are the last thing on Minho's mind. All he can think about is you. How you helped him with serving the rest of the drinks that day, how he taught you how to work the coffee machines- a solace from the ugly feelings that roared in him.

"Thank you," he abruptly says and you turn to look at him, perplexed.

"For what you did the other day, with the couple that came in. That was, um... my ex and the person she cheated on me with," he confesses quietly, fiddling with his earlobe. He didn't need to tell you, but he wanted to. "I've moved on, it's just... seeing her again hurt. I don't know why." 

Your eyes soften at him, not in pity, but in care. And Minho doesn't mind being vulnerable with you. It's scaring him, but he doesn't mind.

"It's normal for it hurt, it would honestly be weird if it didn't," you smile gently and he sighs in reply, running a hand through his hair. 

"I wish it didn't."

"Love is a powerful feeling, it consumes our entire beings. That's why it hurts when our hearts are toyed with. But love itself doesn't hurt, I feel like it's what makes our world move. You know, the little gestures humans do for one another, that are fueled by love. Like, um... scratching someone's back or peeling someone's fruit. You don't have to do those things, but you do. Because you love the person, and it makes your existence feel gentler, and softer on the heart." You explain, the words leaving your mouth and wrapping around Minho's soul, healing parts of him that he didn't know were bruised.

"My point is, it's normal for you to be hurt. But I hope you don't close your heart entirely to the feeling. Because we may not have grand things in our life, but if there is a hand that brushes our tears away and one that folds our laundry, then that's enough for us to lead a beautiful life."

Minho blinks repeatedly, in a desperate attempt to keep his tears at bay. He felt as if the letters you uttered unfolded and stretched in front of his eyes, morphing into a gentle hand patting his back. Yours.

You smile softly at him, the water's reflection shimmering in your eyes. And Minho thinks that he's standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to dive into the unknown- into you. 

"How do you do it?" he chuckles in disbelief, as he leans a bit closer to you. "You make me want to believe in love again," he pauses, before adding quietly, "but only if it's with you." 

You remain silent as Minho fidgets with his fingers, before tentatively grabbing your hand in his. He doesn't look at you, his gaze fixated on the way your fingers naturally intertwine with one another- as if finding each other after a lifetime of being apart.

"You know, I'd thought I'd always live like this, keeping a comfortable distance between me and people," he says, raising his head to finally meet your eyes, "and up until now I thought I was content with it, with loneliness, I mean. But... but brownies taste sweeter when I'm with you, and Aurora is brighter when you are in it, and smiling feels like second nature around you. And I don't... I don't think I can go back to being lonely again, not when I've had a taste of you in my life." 

Minho's heart is beating wildly into his chest, and he can hear the blood rushing through his ears, frantically, as if to warn him against what he's about to say. But your thumb caresses his palm reassuringly and he wants to try again. With you.

"I- I never wanted to love again, because no one, none of it was ever worth the risk, but you... You are the only exception."

Minho exhales breathlessly and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him to your chest. You hoped that your warmth would ease his nerves a bit, that your hand on his back would feel gentle on his soul. You didn't want to rush your answer, trying to think of something that will patch up the deeply carved scar in his heart, a perfectly made band-aid in the shape of syllables.

It's a foolish hope, you realize, to instantly quiet the cries of a bruised spirit. So you simply settle on saying the truth sitting on the edge of your tongue.

"It will be quite hard, and scary for you," you whisper placing a tender kiss on his shoulder blade. "But I'll help you, if you'd let me. I'll take care of your heart better than I do with my own."

vii.

"Hey, baby," you smile at Minho, slipping behind the counter to be by his side. He pulls you by your waist, kissing your cheek softly.

"I missed you," he pouts, and you giggle, playing with strands of his hair, "I missed you too."

"Do you know what day it is today?" he asks, a shy smile gracing his face.

"No...?" you trail out and he chuckles, taking your hand in his.

"Don't worry, you didn't miss my birthday. It's just... it's been a year since you first came into Aurora."

"You remember?" you ask in amazement, your heart swelling with love for the man standing before you.

"Mm, how could I forget you? Also," he sneakily points to a table near the back, "my favorite couple is back."

You turn around, a soft gasp escaping your mouth as you find Mark gently holding the hands of his date. You smile happily when you finally notice it- the wedding ring, finally back on his finger.

[frayaziwriter]

I'm A Spider - Wait, What?

Chapter 1

You weren’t sure what was happening.

One minute, you’re dying and the next you’re-

Actually, where are you? It feels like you’re in some sort of container.. You squirmed a bit, and the thing pushing against you on all sides rocked back and forth, but you couldn’t seem to break through. 

Huffing, you tried again. You felt something give way and pushed once more. 

Crack. Crack. CRACK.

You topple out of whatever container you were stuck in and land harshly on the hard rock below. What the hell?? Where-? Turning around, you catch sight of - is that an egg? Did you just come out of an egg?

What was going on??

You frantically glance around, your eyes searching for something you weren’t quite sure of what but were confident you’d know when you found it. And all you saw were similar eggs to the one you just climbed out of.

The hell??

A shadow loomed over you and you glanced up. Flinching back, you skittered back into the remnants of the silver egg. Above you stood a giant yellow spider. 

‘Holy fucking shit!’ You thought. Your feet moved instinctually and you found yourself skittering across the rocky ground away from the monster spider. ‘What the hell is that?!’

[Answer; an Arch Knight. Arch Knights are a type of spider monster. This one belongs to the Golden Spider Clan.]

‘What - what - what - what?’ You screeched as a golden egg beside you started cracking. Skidding to a stop, you watched dumbfounded as the golden egg broke apart to reveal - another giant yellow spider.

Even though they were roughly the same size as you, they were still bigger than you and it was terrifying.

The spider crawled out of its egg and met your eyes. A moment passed and then-

A loud screech stabbed your nonexistent eardrums.

You swore your soul left your body a second time. ‘Okay - what the fuck?! Why the hell am I surrounded by giant spiders?!’

[Answer; you are in a spider-hatching cave.]

‘Yes, I got that thank you, but why?! And what the frick are you?! Why are you in my head?!’ You jumped when more golden eggs around you started cracking. Out came more bright yellow spiders, and suddenly you were being bombarded on all sides by cries from unreasonably big baby spiders.

[Answer; I am your {Unique Skill; Chiron}.]

‘Okay.. That explains nothing. ‘Skill’? What are those? And why am I here?!’ You flinched when the Arch Jurogumo behind you suddenly dropped a giant snake-like corpse. All the spiders around you rushed towards it. Your stomach rumbled. 

[Notice; you are running low on energy. Suggestion; eat. The Arch Jurogumo delivered sustenance.]

‘So, you want me to go to the giant spider that may or may not eat me in the hopes of getting food? Do you want me dead?!’

[Suggestion; if you do not want to die, eat the Black Serpent.]

‘...I’m hallucinating. This is a fever dream my brain made up as I’m dying.’

[Notice; you have already died. You have been reborn as a Small Lesser Taratect.]

You froze. ‘...I’m a what..?’

[Answer; you have been reborn as-]

The world went dark.

[...Notice; starting {Auto Pilot}. Hijacking body in three...two...one. {Auto Pilot} is now on.] <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

When you woke up next, you were eating something and yet you weren’t in control of your body. 

‘What the fuck?!’

[Notice; you had fainted due to low energy levels and high shock levels. {Auto Pilot} had been activated for safety.]

‘You can hijack my body whenever you want?!’ You thought as you gobbled up another bite of food. ‘That’s creepy!’

[Notice; you were going to die. Deactivate {Auto Pilot} now that you are safe from dying?]

‘Yes, please!’ And suddenly your body was yours once again. You peeled yourself away from the food and shook your new body. You were full now, so you backed up from the Arch Knight and - shit, that is a really big snake. You eyed it one last time before turning tail and making your way to what you assumed was a stream of clear water.

It was coming from some sort of crack in a wall and was pooling into a hole. You studied it for a moment. The hole was smooth at the edges, showing that it’s been smoothed down by the water for years upon years. Eying the cracks in the wall showed the same smooth edges as the pool.

The water itself looked clean, but... There was always that lingering doubt in the back of your head. ‘Is this even safe to drink?’

[Answer; yes.]

‘...Oh. Thanks?’ 

Reaching a leg down, you poked the water’s edge. Ripples spread out from your touch and you watched, transfixed, as the image of your new body came into focus.

‘So.. I really am a spider.. Heh, this is so weird.’

It was..a bit jarring to see a pure white spider with eight red eyes staring back at you instead of your old human face. Actually, scratch that. It was downright unsettling! There was still a part of your brain convinced this was a fever dream, but..the more time you spend in this cave, the more you realize that it wasn’t a fantasy your brain made up to soothe you in your dying moments. 

This was real. 

And you had no idea how to handle it.

You decided to deal with this later. So, you dipped your leg into the pool and cleaned the droplets off of the spiky fuzz on your pointy leg. ‘Now that I have a clear head.. How the hell can I eat regularly? Spiders don’t have the same kind of digestive system as humans! Does this mean spider monsters in this world aren’t actually spiders?’ Then, you paused. ‘I just realized.. I’m the only spider here that’s white.. And everyone else has a different body shape, too! I wonder why..’

[Answer; you are the first and only Jorogomo of your clan. Congratulations.]

‘Huh. Thanks.’ You paused and turned back to your reflection. ‘Hey, you mentioned earlier a ‘yellow clan’. What’s that about?’

[The Golden Spider Clan is the fourth spider monster race to appear. They belong to the monster species “Jorogomo”, commonly known as “Giant Spiders”. There are currently three older clans before the Golden Clan; Obsidian, Bronze, and Ruby.]

‘Does that mean...I’m clanless? I’m a different color than everyone here..’

[Answer; you are the first of your race. Congratulations.]

You huffed. ‘So, I’m currently clanless.’

[Answer; correct.]

Moving away from the pool of water, you face your siblings. (Were they actually your siblings? You knew regular spiders can have hundreds of children at once, but your new form isn’t exactly just like a spider..) ‘Nice to know. So, uh.. Why do they look different?’

[Answer; the Golden Clan are known as the warriors of the Jorogomo species. They have evolved for battle.]

‘I..see. This implies that Jorogomo races have separate abilities, correct?’ You clicked your chelicerae together. ‘Since the Golden Clan are the ‘warriors’?’

[Answer; correct. Would you like to learn the other races’ purpose?]

Humming, you shake yourself in a quasi-shrug. ‘Sure, why not? Should come in handy later.’

[The Obsidian Clan are known to the surface world as “Black Spiders”. They are the oldest clan of the Jorogomo species. Their purpose is espionage and planning. The Bronze Clan is the second oldest. They are the species’ builders and have carved out the underground colony the species lives in today. The Ruby Clan are the medics and farmers. They provide sustenance and medicine for the species. You already know the Golden Clan’s purpose, and your clan’s purpose is currently unknown.]

You would sigh if you could. ‘Because I’m the first.. Got it. Okay. Um, thanks! Now, do you have any suggestions on leaving this place?’

[Notice; it is not recommended for a Small Lesser Taratect to travel outside of a hatching cave. Especially one belonging to the Golden Clan.]

The chelicerae clicked again. You eyed the hulking form of the Arch Knight just...staring out over the sea of golden spiders. What was up with it? ‘How come?’

Just then, a spider hatchling near you shrieked. You turned around just in time to see it pouncing on another hatchling. The two spiderlings screeched and clawed at each other, and soon a few more spiders got caught in the fight. You shrank back as more and more hatchlings joined in, and then you found yourself skirting around individual fights to find safety.

[Answer; the Golden Clan is prone to fighting each other, especially in the first few stages of evolution. Golden Spiders live by the rule of, “Survival of the fittest.”]

‘Oh great!’ You think frantically while you skitter around pouncing spiderlings and flying claws. ‘I just had to be born in the most belligerent family ever!’ You swiftly found a rock column and climbed it. 

Turning back once you deemed yourself high enough, you watched as all hell broke loose down below. You shuddered. ‘Glad I escaped that..’

“Damn, it started already? Not even an hour into life and they’re already fighting! Nice!” You jumped at the sudden voice echoing through the large cavern and glanced up at the Arch Knight. That was the first spoken voice you’ve heard since you died! It took you a few moments, but you eventually managed to spot the speaker.

And once your eyes landed on her, you double-take. What the hell? What’s a girl doing here?!’

Standing right next to the Arch Jurogumo was a girl with beautiful golden hair. She was decked out in full armor and a weapon was held tightly in her hands. Her red eyes flitted across the sea of fighting baby spiders and a grin spread across her face. You estimated her physical age to be around mid-teens, but something told you that her looks were deceiving. (She looked so...unassuming. Like the kind of person who rarely got angry.)

[Notice; that is not a girl.]

‘Then..who is she? What is she?’

[Answer; that is the Golden Queen Spider.]

Holy shit, the queen was a human?! Wait.. queen? Like a queen bee?

[Notice; the Queen Spiders are the leaders and mothers of the clans. They are not human.]

Oh. But, she looked so..human-like. 

“Hey, hey,” The queen patted one of the left forelegs of the Arch Knight impatiently, “You said you had something to show me? What is it?”

The giant spider turned to look up at you before raising its first right foreleg to point at you. You felt your heart skip a beat. (Wait, do you even have a heart anymore? Does it even pump blood like human hearts?!) The queen followed its leg and her red eyes were suddenly on you.

‘Oh, shit-’

An even bigger grin stretched her face while her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. She raised her weapon (which you belatedly realized looked a lot like a spear) and slammed the butt of it down on the rocky ground. The sound echoed around the cavern, and all fighting ceased.

You clung harder to your little pillar. ‘I’m about to die, aren’t I?’

“HEY! WHITE SPIDER!” She screeched and pointed the tip of her weapon at you. (That wasn’t a spear.. What was it? An ax? No..) “GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE!”

‘Oh, hell nah. I’m staying here, thank you very much.’

“DON’T MAKE ME COME UP THERE, YOU FUCKER!”

You cowered and skittered back up the pillar. ‘Why is she so scary?! She looks so nice! It should be illegal!’

[Answer; the Golden Clan are warriors who abide by-]

‘I know why she’s so aggressive, it’s just that her looks are completely throwing me off!’ You huddle in a nook high up the pillar. You could hear the queen seething down below and snuggled deeper within the hidey-hole.

“DON’T YOU-! OH, FUCK YOU! YOU BETTER COME DOWN HERE BEFORE I COUNT TO THREE, DAMMIT! ONE!”

Can she even get up here? You have a suspicion that she can in fact get up to you.

“TWO!”

..On second thought, maybe it’s not wise to piss off a warrior queen.. Especially when she has an army of children right below you..

“THREE! ALRIGHT, YOU ASKED FOR IT, BITCH!” And silence. And more silence. 

..Huh. Maybe she wasn’t coming-

“MOTHERFUCKER GET OUT HERE!” Oh shit, there she is! The queen grabbed ahold of your foreleg before dragging you out of your hidey-hole. You screeched and squirmed in her hold, trying desperately to wriggle your way out of her grip, but surprisingly she was strong. (You hated it.)

“Oh, come on,” She huffed as she glared down at you, holding you up with just one hand. If you could cry, you would be doing so right about now, “Even those weak fucks down there can put up a better fight than that. Where’s your fighting spirit?!”

You glanced down and shrieked even louder. She was floating?? Queen Spiders can do that??

[Notice; all Queen Spiders have the {Skill; Thread Manipulation}. They can use strings to manipulate objects, including people.]

‘S-So, this is just her being held up by strings?’ A glint caught your eye, and you peered closer to see a mass of thin strings just under the queen’s feet. ‘O-Oh. Fun. W-What’ll happen if she drops me? Will I go splat, or..?’

Silence. ‘C-Chiron? Hello?’

Still silence. ‘Dammit, Chiron! Don’t leave me here to die!’

“Alright, you tiny little maggot,” The queen glowered at you, “You’re coming with me. Don’t even think about running!”

‘I’d rather not go anywhere with you-!’

And then she carted you off to...somewhere. <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

The caverns were quiet when she forced you out of the hatching cave. Not a single other spider was in sight - well, besides her guard spiders. They looked similar to the Arch Knight but smaller. Does that mean they were of a different rank or something?

[Answer; they are Knight Spiders. They are the highest evolution male spiders can achieve while female spiders can achieve the evolution rank Arch Knight. Due to this, they are primarily male spiders.]

Ah. Okay. You trill softly as you skitter along nervously by the Queen’s heels. ‘This is starting to sound more and more like an RPG mixed with regular nature. Back home, male spiders were normally smaller than females.’ At this, you paused. ‘Hey, does that mean that Arch Knight is technically my mother?’

[Answer; Arch Knights and Queen Spiders are the only ones capable of reproducing. Arch Knights are also in charge of child-rearing. They do this through a nest rotation.]

‘So, that’s a maybe. Got it.’

“Damn, you are one stubborn bitch, aren’t you?” The Yellow Queen huffed as she crossed her arms over her armored chest. You angrily clicked your chelicerae at her. ‘Don’t insult me when I can’t insult you back!’ She smirked, pausing to drop into a squat beside you. You flinched back as she examined you. “There you go! Now that’s the kind of fire befitting of the Golden Clan! You really did come from one of my offspring, huh?”

Then she popped back up and continued to stroll leisurely with her weapon laid across her shoulders. “Anyways. We should hurry it up; the caverns will be crawling with my kin soon, and we don’t wanna keep Blackie waiting! She’s a certain type of angry that scares even me!”

‘If this Blackie person scares this monster of a girl, then how strong is she?!’ You quivered. Suddenly, you really don’t want to continue following her..

“HEY!” You flinched at the fierce glare she sent over her shoulder. “HURRY IT UP, HALF-PINT! WE DON’T HAVE ALL DAY!” You skittered after her with a small shriek. Seemingly satisfied, she turned back around and hummed. “You know, despite how annoying you are, I kinda can’t wait to see what you’ll accomplish!”

You hissed, and she laughed at your obvious indignation. ‘How rude! I’m not annoying!’ The Queen turned around and walked backward, sending a feral grin at you. Your hissing cut off and you shrank back from her.

The spider-girl heaved a heavy sigh and grumbled. “Now I’m starting to wonder how you ever came from my clan. You’re feisty, but you’re so-so-so... timid! It’s mind-boggling.” 

Huffing, you stomped after her. ‘She’s so rude..’

“So, might as well get this out of the way now!” She exclaims, turning the corner. You glance down the other way. Nothing but more tunnels. How are you ever going to navigate this place?! “Welcome to the Colony. The land of the Jorogomos! There are currently four clans watching over it - ah, fuck!”

You jumped at her sudden shout and she turned to glare down at you. “You’ll end up making us fuck with the maps! We just got everything established, why’d you come now of all times?!”

(You had no idea what she was blabbering about, nor do you want to know. ‘She’s so scary..’)

“Anyways, four clans were watching over it. We’ll need to adjust some things, again. Dammit.” Why the hell was she glaring at you?! You didn’t do anything but hatch! “We Golden Spiders are in the far west. Our job is to keep that fucking Church in line.” Church? What church? Is it like the Catholic church? “The Obsidian Clan is found in the southwest, our closest neighbors. The Rubies are in the southeast. And then the Bronze fuckers are all the way to the northeast. Don’t know how the hell they haven’t been caught yet by the surface dwellers..”

You glanced around you as your little group trudged through the tunnels. ‘Surface dwellers, rock tunnels.. Are we seriously underground?! Ugh, I hate that! I wanna be outside!’

“But,” The Queen continued, “Keeping the Church out isn’t all we Golden Spiders do. The full picture is to protect the Colony from all threats. Obsidians are the info-gatherers and strategists, Bronze are the architectures and archivists, and Rubies are healers and farmers.” Do you have to sit through this? Chiron already explained all this to you.. “Your clan will be in charge of something else once it grows. Who knows what it’ll be; I for one thought we had all we needed. Apparently not.”

‘Right.. Each clan has a different ability..’ You look away from the Queen. ‘So, what’s mine?’

[Notice; I cannot give you that answer.]

If you could sigh, you would be doing so. ‘So this is something I need to find out for myself.. Yay.. Cue the stereotypical inspiring speech from an elder or something-’

“Hey, what’s taking so long?!” The Yellow Queen snapped at you. “Don’t make come over there! We’re already behind schedule!”

You squealed and ran after her. ‘So scary!’ <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

It was an hour or two after you had left the care of the Golden Clan, and boredom was numbing your mind. Your two escorts were eerily quiet and you still haven’t figured out how to use that Thought Communication ability.

‘Hey, Chiron? What’s the evolution tree look like for Jorogomos?’

[Answer; Small Lesser Taratect, Lesser Taratect, Medium Taratect, Greater Taratect, Knight Spider, then Arch Knight. The Small Lesser Taratect stage is the shortest one.]

You looked up at the Knights before you. ‘How do I evolve then?’

[Answer; monsters normally evolve when taking in enough magicules. Most monsters are unable to evolve without the process of Naming, but some species can do so by consuming other beings with enough magicules.]

‘I’m assuming the Jorogomos is one of these few?’

[Answer; correct.]

Nodding, you tune back into reality. ‘I see.’

The earth was vibrating a little.

A thought hit you and you almost gasped. ‘Hey Chiron, did the Gold Queen have bigger eyes than normal humans?’

[Answer; correct.]

‘Her mouth was also looking a bit weird.. Huh. This is a prime example of the uncanny valley, and yet I’m not disturbed by it. That’s so weird.. Is it because I became a spider?’

Rumbling cut into your thoughts and you perked up. ‘What’s that?’ Your little group of three marched onwards, toward whatever was making that rumbling noise. Soon, you started to see other Knight Spiders crawling along the tunnel walls. You stared up at them as you moved along.

And then you came upon a problem.

Turns out giant spiders are kinda bad at keeping track of tiny spiders like you. Maybe that’s why you weren’t allowed to leave the hatching cave before the Queen kidnapped you.

(..Spidernapped? Oh well.)

Nothing had prepared you for the absolute chaos that was the intersections in this underground society.

‘Can I get through this mob?’ You thought to yourself as you stared out at the moving crowds of spiders much, much bigger than yourself. You flinched each time a sharp leg stepped too close to your body. Spiders moved every which way; up, down, sideways, forwards, and backward. It was hard to keep up with all the legs scrambling everywhere. ‘Is this where I die a second time?’ 

Chiron was suspiciously quiet. You couldn’t help but shrink in on yourself. Even the one thing meant to help you doesn’t believe in you..that stings..

‘Oh well. If I die, I die. I already dealt with dying once, I can do it again!’

And with that, you scrambled after who you thought were your escorts. 

You jumped through gaps between the legs and scuttled under giant bodies as quickly as you could move. Turns out smaller spiders are actually really fucking fast. You ended up scaring yourself on more than one occasion with your speed.

‘God, I hate this. Where’re my escorts?!’

You thought you spotted them turning onto a side tunnel and scurried after them. ‘Wait for me!’ <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

Turns out you didn’t see them go this way.

It was a couple of hours after what you have decided to deem the “Intersection Nightmare” when you stopped.

Your escorts were nowhere in sight, and you’re pretty sure you stopped seeing other spiders about an hour ago. Chiron was unhelpful in locating the giant Knights, and all the tunnels looked the same. So you supposed it was time to face the music. 

Falling to your stomach, you grunted. You’re completely and irrevocably lost. Maybe you should have known better than to think you’d be fine navigating a maze when you’ve never done so before.. Guess you’re still a little bit human, huh? That’s comforting to know.

‘Chiron, I’m lost, aren’t I?’

[Notice; the probability of being lost is 99%. Suggestion; find a safe place and wait it out.]

‘That’s a good idea, but...’

A grumbling sound rumbled from your stomach, and you whined. ‘How long will finding me take?! There were at least a hundred different tunnels back there and I can still see so many down here! And I’m hungry!’

[Notice; there are around a thousand individual tunnels in the Black Spider section of the Colony.]

You stick a claw in the air and glare up at the ceiling. ‘That just proves my point! They’ll take forever to find me! God, where even am I?’

[Answer; you are in an abandoned section of the Obsidian Spider section of the Colony.]

‘Oh?’ You perked up and rolled onto your back. ‘Why was it abandoned?’

[Answer; humans sealed the Storm Dragon, Veldora, 300 years ago in this section of the caves. The Obsidian Spiders abandoned it to avoid detection by the humans. It is now known as the Sealed Cave.]

‘Huh.’

An echoing screech from down the tunnels caught your attention, and you worriedly got to your feet. ‘Hey, uh, Chiron? Is there anything else that lives in the Sealed Cave?’

[Answer; yes. It is home to several different monsters.]

‘And what exactly are they?’

[Answer; not including Obsidian Spiders, there are Monstrous Centipedes, Giant Bats, Black Serpents, and Armorsauruses.]

You skittered back as the screeching got louder. ‘And..how big are they?’

[Answer; bigger than you.]

‘That’s so descriptive, Chiron, thanks.’ You huffed.

[Answer; you’re welcome.]

...If Chiron was an actual tangible being, you would have tried to strangle it. (It’s a really good thing that it isn’t, otherwise, you would have probably died in the near future.)

��So, what’s coming my way? And can I beat it?’

[Answer; a horde of Giant Bats. There is a high probability of your death if you face them as you are now. Suggestion; run and hide.]

You took one moment to settle your nerves before turning down a random tunnel and booking it. ‘Run and hide. Right. Tiny legs, don’t fail me now!’ <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

Growwwl.

‘God, I’m hungry..’ You whined as you sluggishly made your way down another tunnel. You had managed to outrun the Giant Bats and were now looking for a place to lie low for a bit. ‘Ugh, what I wouldn’t give for a nice, juicy steak right about now... Hey, Chiron? How long has it been since I got lost?’

[Answer; 7 hours.]

Your legs almost buckled underneath you, but you somehow managed to keep your footing. ‘..And how long has it been since I last ate?’

[Answer; 15 hours. Notice; energy levels are low. Suggestion; eat.]

And then your legs fell out from under you once more. You groaned. ‘But what am I supposed to eat if there’s nothing here?!’

[Notice; there is a nest of Monstrous Centipede hatchlings nearby. Suggestion; eat.]

You paused. ‘You want me to eat a giant bug? Something that was considered a pest and not to eat back home?’

Chiron was completely silent at this, and you let out a sigh before getting to your feet. ‘Fine, fine. I’ll go eat the baby monster bugs. How far-?’

[Would you like to use the {Skill; Spider’s Sense}?]

You tilted your head. ‘I have a skill? And it’s called Spider’s Sense?’

[Answer; correct. It provides a mental map of sorts of a certain radius in an area. Use the {Skill; Spider’s Sense}?]

Sighing, you shrugged. ‘If it’s gonna help me find that nest, then go for it.’

Suddenly, you could feel everything. You flinched ‘What the.. Is this-?’ 

Every movement, every crack or crevice in the walls around you, even the tiniest particles in the air were suddenly just - there! It was like you were that one character from Demon Slayer! It was so cool! (It was also a bit overwhelming..)

You snapped out of your awe at another painful grumble of your stomach and skittered down a tunnel and then up the wall. It led you to a spacious cavern, not unlike the ones you saw back in the Colony.

In the center of the cavern was a pit. Crawling closer, you could see a mass of long, wriggling centipedes crawling about. The closest one was about five meters long. 

‘Holy shit. And these are babies?! They’re bigger than me!’

[Notice; Monstrous Centipedes have the {Skill; Paralyzing Breath}. Suggestion; tread lightly.]

You shivered. ‘Duly noted. Thanks. Question; do they have more than one brain or heart?’

[Answer; no.]

Your forelegs, which were already sharp claws, glinted in the light when you readied them. ‘Good to know. Thanks!’

And then you drove a claw through the head of one centipede nearby. <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

[Notice; evolution requirements met. You are now evolving into a Lesser Taratect. Congratulations. Suggestion; find a safe place.]

You jumped at the sudden notification, dropping the half-eaten bug on the rocky ground. ‘Wh-Wha?! Evolution?! Already?!’

It was only a day after you had become lost. You were still working on a little home nearby. Would it be safe enough-? You shook yourself and double-timed it. ‘It’ll have to be! Chiron, what’ll happen during evolution?!’

You spotted your new hidey-hole nearby.

[Answer; you will automatically fall into slumber. Notice; evolution will commence soon.]

‘Shit! That means I’ll be vulnerable! Hold on, I’m almost there!’

You ended up tripping and rolling into your hole. Slamming into the walls, you groaned.

[Notice; evolution will now commence.]

The world was engulfed in black as your stomach rolled with nausea. 

[Congratulations on your evolution to Lesser Taratect. Notice; you have gained new skills.]

notes: and this is the first chapter of this fic! hope you enjoyed! stay safe, and please remember that you're all AWESOME! XP

[raya-hunter01]

Not My Sister's Keeper Pt. 3

Roman X OC(Kara)

Jey Uso X OC (Tia)

Rating: 18+

Warning: Smut; sex, fluff, couple arguing, Jealousy, infidelity, pregnancy

Roamn’s wife recently left medical school and returned home to save her marriage. Upon her return, she finds out things are not what they seem. Her sister is pregnant by her best friend Jey Uso, who is also Roman’s cousin, and her husband is acting suspicious.

What happens when a conversation overhead on a baby monitor blows her world apart?

Kara's Parent's Guest House

Kara's POV

“What the hell do you mean your water broke!” I exclaimed as Tia screamed in pain.

Is this really happening, she’s in labor.

Switching to auto pilot I helped Tia over to the couch to lay down .

“Are ya’ll alright down here I saw Jey leaving and he looked upset?” my dad asked pausing at the door.

“She’s in labor, call an ambulance,” I said as my dad called 911.

“Where is mom? I need her,” Tia moaned as dad held her hand.

“She had to go get your brother, his flight just got in,” dad said as I tried to time Tia’s contractions.

“Another one is coming!” Tia screamed as I frowned. That was too close to be having contractions.

“How long have you been hurting?” Dad asked as Tia grunted through another contraction.

“Since this morning but I wanted to have my baby shower, it wasn’t as intense earlier.” She moaned shook my head.

“You always do stuff that don’t make sense! Ugh,just breath and lay back until the ambulance comes,” I said trying to put aside my differences for the moment.

Logan being born safely was all I cared about at that moment.

“I feel like I need to push!” she cried as I reached down to check her and felt the top of the baby’s head.

This bitch really done sat here in labor all fuckin’ day….

“My daughter said she feels like she has to push, should she do it?” my dad asked putting the phone on speaker.

“Dad the baby’s coming I can feel the top of her head,” I said, totally overwhelmed as Tia screamed in pain.

This had to be some cruel joke…I’m really about to deliver Roman’s baby…His baby with my sister…

“Ok, looks like this baby ain’t waiting, I’m going to need you to get some towels, scissors and something to tie around the umbilical cord. There is a traffic jam, and we are about thirty minutes out,” the operator said my heart began to race.

“This isn’t happening right now,” I whispered trying to help Tia get comfortable as dad gathered the needed items.

“I’m so sorry Kara,” Tia cried as I tried to keep my emotions bottled up but couldn’t stop my tears.

“Look, Logan needs your help. You gotta push with all you got,” I whispered  trying to keep my mind on what was important right now.

“Here is the stuff,” dad said placing the items beside me as we waited for nature to take its course.

“When the baby comes out, I need someone to tie that string about a half an inch up before you cut the umbilical.  Now when another contraction hits, I need mama to push as hard as she can,” the operator said as we all listened intently to her not wanting to miss anything.

“Here it comes. Ahhh!” Tia screamed pushing with all her might as my niece’s head eased into my hands.

“Oh, I got her head, it’s out!” I cried. “Come on and push Tia!” I shouted, as she screamed pushing once again.

“It’s burning! Get her out! Please, get her out!” she yelled and with one final push, my niece made her entrance into the world, but there was no noise….. No crying.

“She’s out,” my dad cried to the operator as I tied off the cord as instructed and cut the umbilical cord in a hurry.

“Why isn’t she crying?” Tia whimpered as I tried not to panic.

“Come on Logan…… Breath baby,” I whispered trying to clear her airway, gently rubbing her back but she wasn’t moving.

“Kara, what’s happening!” My dad yelled as I began CPR.

“It’s my karma for everything I’ve done!” Tia cried as I tuned her out. This was about Logan right now, not her fucking guilt.

“Breathe, Logan. Come on, breathe for Tee Tee,” I begged blowing air into her tiny mouth.

“Ya’ll please hurry the baby’s not beathing,” my dad pleaded as I took two fingers and began compressions counting in my head.

“Logan, mommy loves you. Please……. Just breathe.”

Once again, I blew some air into her tiny lungs. The powerful cry that spilled from her lips, lifted my heart as she wailed, her little face scrunched up as her tiny hands moving against my face.

“That’s it baby girl, breathe,” I cried, wrapping her up in the blanket, before placing her on Tia’s chest.

“My baby…… My Logan,” Tia cried as a momentarily wave of relief washed over me, Logan was ok.

“Ambulance is almost here, you did so good baby,” my dad said as I nodded moving away from my sister and niece.

I felt the walls closing in as I observed her with the baby. That was my dream, and she took it from me.

“Kara, look at her,” Tia whispered as they did skin to skin.

“I see her, she’s beautiful” I whispered as my dad kneeled beside her.

Her tiny face, a mirror image of her daddy’s baby picture that proudly hung up in our home.

I turned away as the EMT’s came in, wiping my tears. I needed to leave, and in a hurry, this was too much.

 I turned back around to watch the EMT’s check over my niece. I had to be sure before I left.

“Baby’s vitals are good, and lungs are clear. Now we need to check mom, can someone take the baby for a few minutes,” one of the EMT’s asked as Tia looked at me.

“Take her Kara, she needs her auntie,” she whispered as I shook my head in shock and disbelief.

“Was she serious? She really was trying to manipulate me to hold the baby….

“I can’t and you know why Tia…..” I whispered as she wiped her tears.

“We can put this behind us, please….. Kara, just hold her, please…Just look at her, she needs you in her life,” Tia pleaded as I sick to my stomach at her weak attempt to manipulate me.

I couldn’t do it, I would never be able to look at that tiny little face and not see my husband and my sister’s betrayal.

“She doesn’t need me….She needs her dad, and I hope you allow Roman a chance to be that,” I said looking at my niece.

“Roman?” What are you talkin’ about sweetheart?” my dad asked as I smiled sadly at him.

“I’m sure when everything settles, they will explain it, I just can’t right now.” I whispered, giving him a hug. I was done with it all. I then leaned over and kissed my niece gently on the forehead.

“I love you Logan, always remember that,” I whispered as she opened her eyes and looked directly at me.

“Kara, I’m so sorry,” Tia cried as ignored her and left.

Walking back to my car I felt numb, and I knew nothing would ever be the same again.

----

Roman’s & Kara’s Home

Roman’s POV

“Where the fuck is she?” I muttered pacing the living room. I hadn’t heard from Kara in hours and now I couldn’t get Tia either.

Had Kara heard us on the baby monitor?…God, I hoped not, I wanted to tell her for myself.

“You really fucked everything up, all you had to do was kick her out of your room that night,” I whispered to myself pouring me a shot of brandy.

11 Months ago

“You said you understood Roman and that we would make time for each other,” Kara said as I felt the tension between us building.

“I do, I just didn’t think it would be this hard to be without you,” I said peering through the door at Tia getting into the bottom bunk.

She had come to me after her match and said her ride had left early and asked could she ride with me to the next city.

I saw no harm in it, so I told her sure. I didn’t tell Kara though; I knew they fell in and out too much and I didn’t want to cause no argument.

“Are you still coming to spend the week with me next week?” Kara asked as I smiled.

“Yea, I’m taking the jet after my last house show. Maybe you can show be around up there,” I said as she smiled brightly at me.

“I would love to,” she said with a yawn.

“A’ight I kept you up long enough, go to bed and dream about me,” I said as she blushed.

“I always do, love you,” she whispered as I smiled. “Same here beautiful, and I love you more. Call me after you get outta class in the morning,” I said as we said our goodbyes.

Turning off the light, I went to bed but sometime later I felt the other side of the bed dip beside me.  Startled, I turned over and there lying next to me was Tia…..Naked.

“What you doin’ in here Tia?” I asked as she straddled my waist, a strangled moan escaped my lips as her bare pussy rubbed against my dick.

“Giving you what you’ve been missing,” she moaned slowly moving against me as I groaned stilling her hips.

“Don’t do that, you know I’m with Kara.”

“She isn’t here, and I know you need it Roman. I won’t tell, I promise,” she whispered her face mere inches from mine, my heart racing as I saw for the first time how much she really did favor Kara.

“We can’t,” I moaned as she slowly stroked my dick.

“Yes, we can,” she moaned against my lips, placing my dick at her entrance slowly takin it until I was buried to the hilt.

“Fuck, we can’t,” I hissed as she began to bounce slowly with a smirk. “Then stop me,” she moaned, as my eyes closed in pleasure as she bounced.

Giving in, I gripped her hips meeting her thrusts as she screamed.

“Mmm, yes! That’s what I wanted,” she moaned as I willed my eyes open to look at her as she bounced on my dick with a purpose.

“Kara! Fuck!” I moaned as Tia smirked. “Oh…..So, you want me to be Kara, huh?” she asked.

“Tia, this is a mistake, we gotta stop,” I rasped, sitting up as she kissed me again.

“It’s ok….I promise…I’ll be Kara for you…I’ll be whatever you need me to be Roman.” she moaned and in that moment there was no turning back.

And that was the first encounter….On my bus, fantasizing she was Kara as we had sex.

“I’m so fuckin’ stupid,” I growled truly regretting my choices. Picking up my phone, I called Kara with it once again, no answer.

“Kara where you at baby?”

Kara’s POV

With a heavy heart I stared at the home Roman, and I’ve shared as husband and wife for five years. The bus where a lot of his infidelity took place, parked beside the garage made my stomach turn.

Anger radiating off of me, I reached into my bag and pulled out the knife I had brought with me earlier to cut Tia’s cake.

“I decorated this fuckin bus and I picked out this motherfucka,” I quietly hissed to myself, stabbing the tires one by one, leaving one untouched.  “Had her slutty ass up in here,” I muttered, failing to reel in my emotions, I was too hurt but I knew I needed to calm down.

“Get it together Kara, calm down and just see if he’s going to tell you,” I muttered giving myself a pep talk.

 I put the knife back in my bag, laying it down beside the bus before I went around to the side door. As I went into the kitchen, I spotted him pacing in the living room sipping on a glass of Brandy.

 “Nasty son of a bitch,” I muttered, taking a deep breath before I made my way into the living room.

“Kara, I was worried baby, where you been?” Roman asked sitting down his drink as I cleared my throat, walking a little closer to him.

“Um, I was at my parents, then Tia stopped by with Jey,” I said staring a hole through him as was oblivious.

“Oh….Well, you could have returned my calls or texts baby, I thought something had happened. I’m glad you were at your folks though,” he said nervously as I gave him a small smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes.

“I was busy….Tia went into labor, Roman,” I said watching his facial expressions. He looked excited then cleared his throat stopping himself.

This asshole, how could I have been so fuckin’ dumb?”

“Uh, did everything go ok?” he asked, trying to be indifferent as I nodded.

“Well, Tia had a trying afternoon. The ambulance didn’t make it in time, so I had to deliver the baby, but they’re both fine,” I said casually as Roman seemed shocked but happy.

“You….You delivered the baby? That is crazy,” he said as I nodded in agreement.

“Yea, it was crazy..Damn near like I was in the twilight zone,” I said studying his body language, knowing at any moment I was going to fucking snap.

“Wow that’s great, little Logan is here,” he whispered, a small smile etched on his face before he slipped back into his stoic expression.

“Yes, she’s here, so congratulations Roman…..You and my sister have a beautiful, healthy baby girl,” I said calmy as his looked at me as if I had shot him in the heart.

The disbelief on his face as he processed the fact that I knew his secret was something I will never forget.

Taking a deep breath and exhaling, he bent down placing his hands on his knees, he looked sick honestly.

“What’s wrong Roman? You look like you can’t breathe.”

“Kara”

“What you gotta say?…Kara, what!?” I yelled trying to keep my tears at bay, backing away as he reached for me.

 “W- Who told you? Was it Tia?” Roman asked as I chuckled at the gall of him.

“You both told me actually,” I said, his eyes widening in realization.

“The bab-……You heard us on the baby monitor.” He stammered, his eyes full of unshed tears.

“Yea, imagine my surprise to find out my husband is not only sleeping with my sister but got her pregnant. Damn, we’re a fucked-up Steve Wilkos episode waiting to happen,” I said, my voice full of sarcasm.

Honestly, it was that or being a hysterical mess, but I was well on my way to losing my shit.

“I’m so sorry Kara, I didn’t mean for this to happen.  Please, believe me baby,” Roman pleaded as I felt my heart breaking even more.

“You’re sorry you got caught! Like who are you?!” I cried as he lowered his head in shame.

“Just tell me what I can do to make it right please?” Roman pleaded as I looked at him in disbelief as he sank to his knees pulling me to him, burying his head against my stomach, his arms holding me tight.

“Let me go Roman,” I whimpered trying to unlock his arms from around my waist as he held me tighter.

“No baby, I can’t let you go…Just tell me what you need, I’ll do anything. What do you need me to do?” Roman begged as tears fell from his eyes.

“What do I need you to do?” I sobbed, prying his hands from around my waist.

“Yes, what do you need?…..Please, Just tell me what can I do to help us get through this, I love you.” Roman pleaded holding my hands in his, still on his knees, his remorseful gaze, pulling at my heartstrings but there was no coming back from this…Ever.

“Well, I’ll tell you, Roman…I’ll tell you what you can do for me,” I said as he waited with bated breath, his eyes pleading for forgiveness.

“You can go straight to hell,” I said calmy, snatching my hands away, leaving him in the living room, my mind on autopilot.

“Kara…Kara! Don’t do this,” I heard him plead as I walked into our bedroom ripping the comforter off the bed.

“I don’t want you here!” I shouted as Roman stood at the doorway looking almost scared to come in our bedroom…As he fucking should be.

“Kara, calm down.” Ignoring him, I ripped the fitted sheet off the bed laying it out on the floor. I wanted…No, needed him out of here before I did something I will regret.

“Let’s just talk please, I never meant to hurt you.”

“What is the point? It ain’t nothing else to talk about, you had a baby with my sister!” I exclaimed, grabbing some of his clothes out of the closet, throwing them on top of the sheet.

“I know I fucked up bad, but this can’t be it,” Roman said as I grabbed a couple pair of his shoes throwing them on top of his clothes.

“All these fuckin’ shoes, what you trying to do, start a shoes company? If you put this much effort into this marriage as you do shit like this, we wouldn’t be here now!” I ranted as Roman grabbed my hands.

“I do care about us! I know I hurt you baby, and I know how much you love me-” Roman started as I snatched away, slapping the fuck outta him.

“I obviously don’t know you Roman!” I cried, moving around the room throwing what I could of his on top of the sheet.

“You do know me, I’m your husband!  You didn’t do anything wrong baby, I fucked up-” Roman said, his words stopping me in my tracks.

“You don’t think I did anything wrong? Really…Really….Marrying a selfish asshole and believing in him, when he obviously didn’t deserve it!” I shouted.

“Baby-”

“Putting off my MEDICAL SCHOOL plans for you!” I cried, really pissed thinking about the sacrifices I made for our marriage.

“Aye, I didn’t make you leave school in Boston,” he said pissing me off even more.

“Nah, you right you…I did that because you made it seem like it was an inconvenience for our marriage, and I wanted to be with my husband and save my marriage.

“I wanted that too!” Roman shouted as I scoffed. “No, you didn’t because you were too busy fucking my sister. That’s why you could never come see me in Boston,” I said as Roman rubbed his temples in frustration.

“Kara, It only happened a couple times and I am so sorry, if I could take it ba-”

“It should have never happened! I screamed, slapping him again, causing him to stagger as he Rubbed the side of his face.

“Just let me explain, please, I love you,” he whispered taking me in his arms, grasping my chin, trying to get me to look at him.

“I DON’T BELIEVE YOU!!.............And I never will again,” I whimpered, snatching away from Roman.

“You don’t mean that Kara.”

Ignoring him, I tied the ends of the sheets together, making a makeshift suitcase, throwing it over my shoulder, and walked out of our bedroom. “Kara, don't do anything rash," Roman said as I made my way through the house, the makeshift suitcase thrown over my shoulder, only stopping to pick up his bottle of Brandy, and lighter before storming out the house.

The look of shock on his face as he saw the flattened tires on the bus was almost comical.

“Too late, I already did,” I said pointing at the flat tires as he sighed.

“Look, I don’t care about the tires, Let’s just go back in the house. I just wanna make sure you’re ok and then I’ll leave Kara.”

“Oh…You wanna make sure I’m ok? Well……Let’s see, in the course of a damn day I’ve lost my sister who wasn’t much of a sister to begin with anyway, my husband and my pride,” I said as Roman stepped closer to me.

“Baby, you ain’t lost your sister or me.”

“Don’t!……Don’t patronize me!" I yelled, throwing his clothes in the middle of the driveway, and dousing them with the bottle of Brandy, before going back over to my bag, pulling out a can of spray paint.

“What you doin’ wit that Kara?” Roman asked as I scoffed at him.

“I helped design this fuckin’ bus, and you out here fuckin’ dat bitch in it! You got me fucked up!” I yelled spray-painting the words “Adulterer" and "cheater” across the side.

“You takin’ it too far, Kara! First the tires, and now this!” Roman yelled finally snapping, grabbing the can from me as I pushed him away.

“Oh, I ain’t took it far enough, Roman," I said reaching in my pocket, igniting his clothes and shoes on fire with his own lighter.

“Got Damn it, now that’s it!..Let’s go in the house before somebody calls the police!” Roman yelled, trying to carry me back in the house as I fought against him.

“Put me down! Put me down Roman, I hate you!” I screamed as he continued to carry me towards the house.

“Will you calm the fuck down!”

Jey’s POV

“Uce, what you gon do?” Jimmy asked as we drove towards roman’s house.

“I want some answers,” I said as my twin brother tried to talk me in to going back to his house.

“I just think you need to calm down first. I don’t need you doing anything that you may regret.”

“They played me, Uce…Like really planned all dat shit,” I said in disbelief as Jimmy turned off the highway.

“I don’t see Roman doing that. I think he just got caught up in not wanting to lose Kara, so he kept quiet,” Jimmy said as I rolled my eyes.

“He still shoulda’ told me what was up. I been at doctor appointments, ultrasounds, getting attached to a baby that ain’t even mine!” I hissed.

“I know that, but can we just go over there tomorrow. I know Kara and Roman have a lot to talk about.”

“She ain’t deserve this, big Uce didn’t have to do her like dat,” I said remembering the pain in her eyes as she confronted Tia.

“Have you tried calling her?” Jimmy asked as I shook my head. “Another reason I wanna check on her, I need to lay eyes on her and make sure she good,” I said as Jimmy sighed in defeat.

“A’ight you know I’m wit you. Just don’t do nothing that could send our asses to jail,” Jimmy warned.

“I’ll try but I ain’t making no promises…..Plus, who would call the cops he ain’t got no neighbors for miles.” I said noticing smoke as we neared their house.

“What the hell?..... Is that them?!”Jimmy yelled as I jumped outta the car before he could put it in park, running toward Roman who had a struggling Kara in his arms.

“Aye, let her go!” I yelled, grabbing Roman and making him release Kara in the process as he turned to face me. All I saw was red, and swung connecting with his Jaw.

 I saw Jimmy out the corner of my eye reach for Kara, moving her out of the way as I tackled Roman to the ground punching him over and over in the face.

“Fight back!” I yelled releasing my frustration as Roman hit me with an uppercut pushin’ me off of him as I stood up and kicked him in the ribs.

“Get yo’ ass up!  I ain’t done!”

“I ain’t tryin’ to fight you, Uce!” Roman yelled as I kicked him one last time before Jimmy grabbed me.

“That’s enough, Uce, let him up,” Jimmy said as Roman coughed struggling to get up, wiping the blood from his mouth.

Kara’s POV

Good, somebody beat his ass….He deserved  it.

“I never mean for this shit to happen,” roman said as Jey struggled against Jimmy.

“Why didn’t you tell me? You let her play me!” Jey hissed as Roman looked at me.

“What you lookin’ at me for, you had that shit coming.”

“I didn’t know how to tell ya’ll and I didn’t want to lose you, Kara,” Roman whispered as I turned to walk away, not wanting to even look at him anymore.

“Oh, so now you just gon’ walk away after calling Jey over here to attack me,” Roman accused as I stilled in my steps.

“Kara, ain’t called me, I came to check on her,” Jey said as Roman laughed.

“Of course you did, you just ready to make a move on her,” Roman said as I heard Jey snarl.

“Nah, that’s some shit you would do…I mean you did fuck her sister, didn’t you?” Jey said as I winced at his words.

“I said I was sorry, and ya’ll won’t even give me a chance to explain. Between you attackin’ me, Kara destroying and  burnin’ my sh-”

“You deserved it and you should be happy that’s all I did!….. But does me doing that really hurt you, Roman?” I asked walking back towards him.

“Kara-”

“The bus…..Your clothes …. Your shoes….It’s just stuff, Roman……Stuff that you replace or fix with the snap of your fingers, whenever you feel like it.” I said sadly truly trying to get him to understand the damage he has casued.

“Just look at her, Uce. Give her some space,” Jimmy said as Roman sighed in defeat.

“Fine, I’ll leave for now…. But I’m not letting you go Kara,” Roman said as I turned and walked back into the house, not saying another word.

Roman’s POV

I’ll never forget the look on her face …I didn’t know her anymore and I caused the hurt and change in her. Looking at the bus and torched clothes, I knew I deserved it.

Thankfully, Jimmy was attempting to put out the fire with the hose as I looked at Jey.

“Damn, she torched dat shit,” Jimmy said continuing to douse the fire with the water as Jey looked me up and down before heading toward the house.

“Where the fuck you goin’?” I asked, more angry with myself, than Jey. The thought of him comforting her, knowing deep down how he really feels about her has me on edge.

He didn’t respond to my question; he only shook his head continuing to walk towards my house.

“Don’t get too comfortable Jey…… Kara’s still my wife and I ain’t letting her go without a fight.” I warned as Jey scoffed, still refusing to turn around and look at me.

“Shouldn’t you be at the hospital taking care of your new family?” Jey said walking in the house and slamming the door.

“You good to drive, Uce?” Jimmy asked as I nodded.

 “Yea, I’m going to see my daughter, and then I’ll be back.” I said making my intentions very clear.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Kara needs some space,” Jimmy said as looked at the bus.

“Oh, I’mma give her all the space she needs…. I’m gon' just crash on the bus until we go back on the road. I'll call the company tomorrow to get everything fixed," I said as Jimmy sighed.

“Uce, I don't think staying on the bus is a good idea…Just grab a room or go to your folks.”

“I can’t uce, this is my home and my wife is in there…….I ain’t going nowhere, this is where I belong,” I said getting in my truck.

“A’ight, you just ain’t gon’ rest until she light dat damn bus on fire wit yo dumbass in it.”

“It’s just a chance I gotta take….. I can’t lose her.”

She’ll forgive me… I have to believe that, we’ve been through too much.

Jey’s POV

As soon as I went in the house I saw  Kara sitting on the couch in a daze. The look of hurt adorning her beautiful face made me want to go back out there and whoop his ass again.

Hearing Roman speed out the driveway, I  went to sit beside her.

“He’s gone,” I whispered as she nodded wiping away her tears as I sighed pulling close as she sobbed.

Damn him for doing this to her…. I could take it; I had no emotional ties really to Tia…. only the baby and I didn’t even have that anymore.

“I was outta control…I don’t know what came over me,” Kara whispered as I sighed.  

“Your hurt and you have a right to be.”

“I thought I could, but I can’t stay here,” Kara said as I nodded in understanding looking at all their pictures on the wall.

“Kayla, you ain’t got to stay here…. Come home with me,” I offered as we sat in silence for a few minutes, no words spoken as I waited with bated breath for her answer.

 “I’ll go with you,” she whispered finally as I sighed in relief, pulling her closer, kissing her gently on the forehead.

The fallout from Roman and Tia’s betrayal was just getting started and I knew it was about to get ugly, but Kara wasn’t going to have to go through this alone…

I’m here and I don’t give a damn who doesn’t like it.

One thing I knew for sure, Tia was gon' have to see Kara and Roman was gon' have to see me...

Taglist:

@reci24 @southerngirl41 @vebner37 @jeyusos-girl

@melaninsugababy @romanreignkisser @bebesobrielo

@arination99 @2-muchsauce @bakugoumarianawrites

@empressdede @alyyaanna @christinabae @anonandwannakeepitthatway @venusesworld @jeyusosgirl  @theninthwonder @mya2real  @justazzi @whatdoeseverybodywant @reignsboy19 wooahmiri alichesmi pytbgeezy @ superpietom 

@truefant4sy @yana3sworld amandairene88 unapologeticqueen94 empressdede xbriexx @harmshake

tshepisho thatgirlest98 zdotspinalot mainthingdoja jimingotthajams rose-bliss mrswolffs-blog maeb99 jstarr86 sayyestoheav3nn digidestned @kriissy4gov

[formula-nyoom]

Hello hello hope you are swell 🩵 I see you do platonic drivers 👀👀

Could it be possible to request a platonic! Reader who is a younger sister (that is also a driver, any team) to a driver of your choice who is given either a drink or meal before going on the race and getting a severe allergic reaction. Like rushed to the hospital asap reaction please 🥺

A/N: The only thing I’m allergic to is bullshit(and mosquitoes), so I don’t know what it’s like to have an allergic reaction to food. Hopefully I wrote this ok but do let me know if there are things I need to change. I decided to keep this as a blurb only because it's so similar to the last oneshot I wrote and I went with Oscar for this one

~~~

“Shouldn’t they be back by now with our drink bottles refilled?” Your teammate asked as you looked over some data. The race was set to start in just under an hour and the matter your teammate was more concerned about is the assistant that had gone to refill both your drink bottles rather than look over data with you.

 “They only left a minute ago. I know you’re used to everything going fast but they’re not a race car.”

 “Well they better be back soon with my energy drink. I have to drink one before every race. Helps with my performance.” Your teammate said. You just rolled your eyes. 

The assistant soon came back with both your drink bottles refilled. You thanked them and took it. As you were about to take a swig, your phone vibrated with a text from your brother, Oscar. 

Papaya-Bro: Chit chat before the race?

More often than not, you and Oscar would find each other in your respective drivers rooms to talk before the race. It was a small amount of time where the two of you would talk about anything but racing, giving the two of you a sense of peace before you had to face the chaos of Formula One. You sent him a text that you were on your way over and made your way to the McLaren garage. Some of the McLaren workers waved at you as you walked in, having gotten used to you making appearances in the garage to see your brother.

“Mom wants to know what she should cook for dinner when we come back home.” Oscar said, looking down at his phone while sitting in a chair.

“I’ve been craving her meatloaf for the past couple days. Ask her if she'll make that.” You said, taking a sip from your drink bottle. Your face scrunched up in disgust as you tasted something that wasn’t water on your tongue. You ended up swallowing whatever it was you just drank as your first reflex was to gag at the taste of whatever you consumed. It was sour, with a hint of fruitiness. 

 “What’s wrong?” Oscar asked.

“This isn’t water.” You said, handing him your drink bottle. “Taste this for me.”

You gagged again and then started to cough as Oscar took a swig of the mysterious drink.

 “Yea, that’s not water.” He said. “It’s got a–”

“--fruity taste.” You started to cough more violently while trying to gasp for breath. Your throat felt like it was closing in on itself as you struggled to breath.

Oscar didn’t have time to figure out exactly what the drink was. He was able to guess what was in it though as he witnessed you starting to have a severe allergic reaction to whatever the mysterious drink was.

 “I need medical assistance!” He called out into the hallway, hoping anyone heard him. Oscar quickly opened the front pocket of his backpack that always carried the spare epipen and grabbed it. By now you had gotten down to the floor, still struggling to breathe. Kneeling down in front of you, Oscar steadied the orange tip over your outer thigh, before having it make contact with the fabric of your race suit. He pushed the auto inject button till he heard the click. He then looked down at his watch to watch the seconds go by.

 “One…two…three…”Oscar then removed the epipen and checked to see if it went in. But to his horror, there was no puncture hole from the needle. Of course race suits that were designed to keep a driver safe from getting burned or injured in a crash can prevent a needle from going through the fabric. 

 “I NEED SERIOUS MEDICAL ASSISTANCE!” Oscar yelled again. This time someone seemed to have heard him as a McLaren worker came in with a medic right behind them.

“She’s having an allergic reaction! The epi pen didn’t puncture through the race suit!”

The medic took out a pair of scissors and an epi pen before they started quickly cutting the pant leg of your race suit and fire proofs. Once the material was cut away enough to reveal the skin of your upper thigh, the medic didn’t hesitate in administering the epipen, which successfully went through this time. Oscar helped steady the pen while the medic put an oxygen mask over your face to help you breathe while the medicine worked its way through your system. 

Eventually you were able to breathe again and your throat no longer felt like it was closing up. But you and Oscar both knew that you couldn’t just hop in the car and race. You’d have to be taken to the hospital to make sure whatever allegens you had consumed were fully out of your system. Oscar made sure one of the McLaren personnel went over to your team garage to inform your team that you had an allergic reaction and could no longer race today, before he helped you up off the floor and handed you off to the medical staff.

 “Kick their asses for me.” You said to Oscar before leaving, your voice raspy from coughing. 

“Will do.” He promised.

~~~

Oscar was a bit rattled throughout the race because of what had taken place just before it. That wasn’t the first time he had to administer an epipen for you, he’s seen you have allergic reactions before. But the fact that it didn’t work the first time is what really freaked him out. But knowing that you were ok and breathing was enough for him to score P3. And the fact that he beat your teammate seemed to make you happy so Oscar took that as a win.

“Because I saved your life today, can you let me freely pass you during the next race and defend me from the people behind?” Oscar asked as he drove you home from the hospital. 

 “You didn’t save my life. The medical staff did.” You said, playing with the medical band around your wrist.

“I attempted to! If our race suits weren’t made so tough to protect us from crashes, you wouldn’t have needed to be rushed here.”

 “That’s kinda a big flaw with the race suits. They can protect us from fiery crashes but prevent someone from administering an epi pen.” You noted.

 “I’ll talk with the FIA tomorrow to propose new safety regulations so race suits have to be made so a giant needle can break through the fabric. I’m sure that will go over well with the other drivers.” Oscar joked. Your phone buzzed and you looked down to see a text from yours and Oscar’s manager.

 “Mark just texted me. Apparently the energy drinks my teammate has before every race are now banned from the garage. Turns out it’s got lychee in it.” You told your brother.

 “Honestly they should have been banned from the start to prevent what happened today.” Oscar said. You nodded in agreement.

 “So you’re not going to let me pass during the next race?” Oscar asked. You rolled your eyes.

“Only if you defend me from my teammate if they end up behind you. Which is often.”

[quinny19]

Title: "RIVALS (Part 3)" Rivals-to-lovers. hawks x reader

: "Not a Date."

It started with a mission debrief. It ended with you and Hawks stuck on the roof of the Hero Commission building under a broken auto-lock system.

“I’m blaming you,” he said, arms crossed behind his head, lying flat on the warm rooftop tiles like it was a beach day.

“You’re the one who slammed the door on the way up,” you shot back, wings folded neatly behind you, resisting the urge to kick his shin.

He peeked open one eye, smirking. “Please. We both know if I slammed it, the building would’ve collapsed under my raw power.”

You scoffed. “Raw ego, more like.”

Despite the snark, it was quiet up here. Peaceful, almost. You rarely got time like this. No press, no villains, no team briefings. Just sky and tension and that constant flutter you refused to acknowledge in your chest every time he smirked like that.

His feathers twitched. “You ever think about what you’d be doing if you weren’t a hero?”

You turned your head toward him slowly. “What kind of deep-question-romcom nonsense are you on right now?”

“I’m serious.”

You hesitated. “...Sleeping. A lot. Avoiding people. Probably working in a pet store.”

He laughed. “That tracks. You’d scare the pets with your Resting I-Hate-Everyone Face.”

“And you’d be what? A male model for feather conditioners?”

“You joke,” he said, raising a brow, “but they offered. Twice.”

Silence lingered. Your wings twitched slightly.

“Do you ever get tired?” he asked. “Of proving yourself?”

That question dug deeper than you liked. You looked away. “Only when I’m not flying.”

He was quiet for once. When you glanced back, he wasn’t smiling. Just… watching you. Like he actually saw you.

You swallowed. “You ever get tired of pretending not to care?”

His jaw ticked. “Every damn day.”

And just like that, the teasing was gone—for one fragile second—and it was just you and him and everything unspoken in the space between.

Then the door behind you clanged open, and Mirko’s voice echoed:

“Aww, look at the lovebirds!”

You both immediately jumped apart like kids caught kissing behind the gym.

“We are NOT—!” you both shouted at the same time.

“Right, right,” she said, grinning, “you’re just screaming at each other with eye contact and sexual tension. Classic ‘we hate each other’ energy.”

You glared at Hawks. He glared at you.

“Let’s never talk about this,” you muttered.

“Agreed.”

: "Married Energy."

At the next pro-hero gathering, you and Hawks ended up assigned the same table. Again.

“I swear,” you muttered, “they do this on purpose.”

“Maybe because we’re such a joy to be around,” Hawks deadpanned, sipping his drink.

Across the table, Best Jeanist leaned in slightly. “You two bicker like an old married couple.”

Mirko nodded. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were already engaged.”

You nearly choked on your water. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve seen less tension during hostage negotiations,” Mt. Lady added.

“Wow,” Hawks said. “Suddenly I feel like the sane one.”

“Oh, that’s new,” you said dryly. “Write it in the history books.”

Endeavor, nearby, just groaned. “Can you both keep it down for one night?”

“No promises, Old Man,” Hawks replied with a wink.

: "Normal Life. Sort Of."

Your off days weren’t as peaceful as you’d like—especially when Hawks randomly dropped by your apartment, uninvited.

“You left your comms on ‘Do Not Disturb,’” he said, breezing in with fried chicken like he owned the place.

“That was the point,” you said, grabbing the box from him. “This is mine now.”

“You’re welcome, Feather Thief.”

He flopped on your couch, wings flared wide, knocking over one of your plants.

You gave him a long look. “This is why I can’t have nice things.”

“Correction: you can, but then I show up.”

Despite yourself, you laughed. Later, when you both sat in comfortable silence watching a dumb cooking show, your wings brushed against his by accident.

Neither of you moved.

He turned his head just slightly, eyes half-lidded. “You do that on purpose?”

“Do what?” you asked innocently, voice quieter now.

“Use those wings to flirt.”

You arched a brow. “Is it working?”

He gave you a sly grin. “Dangerously.”

: "Sparring. Kind Of."

At the next training session with Class 1-A observing, you and Hawks were asked to do a mock spar.

The second the whistle blew, you both went for the sky, circling like predators.

“Place your bets!” Denki whispered. “My money’s on the scary angel lady!”

“Stop calling her that,” Bakugo growled.

The fight was fierce. Feathers vs. light. Speed vs. technique. At one point, you pinned him midair with all six of your wings, eyes gleaming.

“You surrender?”

Hawks was panting slightly, grinning. “You got me right where you want me.”

You blinked. Realized how close your faces were. How your leg was hooked around his. How warm his chest was under your hand.

You did have him. And the look in his eyes told you he was fully aware.

Silence stretched. Then a voice from below:

“Just kiss already!”

You both immediately sprang apart, red-faced.

: "Falling, Flying, Feeling."

That night, as you flew home alone, you thought about everything.

About the fights. The flirting. The way his eyes softened when you weren’t looking. The way your heart beat faster around him—not from rivalry. From something more dangerous.

You landed on your balcony to find him already waiting.

“I beat you home,” he said, feathers ruffling.

“You beat me to losing your mind,” you shot back.

A pause.

“I like flying with you,” he said quietly. “Even when we’re fighting.”

Your breath caught.

“I like... a lot of things about you,” he added, eyes not leaving yours.

The air was charged. Hot. Still.

“I still hate you,” you said, stepping closer.

“I know,” he murmured, stepping closer too. “It’s mutual.”

And then—almost—your lips barely brushed—

Until your phone buzzed loudly between you.

You both froze.

“…We are never going to get through one romantic moment, are we?” you muttered.

“Apparently not,” Hawks sighed.

But the look in his eyes said it wouldn’t be the last time you tried.

Not even close.

: Media Mayhem

It started with one photo.

You and Hawks had just wrapped up a chaotic joint mission downtown. A villain with explosive tech had gone rogue, and your wings had been grazed mid-flight. He caught you in a split second, cradling you mid-air with one hand on your waist, the other deflecting falling rubble with a sharp flick of his crimson feathers. Your faces were close—too close—and someone just had to capture it.

The next morning? Your phone wouldn’t stop vibrating.

Trending Topic #3: "HawkAngel Power Couple?" Trending Topic #5: "Are Two Pro Heroes Secretly Dating?" Trending Topic #6: "Wings of Love: Who's Cuddling Mid-Battle?"

You almost dropped your coffee.

Across town, Hawks sent you a screenshot with the caption: "Should we pose like that more often? Great lighting."

You fired back: "I’m going to pluck your feathers one by one."

Then came the phone call from the Hero Commission. You expected a briefing or debrief. Instead:

“We’re thinking of leaning into it.”

You blinked. “Leaning into what?”

“The couple rumors. Public perception is strong. It’s good for morale, trust, hero relatability... all that.”

Your heart sank. “You want us to... what? Pretend to date?”

“Exactly that. Nothing official, just some coordinated appearances. Social media engagement, maybe a feature in Hero Weekly...”

“Absolutely not.”

Cut to: You and Hawks, side by side at a charity event two days later.

He winked at the cameras. You smiled so tightly your jaw ached.

“Don’t look so grumpy, dove,” Hawks whispered through clenched teeth. “You’re gonna give the kids a bad impression.”

“You’re going to give me an aneurysm,” you muttered back.

But then he casually slung an arm around your shoulders, leaning in with a whisper just audible enough to set off every photographer: “Smile for the fake couple album.”

Flashbulbs went off like lightning.

You were trapped.

: Act Natural (Failing)

The interviews began.

You were seated together on a couch, mics clipped to your collars. Hawks’ posture was relaxed, his wings behind him like a throne. You sat stiffly, arms crossed, visibly done with the entire performance.

Interviewer: “So, how did the two of you meet?”

You: “On a rooftop. He nearly crashed into me.”

Hawks: “Love at first dive.”

You: “I almost threw him off the building.”

Hawks: “Romance is complicated.”

Interviewer: “And the rumors about you moving in together?”

You: “We don’t even like each other.”

Hawks: “We tolerate each other... very intimately.”

Your eye twitched. He was enjoying this far too much.

When the cameras turned off, you shoved his shoulder. “You’re insufferable.”

He smirked. “You’re glowing with rage. It suits you.”

You stormed off while he laughed behind you.

: U.A. Disaster Class

You were invited to a training exercise with Class 1-A. It was supposed to be professional. Tactical.

Then Hawks crashed the session—literally. Through the skylight. With takeout in hand.

“Brought you lunch, sweetheart,” he called.

Denki gasped. “Did he just say sweetheart?!”

Bakugo nearly combusted. “Why is birdbrain here?!”

Mina squealed. “Are they... like... a thing??”

Todoroki tilted his head. “Is that normal behavior?”

You snatched the takeout and hissed, “It’s for PR. Fake. Not real. No feelings.”

Kirishima grinned. “Right. Totally fake. That’s why you’re blushing.”

“I’M NOT—”

“She totally is,” Denki whispered.

Even Aizawa looked mildly amused. “Just don’t break any windows next time.”

: Domestic (Kinda) Life

It wasn’t unusual anymore for Hawks to crash at your apartment after patrol.

You stopped asking. He’d just toss his boots by the door, grab your spare blanket, and collapse on the couch. One night, you caught him rummaging in your kitchen, shirtless, hair tousled, cooking midnight eggs.

“Do you live here now?” you groaned.

“Only in your heart,” he replied.

You stared, unimpressed. “You’re shirtless in my kitchen. This is domestic horror.”

He flipped the eggs. “Protein is essential for hero stamina.”

“If you say one more word about stamina...”

“Oh?” He turned, towel slung around his neck. “Did I hit a nerve?”

The air grew weirdly warm.

You stepped back. He stepped forward.

“You keep looking at me like that, dove,” he murmured, “and I might think this fake thing isn’t so fake anymore.”

You stared, unsure if your next move was slap or kiss.

Then—your stomach growled.

The moment popped like a soap bubble.

He burst out laughing. You groaned.

“Shut up and give me eggs.”

“With pleasure, babe.”

: Storm Cabin Confessions

A mission in the mountains went sideways. Bad weather, slippery terrain, and sabotage grounded you both. Injured and soaked, you found shelter in a remote cabin.

Inside, the wind howled. You trembled, soaked to the bone.

Hawks peeled off his soaked jacket and reached for you. “You’re freezing. Come here.”

“I’m fine,” you lied.

“Your wings are shivering.”

“They do that.”

“You’re the worst fake girlfriend.”

“You’re the worst fake boyfriend.”

He sighed, then pulled you in anyway.

You resisted. For two seconds.

Then melted into his warmth. The fire crackled. His breath warmed your ear.

“I like this,” he said quietly.

You didn’t answer. Your face was buried in his neck.

“Hey,” he said after a moment. “If I kissed you, would you hate me?”

The question hit harder than expected.

You tilted your head. Looked into his eyes.

And said, very softly: “...Try it and find out.”

He leaned in slowly—then the cabin door slammed open from the wind.

You both jumped.

“Never mind,” you muttered. “The storm cockblocked us.”

“Unforgivable,” he agreed, laughing.

: Something Real (Maybe)

Back in the city, the media pounced on the story of the "Storm Cabin Incident." One blurry photo of you wrapped in Hawks' jacket sent the internet into meltdown.

Best Jeanist sent you a framed copy.

“For your future wedding,” he said solemnly.

Mirko howled. “Just kiss already! You bicker like old people.”

Even Endeavor muttered, “I don’t get paid enough for this.”

But that night, after the teasing, Hawks found you on a rooftop.

“Hey,” he said. “Look... jokes aside. If this ever stops being fake for you... I wouldn’t hate that.”

You stared at him.

He stared back.

And slowly, you smiled.

“Then let’s really mess with them.”

You leapt into the sky.

He followed.

And maybe—just maybe—your wings weren’t flaring against each other in anger anymore.

TO BE CONTINUED?

Part 1 : Rivals

part 2 : Rivals

Part 4

[falafels]

hello will you please spare me any Gordon family crumbs you have 🤲

ADLER OMG HII!! CRUMBS OK LET ME SCOUR THE NOTES APP

-Jeremy Gordon is still trying to put off his Fiona Gallagher scale crashout and it’s mostly working. The fox he’d get on with best is Renee, and they have a brief conversation at Seth’s graduation before Nicky comes over to ask him how many times Seth was dropped as a baby. (seven, twelve if you count the time Jeremy and Marcus (and Ricky a bit but he was only 2) decided to play catch with him out in the yard. very aerodynamic baby is on Seth’s CV)

-Tabitha Gordon big time sufferer of older sister-younger brother disease where they would scrap fairly routinely until around the time seth was 12 and she went to put him in a chokehold for taking her jacket and he just launched her across the room into the dresser. and he looked down at his hands like he didn’t realise he could do that now either and got all smug like Ohohoho. No more banging my head on the wall or twisting my arm behind my back so you can do makeup on me (that one hadn’t happened for a few years at that point but he didn’t want it to happen again) or pelting me with old bullet casings found down by the creek. No no. There’s a neeeeew sheriff in town. alp holding his hand out in front of him like hes gonna repel her with The Force. and Tabby blinks for a moment. and he thinks this is it. and instead she gets back up and seamlessly transitions from physical abuse into verbal abuse.

-They all used to hang out (not usually with each other, each of them thought this was their super cool secret spot they would go to with their loser friends at one point or another) down at the creek. Scotty likes to go down there to “look at nature”, Jessie went down there to appreciate the gifts of nature and get stoned out of her mind, Seth liked to just fuck about in the water, Ricky and Jamie both called it “free time off work creek” because both of them separately chose to drink from it and got sick, Marcus used to meet his dealer there, Tabitha would get drunk with people from high school, Michael would go there to read (sometimes while Seth was fucking about in the water), and Jeremy would climb the tree that rose over the water and sit in it just to be alone for a moment. also to smoke

-Seth wasn’t actually the first of his sibling to overdose, but he didn’t know this for several years until Marcus mentioned it while they were throwing tyres and sorting shit down at Ricky’s auto body shop. because Marcus is a complete asshole, it’s entirely throwaway and at Tabby’s expense, some shit about “yeah new boyfriend let’s see if this one beats her to death or if she nearly beats him to it again lol” or something equally horrendous and Seth is like hold up what do you mean by that and Marcus explains that when Tabitha was about 16 she got really dangerously into injectables because of the guy she was dating and the group she hung out with and one day overdosed in a park with them and the guy just panicked and dropped her off in the front yard where Jeremy found her and took her to the hospital. and Marcus finishes telling Seth this story and immediately offers him loose pills he found at work

-Scotty is the most likely sibling to lose in a fight, not for being the youngest but for more or less growing up in a slightly different world because most of his siblings had learned a shred of emotional maturity by that point. Michael is the least violent by nature but would still absolutely wreck anyone’s shit if they picked the fight but wouldn’t swing first or second. He doesn’t like to fight but he’s still a Gordon so he knows how to throw a punch and take a hit

-Ricky has been really getting into telenovelas. His boss’s wife insists on having her soaps play on the shitty old tv down at the shop and Ricky and the other guys bitch about it but are actually fairly invested and Ricky’s also picked up some Spanish from it. his on-again off-again girlfriend Rita calls him gay for it (the telenovela not the Spanish) but Ricky insists he’s not gay because, quote, “he doesn’t even use deodorant”

-Jessie Gordon is almost entirely fearless, with the three exceptions being pregnant women, being sucked through a time warp back to medieval times and trying to explain electricity but not actually knowing how it works, and velvet leggings

-Jeremy is the best with a rifle and thought about joining the army as a sniper but didn’t have any interest in the culture and kind of wanted to start over with something different. Jamie is also a decent shot but tends to post up in trees to shoot pigeons or shit that Ricky and Seth throw up in the air and then gets stuck in the tree. Nobody is particularly actively pro-guns but it’s always just been part of life in Birmingham, which Seth doesn’t quite realise until he gets to Palmetto. Specifically after meeting New Yorker Matt Boyd, who always looks vaguely horrified when Seth mentions shooting hay bales for fun or the guys from his high school with assault rifles slung over their shoulders in prom pictures. Matt Boyd, who comes in to the dorm one day yelling that some crazy guy is outside with a gun and Seth sticks his head out the window to have a look and tells Matt that’s a Springfield 67C and it’s so dogshit the only way the guy’s doing any damage with it is if he beats them with the barrel, then tells the guy as much out of the window

-Jamie Jessie and Seth all have matching scars from trying to pierce their ears. Jamie’s got infected as fuck, likely not helped by Ricky pouring Tabitha’s premixed can of passion fruit martini all over it (logic being that alcohol would clean it out- sure, but fruit juice isn’t too good for it), and Jessie’s closed over so she re-pierced it but missed a bunch of times so now she has multiple earlobe piercings and wears little stars in all of them. Seth’s just bled a lot. Like a lot a lot. But he mentioned getting painkillers from the doctor and Jessie looked at him like he’d shot her, so for her sake he firmed it and for a good few months there he thought he was clean for good.

that’s all i’ve found for loose scraps of Gordon lore for now but i’m sure there’ll be more at some point