#I think the main reason I never got around to finishing it— aside from losing focus— is that I was worried abt how the gaps would look on

[mobbothetrue]

yooo please finish that giratina fic that concept fucking rules

I slightly misremembered in that Giratina also can’t use any pronouns. Anyway you’re right I should totally finish this

[lxmelle]

Geto was loved even in death.

Wouldn’t it be nice if he were judged by his intentions in the afterlife - wherever that was? He had suffered living with the love he had. We see through the eyes of those left behind, that the ill deeds didn’t define him, as strange as that may be to us as readers in the real human world we live in. Geto’s influence and loving nature were far reaching; Gege certainly made him so treasured by many even after his death. If Gojo was touched by his caring influence, this was also Geto’s will he passed onto his students.

NOT spoiler-free as I’ll be referring to the recent chapter, 255.

I wrote this the other day:

And honestly it’s long enough; here’s part 2.

Is it obvious I’m suffering from brainrot? All my drafts from jjk brainrot are rivalling my thesis/dissertation from way back (lol)

Here is more under the cut:

I’m really moved by the reasons for why Miguel and Larue have decided to join in the risky fight against Sukuna.

It’s very obvious that Miguel is reluctant at first. He says he he’d rather terrible curses arrive at his shores than to fight with Sukuna, adding that he doesn’t see himself having any ties with Japan any longer.

We can deduce that this was part of Gojo’s plan for the possibility that he dies/loses, and I had a post about this saved in my drafts - but I guess I never got around to finishing it. Basically, in sum, he will achieve giving Geto a cremation (avenging him) and gets to show off to his students (which he does enjoy) by going all out (soo satisfying), and in the worst case scenario, he loses but gets to go all out, weakens Sukuna (for the rest to handle), and idk if he really is that romantic (so it’s really stsg headcanon fantasising) he will die on the same day as Geto.

The Opening theme is rather beautiful in that it interprets Gojo having the words, “we’ll meet again” stuck in his throat, which he doesn’t say. But I’m a bit weird and tend to separate anime from manga. But it’s worth noting that here.

I digress. Back to Miguel and Larue who have moved to speak privately without Yuta.

In a previous post I wondered aloud about what Yuta knew about Geto from others aside from being villainous and I guess this implies he doesn’t know much, since he wasn’t close to Miguel enough to sit around to chat with them. It makes sense.

Miguel and Larue both agree they followed Geto in jjk 0 because they wanted to see him become King. What does this even mean, really? Gege, you’re missing stuff out again!

Nevertheless, we understand how reluctant Miguel was. He enquires that Larue intends to do, clarifying: is it for revenge or to take Geto’s body back?

And it seems like their main motivation for putting their lives on the line... is to honour Geto’s memory. Like a traditional ritual one makes for the dead (customary in Japan on death anniversaries - not limited to the year, but also number of days).

It’s incredibly moving how much they love him. This is actually what led Miguel to reconsider. We see him go silent as he thinks “...” before he reaches a moment of clarity/a decision.

Tbh I have issues with interpreting his statement in between the two panels (re: hell) in Japanese - it doesn’t directly indicate if he is referring to the former part of the conversation (whether he thinks Geto is in hell), or the latter (he thinks the battle will be hell). The phrasing goes like this: “no matter how I think about it: it’s hell.” - I’m not a native speaker so it’s difficult for me to be certain which is right. But the consensus is as translated above. Larue thinks Geto is in heaven, Miguel thinks it’s hell, and we see the airport scene where presumably Haibara and Riko with Kuroi have been there for over a decade. lol. Who knows!

So the bottom line is… regardless of where they think Geto ends up in the afterlife, Miguel is willing to give Geto a send off that’ll even reach hell. Or, despite it going to be hellish, he will do it. It also seems so heartwarming how they still emphasise family and friendship in wanting to fight together - perhaps things we can surmise had meant something to Geto.

They will fight Sukuna because it is for Geto. Geto was so loved that they would risk themselves - not for a title, not for revenge, but out of … love. Again. That’s pretty damn loving. Can we imagine what Geto did and was to them, for them to experience such loyalty and reverence?

Sadly, it goes without saying that Geto’s body being used as a vessel and puppet by Kenjaku has possibly evoked an emotional response by those who cared for him - namely Mimiko and Nanako, and also Gojo. Arguably, even if it were a death without his body being hijacked, Gojo did refuse to cremate his body or have it processed “by the book” of jjk high through Shoko. If that’s not out of a form of love (or “consideration” as Kenjaku put it), I don’t know what is.

The twins went against what Geto wanted for them (to carry out his will) to fight against immensely power beings in hopes they could bring him home. Those were their reasons to fight. Gojo scheduled 24th December - this was after he teleported to Kenjaku immediately upon unsealing so he could bury Geto. We saw Larue and Miguel’s. Toshihisa is alleged to be quite weak, and despite potentially being considered a son to Geto (if his life situation did mimic that of the twins’ - source: jjk character book), he opts to follow the inherited will as prescribed by Geto.

It’s all love. Geto was loved, I’m telling you. I want to shout if off the rooftops because that man just looked so darned sad and deranged after he lost it.

So. Continuing where I left off: Everyone thus far has had a reason to go into battle with Sukuna. I wonder what / who will actually reach him? I hope it’s Yuji ... and that Megumi will react again at some point. They have their own themes relating to love and purpose. I’ll leave them to someone else more familiar with their characters to write about!

And now I’m going offside quite a bit, but it’s still of relevance to Geto and the theme of love that seems to surround him. Way back to jjk 0 and Hidden inventory.

I wanted to just bring this into the picture as well now that I’m already writing a post on that topic, but please feel free to stop if you’re bored now.

So. Jjk 0!

There were direct parallels with Yuta & Rika and Gojo & Geto. This was also confirmed by the director when discussing their vision for the movie. The light novel also drew a link between Geto and Yuta where they were described as being too sincere for this world.

There is a direct theme of love - the type, is open to interpretation.

Kenjaku also makes reference to this in the Shibuya arc. So to me, it remains relevant. Love in its many forms is somewhere in what Gege wishes to convey thematically.

Within jjk 0, Geto seemed to pursue power but this was also a symbolism where power = love. It is twisted. In light of recent events, we know that the pursuit of power leads to the dilution and even absence of love. Love that gives birth to power becomes cursed. So it seems.

As we know, Yuta bound his lover to himself to gain power.

If only he had Rika (metaphor for love: Gojo) he probably wouldn’t have had to skulk around the shadows consuming curses which he hated doing. Geto was lamenting on the past in the above panels. He probably was determined to carry on, as he vouched to give it all he got (Haibara’s last words to him echoing here).

A flashback to the past:

Geto doesn’t do things in half-measures. To avoid hypocrisy, and I headcanon that it was a merciful killing to protect them from him, he kills his parents. To die by his hands than to be used as a pawn to get to him. For them to see the horrors their son could be capable of. It is so very wrong, and we can see the twisted nature of his love in this interpretation.

And Gojo delivers the ultimate blow that leads to Geto reflecting - depicted by the mysterious ellipses “…..” (gege really likes the reader to work hard huh) - insinuating it is impossible for Geto, so don’t even bother trying. The blossoming possibility of discourse was nipped, as the strength differential was implied - you’re the strongest now, whereas it used to be “we”. There was no more place for Geto; it was probably a misunderstanding. Gojo was protecting everyone in his own way, and the only way he knew how.

For power, Gojo was a source - but Geto couldn’t do that in Shinjuku, nor earlier in the arc, when Gojo himself was on the brink of insanity and deferred to Geto about annihilating humans as he held Riko’s dead body. Geto in the scene above acknowledges their different paths they needed to take - Gojo had a place as part of the elite at the school - Geto was already facing an execution order.

And after hearing Gojo’s condescending tone in an emotionally-fuelled attempt to reach out to him. He turns away to protect his friend from himself, and himself from his friend. Anyway, I touched on this in my previous post. Geto feels they had fought and didn’t deserve a place next to Gojo. But deep inside, even his body remembers the sound of Gojo’s voice, reacting to it when called despite his soul no longer being there.

sigh. Moving on... back to jjk 0:

After witnessing the bonds through willingness to sacrifice and the love between these students, Geto was really moved. Gojo trusted Geto retained his sense of humanity / love / idealism - even if it would lead to him sacrificing himself.

He was finding it difficult anyway:

He could always empathise with love. I suspect he tried his best, but the binding vow for Yuta’s life was also just the cherry on top to make Rika super saiyan.

Kenjaku knew Geto probably could’ve won though, had he been more selfish.

Geto conceded without a fight with Gojo. Maybe it was a matter of trust in that they both knew his living on borrowed time. As the light novel insinuated, this was the only way it could ever end. And Gojo would have to carry the curse that was Geto. This seems... so cruel.

He did his best. He perhaps always wanted the love but set it free.

He did so many things for others in spite of himself, in sacrificing himself, in staining himself with blood drenched hands.

Avenging Riko by killing Sonoda. Note how manipulative “humans” are by using Jujutsu rules against them.

He embraces a life of smoke and daggers. Living in lies and half truths in order to live, survive, and find justice in a wicked world.

Watch me closely, I’ll protect you, I’ll avenge you, this is how you protect yourself.

This is the path I’ve chosen.

I’m not saying he was right or justifiable. His character is just tragic. The system had set him and others to fail.

The worm foreshadows Geto’s maternal nature. Calling him “okaasan”. I mean, this very worm had a binding vow with Toji. And now it calls for a new owner? I’m not sure if Gege had anything else in mind with this... is the womb protrusion domain Geto’s? But that’s tied to a sorcerer’s soul…. Anyway, I digress again. (Sorry). Geto did have a martyr complex and was written captivatingly well by Gege. The extra touches where how he has been perceived by others and the effect he has (and continues to have) on those we see.

And I just want to leave this heartbreaking thing here:

Source from twitter/now X:

Wouldn’t it be so sweet for Geto to get one (love declaration) at the end of his life, regardless of the way you perceive Gojo and Geto’s relationship?

Wouldn’t it be nice for him if he could know that his family who he instructed to flee had all loved him, adored him, and would honour his sacrifice in differing ways...

Instead, a form of love meant his body was desecrated and used by Kenjaku. His girls were killed, and his full potential was not quite realised at all.

If only things were different.

Gojo should have kept him in his basement!

But at least, I think, Gege is giving Geto some love even after his death.

For that I’m thankful.

And thanks for reading if you made it this far with my rambling!

If you want something more light hearted I have a fluffy fic up on AO3 (it isn’t great but i enjoyed writing it to fantasise about what happens at the airport) and if you want more angst and pain, please browse my tags (lol).

[yellowvixen]

If Sol-equivalent Unleashed events were to happen, would Blaze become a werecat, being werewolf-like like Sonic, or would she become something else, like, for example, a vampire or a mercat (mermaid-like)?

Ooh interesting question!! The main draw of the werehog to me is the fear of losing control and no longer being yourself. We know Sonic never does lose control, that the change is only physical but the fear is still there. Especially as he's now suddenly in a big cumbersome body that can't go fast or do what he's used to—is he still Sonic if he can't run fast?

So that could be directly translated into Blaze being a werecat, I've seen a lot of cool designs for that before. BUT. The other ideas you've mentioned are very cool and I want to explore them! Also I don't think being specifically a werecat would affect Blaze mentally the same way being a werehog effects Sonic, so I'd want to find a change that does.

This got kinda long so I'm putting my explorations of the different ideas under the cut gjgjdhdg

First off: vampire Blaze! From the outside, physically not much would change. Blaze is a cat after all, she's already got sharp teeth! But inwardly, Blaze would no longer have her fire powers and would be a lot colder, and ofc have weird urges. If this is a similar case to Dark Gaia or whatever the Sol equivalent is, possibly her vampiric nature would lead to her wanting to consume others' energy rather than blood lol. So the fear of losing control would definitely still be there! What if she hurts someone that way! However it does lead to the question of is she being changed too much? Sonic was virtually unchanged aside from his looks, but giving Blaze vampiric urges is changing how she acts. So, not my first choice for a Blaze Unleashed scenario! Sick idea for another au though.

Second: mercat Blaze! Love love love this idea!! Confining her to water means again she can no longer use her fire powers, and it links in nicely with the Sol dimension being more ocean based than Sonic's world. It gives rise to the implication that the Dark Gaia (or whatever) creatures are all sea monsters too! I do wonder what would happen if Blaze is on land when the sun sets, does she just flop around? Maybe it works differently, and instead of it being tied to the day night cycle it can be tied to her proximity to water. But then she could just stay away from water... Unless for plot reasons all the sol emeralds are underwater or smth sjffdg. However! I think the fear factor would be gone. Mermaids aren't exactly beastly (of course you can change up the design, but it's more obviously just a physical change) so it would be more of just a minor set back for Blaze, she wouldn't have any fear of losing her identity. The opposite problem of vampire Blaze!

SO. I have an idea that I think merges all the good bits—ghost Blaze! Design wise, she would look similar to a mercat where her bottom half is like a tail, like Lah, Su and Uh! Possibly she would properly leave her body at night and float off while she's sleeping. Without her body she'd once again have no fire power and potentially be invisible to those around her, so that fear of losing herself would definitely be apparent! Maybe Marine (and others) are able to see her after realising what's going on, and can convince Blaze that body or not, she's still the Blaze they know and love. Also, in terms of gameplay I think it might be cool if the day and night levels are actually the same, but during the day you need to use Blaze's fire powers to finish and during the night you need to phase through walls. Essentially making the levels completely different! Her being a ghost kinda keeps in line with the Halloween theme too, and the Dark Gaia monsters can still float about scaring people.

A lot of rambling here hfjgjdhdg but tl;dr I really like the concepts of vampire and mercat Blaze, but I think for an Unleashed scenario specifically I would go for ghost Blaze!

[hedging-my-bets]

Cyberpunk 2077 is a bad game: Electric Boogaloo

Cyberpunk has a problem that could almost be framed as a poignant and interesting limitation meant to point towards an important element of the genre it takes place in, but is almost certainly just a weakness put there due to development issues and poor writing behind the game.

You lose your agency. A lot.

In video games, where generally most of what separates the experience from watching a video is that agency, this is a problem.

Once again, liberal, unmarked spoilers for the game, and brief mention of suicide to boot.

Here's Johnny

Let's get one thing straight, I quite like Keanu Reeves' work for the game. Writing aside, he gives a good performance, his likeness fits the setting perfectly (even though I used the alternate appearance as soon as I realized it was an option) and having him stuck in V's head to pester and support him ties nicely into the main plot.

I still think it's one of these systems that was not quite finished, or thought out, by the time was released, because how much you and him get along are (sort of) one of three "tracked" percentages on your main menu, along with your fame around Night City, and how close the chip in your head is to killing you.

Or something. It's never really explained, and has even less to do with gameplay.

Ostensibly the only one of these that matters is the Johnny stat; your fame/infamy might trip a few switches in missions but doesn't, for example, change how many enemies show up to a fight with you, or make jobs more complicated because there's heat on your head, and the Relic malfunctions are scripted events that happen only during missions with the main cast of characters. You're never going to have a seizure in the middle of a firefight because you've spent too much time dicking around, so the ticking clock aspect isn't there. Maybe at one point the game cared how much time had actually passed in the world, making it a weighty choice to use the option to go to a location ahead of time and wait for the proscribed hour for a job, or even to catch a few hours of sleep.

I focus on Johnny because even though you yourself are in control when he takes over your body (outside of a few cutscenes) you don't get to play your character. You're playing someone else in their body. And that doesn't rub me the wrong way as, say, the constant drugging and kidnapping you experience in Far Cry 5, a game I have boundless wells of hate for after playing it, it does bother me.

Now here is where I admit I've only played through two of the endings. Three, technically, but the one to skip the final mission and end your story on your own terms (with a bullet) doesn't count for a number of reasons. It doesn't even have an achievement, though the cutscene is emotionally powerful and well done and doesn't seem like a tacked on end. It gives the impression that this was, perhaps, something you'd choose if your dwindling health and ability had gotten to the point where you knew you wouldn't even make it through your last run. But without that pressure, there's no good reason for a person who paid for this AAA title to just ignore one of the few impactful sections of content in the game.

The first ending I got focused on taking a deal from Arasaka, the big corporation in town, the one you've made personal enemies of via your actions in the main story, and, because I chose the Corpo background (yet another pathetically pared down swath of content) the place I thought I would have some connections I could leverage. Technically I did; the game did present dialogue choices that were unique to my background during the tense boardroom presentation, but I have a feeling that the other choices might have something of their own to say there, and in any event it wouldn't change the flow of the mission.

I chose that option because I had not unlocked the secret ending, which seems to depend on a specific series of dialogue choices with Johnny Silverhand in a side mission. I'd still maxed out my friendship with him, I'd become a legend in Night City in my own right, but I guess the developers thought that only by saying the right words at the right time, he'd have enough faith in me to let me do my own thing.

Company Man

So, failing that, I took Arasaka's offer, hoping to fulfill Johnny's dream of taking them down from the inside. Unfortunately for me, doing this made him loathe me, it erased all goodwill, because there was no option to turn this deal into some suitably explosive Fuck You to the corporation that had made my life hell probably from the day V started working there.

You're marched into a boardroom to give testimony to the true events of the inciting incident of the game, but, really, you're not needed at all. A copy of the deceased CEO's mind is what really sways the executives. You're just there for flavor, and so that someone capable can kill all the security that shows up to put an end to the meeting. And when you survive, and make it to the man responsible for all this, you're not even allowed to renege on your deal and blow a hole in his skull, as I dearly, dearly wanted to do.

You're shuffled off to space for a long, drawn-out, but again well executed series of barely interactive sequences. They help you, as they said they would; but you're going to die anyway and they refuse to aid with that. Alright. That sucks. That's what I get for not going with the plans that involve an AI's assistance, basically a god in this setting. That's on me. I said fuck you to their offer to upload me to their servers and chose to live what's left of V's life back on earth. Which was going to suck, since everyone I know's last memory of me is getting into a limo with Japanese Business Satan.

In a game that is all about screwing over oppressive and corrupt authorities, it really sucks that this ending exists at all, let alone one you can choose for yourself rather than something you get railroaded into by burning your other bridges.

Why Can't I Just Shoot Him

Now it's important to note that some missions have secret endings only achievable by ignoring the dialogue going on and using violence to some degree. A rampaging set of proto-AIs can be erased or merged into one for one side job, and Johnny makes clear which he'd prefer you to do, but the best thing is to put a bullet in the core and that somehow frees all of them to do whatever the hell they want. How would you know this is an option? Well, most of the times you're in dialogue in situations like this you can't draw your weapon, or you can't shoot the plot-important NPC by mistake. But sometimes this fucks up too.

Another job has you fall for a scam and you wake up naked and stripped of your weapons in a bathroom, ready to be processed by the local organ and cyberware harvesting gang of Scavengers. While, of course, Johnny mocks you.

Again, it's not the player 'falling' for anything. It's stupid to fork over thousands of eurodollars for a braindance you know nothing about. But it's a side job. You don't want to leave money and experience on the table. Presumably, writers and developers put effort into creating some content behind this offer, so as a player you are encourage not to let it pass you by.

This was tense on my first playthrough because even though I was left with my cyberdeck and quickhacks I had very little defense and stat boosts associated with my clothing. Second run was a lot easier; they didn't take my monowire out while I was unconscious. Why not? Well, that would be rude, I guess. You murder your way through some scavengers, get your stuff back, and off a few more for daring to target you.

At the end of that job, you can go back to the man who tricked you, starting the quest, and tell him to leave town. Or you can, with the right dialogue options? I think? Shoot him, like he deserves for what he did to you and countless others. Except if you decide you're letting him leave, he's invincible and can't be killed as he's running away.

Which is strange, because yet another side job lets you rescue a corporate nobody getting beat on by some NCPD officers, get him to pay you as thanks for saving his life, and then blast him for whatever else he has on him. It's within tolerances for those who want to be as cruel as possible in a video game, sure, but that kind of flexibility just isn't present in the rest of the game.

Why be allowed to kill one nobody to eke out some extra cash, but be barred by honor and programming from ending the life of some guy who generally, genuinely ought to die in order to stop him from doing what he's doing over and over? As separate storylines there may be some reasons to justify why one NPC can be killed and not another, but taken as a whole, what is the message being given to the player?

This isn't about "oh well if I want to shoot the shopkeeper and take all the stuff I want for free, I should be able to do that" theory of gameplay. That doesn't have to be supported, but I think a game is more interesting when it is, even if I don't often play that way. But consistency is important.

Does This Count As NTR

The romance system just isn't great and this is really a sidebar that doesn't deserve it's own post, it barely deserves the attention I'm going to give it, but I just want to complain about it.

The options for who you can romance/fuck are sort of even for a male versus female V. Except, not really. There are a couple NPCs who will fool around with any combination of body and voice/pronouns (because those two are what are tied together, it's weird) and the four plot-important, fleshed out NPCs are a mixed bag. Do I think it's weird that Judy will only fall for a female V of voice AND body type? No, it makes sense, but it's weird from, of all things, a balance perspective. No other NPC cares, it's apparently just down to body type for them.

Also the only male gay option is, like, seventy years old. Yeah, he looks good for his age, and he's got the rocker aesthetic going, but c'mon. I wish River was bi, at least. The fakeout response I got going for it after his mission line was amusing, but it still stung a little.

My point in terms of agency is that there's one plot mandated sex scene, in Johnny's memories and his body doing it, and two that can occur while Johnny's in control of your body, and while you can turn down one of the latter, the other is pretty unavoidable. It doesn't gross me out or anything, but it does bug me because, once again, all this stuff is happening in a cutscene, but it's still my character literally under the control of someone else. I can't even say it's the Director, it's the plot moving things along, it's someone else controlling my body.

Maybe one of the writers had a fetish. Maybe a bunch of them did.

The Illusion of Choice

This probably goes into the bucket of "they didn't have time to make it better" but also rubs up against this strangely deep current of cynicism in the writing of this game, and indeed a lot of the tie-in media. Apparently there are a lot of comics put out either released with the special editions of the game and generally printed; I've read a few of them and they all have downer or at best ambiguous endings that basically say "fuck you, nobody wins". And that's okay for NPCs. It's a shitty setting. But for a PC, nah. It's about winning. Or at least trying to.

A lot of the instances I take umbrage with are ones that are most likely writing issues. An NPC is going to die at the end of a storyline, because the writers said so, it's nothing mechanical; you pull the trigger, or someone else does. Sometimes it's the target of someone's long-nursed grudge, sometimes it's because there are missions down the line that wouldn't trigger if they're still alive, whatever. I know Cyberpunk was initially sold as a game where your choices matter, and that label fell away pretty quick as the game neared release, but when a company like CDPR fucks up this bad it bears repeating to the point of absurdity.

Most of the options left to you tend to be spite-driven, or just easy to write and code: turn off a revolutionary gibberish-spouting computer to piss Johnny off, no reward, just a dick move. Again, making him angry locks you out of more content than it opens up, which restricts the way you play your game purely on what you'll get to see if you don't pick the right choices.

You're not here to make Night City a better place, that was never an option, really, and it doesn't have to be one for a game like this. But the core of cyberpunk (the genre) is taking the power made available to you by capitalism and authority (cyberware and other technological advancements) and turning it against them so lessen their influence on the world.

Did Anyone Even Play This

There was a game ages ago called Alpha Protocol. A sort of espionage Mass Effect-like with tone-based dialogue options and skill trees and relationships with NPCs. The great thing about it was that making someone hate you could still have positive effects for you, sometimes even gameplay events in missions that made things easier, you didn't have to suck up to everyone and then have to pick between who you wanted to like you more when faced with a binary choice. If you make someone absolutely hate your guts for being too violent, they can make it easier to sneak past enemies because they're constantly cautioning you to be more subtle. It may not fit with your playstyle, but it's still a mechanical bonus. I'm not sure I've seen any other game do something like this for earning the ire of NPCs or groups of them besides a gain in reputation among their enemies.

In Cyberpunk you can, occasionally, treat someone like shit and they'll still call you for help with the next mission because You Gotta. So the writing is carefully moderated to make sure you can't be too much of a dick. And, you know what, that's fair. If the writers decide they have a floor for how big of a jerk the PC can be, that's their decision. But presenting the player with strangely jerk-centric options that might even reward you greater than being a nice, or even just humane person, muddies those waters.

The Final Fuck You

The other ending I got, on my second run, is the secret ending. As mentioned, you have to choose specific dialogue options with Johnny in a side mission, and generally have a good relationship with him. The internet seems unsure about the specifics but there's definitely a gameplay flag denoting whether you will or will not get the option for this ending.

Which you do by agreeing to Johnny's suggestion that you cede control of your body to him, he brings in his old friends for the final run on Arasaka, and then waiting about five minutes at the dialogue options before he cracks and says, well, yeah, maybe you could do this all on your lonesome.

This is a problem. For a lot of reasons.

It's just tied to how much he likes you, and has nothing to do with that fame stat, or even how strong you are. I could switch on my Sandevistan and cut a dozen people in half with blades sticking out of my arms before the first one hit the ground, but unless I said the one specific thing to Johnny in an old oil field, he wouldn't believe me capable.

Having to wait at dialogue options is actively discouraged in other parts of the game. A lot of conversations will have the NPC bark something at you if you take too long going over your options. As someone with attention issues who alt-tabs out of my games to chat with my friends or fiddle with music playing in the background or even just getting up to use the bathroom with my headphones on, that's really annoying. And it teaches you not to have a lull in the conversation. So you would very likely never encounter this naturally, you have to look up how to do it. And that's a game design sin.

The ending is pretty satisfying, in terms of the experience. You basically walk in the front door and kill your way through Arasaka's deadliest troops, including a fight with Adam Smasher with zero assistance. When I got to that fight in my first run I think it was implied that an allied netrunner took a chunk of his health out for me. This V had no such help. And the fucker has health gates, so every once in a while I'd have to back off and let him finish staggering because it would be ungentlemanly to continue slicing his very expensive armor to ribbons, apparently. This is a dicey situation to be in given that the secret ending mission has the penalty that if you die, once, you go straight to credits. Thank god for Cheat Death, Biomonitor, and Second Heart.

The real problem is the writing at the end. After doing this all on your own, after inviting an AI into the sensitive systems of Arasaka and giving them the keys to the kingdom, as promised they assist you in untangling Johnny's soul from yours. But guess what! You're still dying. And this time you find out that somehow, you're only dying because it's you in your body. If Johnny keeps it, he gets to live out the rest of your natural life as you.

How that fucking works is not well explained. But, again, whatever. Bad writing, it's the mood they wanted to work with, probably has something to do with future content having to take place shortly after the end of the game. Speaking of which, I'm definitely not getting the DLC (supposedly) coming out later this year, not on launch at least. And, probably, not at all.

But in this best ending, if you choose to go back to your body and live out the time you have left, you become the new owner of the Afterlife, the premier bar for edgerunners in Night City, and the start of the real biggest job of your career: robbing the Crystal Palace, an orbital casino that caters to the ultra of the ultra-wealthy. The game of course ends on you floating through space towards it, no idea how that's going to play into the DLC. I guess you're just assumed to have pulled it off before you do whatever content they're going to give us next.

In a lot of ways it's a great note to end on. You got everything you wanted, you got more, in fact. Unfortunately you can't escape your early death, but at least you have more of an idea of when it's coming. An even bigger job than the one you just did, one that's already of historic proportions.

It's very hard to read in this low-res pamphlet, but again, it bears mentioning.

RESTAURANS.

A typo. In your face. At the apex of your story, after getting the secret ending to a difficult game, one already plagued with numerous issues.

[paintingformike]

the way some people talk about not “trusting” the duffers with byler you’d think they’ve been purposely half assing the development and build up of their relationship but nooo they literally gave us THESE like. tell me any other canon couple in the show that has a cinematography that actually stands out the way theirs does. they literally get so much special treatment for a “platonic” pairing, so many one on one scenes and heart to hearts together

after all the effort they put into writing an elaborate painting storyline for them and all the time and money they spent into making their scenes look more intimate and emotional and tense and as if they were the only two people in the world...you think they’d give us an unsatisfying ending and leave it ambiguous or up to interpretation? be fucking fr if anything theyre dying to finally just allow them to meet in the middle and get together 😭 and lets not act like the painting plot isn’t quite literally leading into a giant confrontation of feelings, there’s literally NO WAY to conclude that without making the state of their relationship explicit

also let’s be real here, they were the ones who actively CHOSE to develop their relationship very seriously and with deep, emotional moments more so than any other (romantic) pairing in the show. the way they’ve treated them and framed their scenes together actually shows they care a lot about making sure their storyline is intricately written and thoughtfully planned and wrapped up satisfyingly. i never got the sense that they’d do otherwise and they never gave me a reason to believe they’d just half ass this plotline because they’ve shown that they actually care a little too much their moments together. heck, they spent nearly an entire day just to film the van scene perfectly and get it exactly right and the writing of the other characters in volume 2 (aside from lumax’s and el’s storylines ig...) just pales in comparison to will’s veiled love confession in the van scene, it’s as if they spent 80% of their energy in the van scene then half assed every other plot point like i swear they secretly see byler’s relationship as their “baby” that they subtly put double the effort into writing and developing...

and their supposed “main couple” doesn’t even get treated nearly as seriously enough? since they got together they’ve mostly only had lighthearted/playful moments and fights, they rarely get any meaningful or deep conversations as much as byler does and their relationship in s3 was used for comedic effect and they’re constantly separated from each other...and i’ve reiterated this a million times before but there’s such a clear contrast between the intimacy in byler scenes vs the lack of intimacy and effort put into mileven scenes, especially in season 4. they’re never just alone together, either will is in the background or there’s several distractions and other people in the shot that make you not focus on them or just make their scenes together look ugly. to top it all off, the monologue, which is supposedly their big romantic moment, was filmed with the ugliest lighting, had the camera constantly panning to other characters and will being in the background 90% of the time to the point it’s actually begging for your attention, you’re literally constantly reminded there are other people with them and it apparently only took around 5 takes to finish LMFAO the duffers are not as much of “mileven obsessed” as people think they are, because if they actually are then they’re doing a pretty horrible job with it.

this is why i need some bylers, but especially twt bylers who happen to be the most pessimistic, to have a little more faith and stop losing hope every 5 seconds because if you’re so convinced the duffers don’t care enough about byler to write them a satisfying ending then why would they put this much emphasis in their relationship and make their scenes together 10x more serious and emotional? i get still not trusting the duffers on certain matters and because they’re “two cishet white men” or whatever but either way it’s not even like they’re the only writers of the show, and somehow they’re able to write their gay main character in a way that hits close to home for a lot of queer people because his experiences are very authentically written. im not even trying to put them in a pedestal but despite being allegedly cishet they still did manage to write the van scene all by themselves and knew how to portray will’s feelings of alienation as a gay man for being “different” and a “mistake”, so at the very least they probably consult actual queer people/writers 🤔 even though they’re not perfect in every way, sexuality issues and queerness are actually treated a little more seriously in stranger things and they managed to delve a little deeper into its connection with puberty and conforming to what’s “normal”, unlike other shows that just ended up queerbaiting. none of those other shows have explored a queer person’s sexual identity as much as stranger things has, and they managed to do this alongside the overarching supernatural plot. it also actually ties into the themes of the show so it would make sense if they decided that their main couple should be the embodiment of outcasted and marginalized 🤷‍♀️ anyways i didnt intend for this to get this long but i hope it does manage to keep people’s confidence in check cause i always end up doing this when i start seeing people being too negative to the point it’s just irritating im sawrry 🙏

[mercy-burning]

My Forever — Part 4

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: The funeral arrives, and high tensions arise. Category: SMUT (18+), a bit of fluff, angst Content: Strong language, funeral service, kissing, fingering, exhibitionism, yelling, crying, Spencer gets slapped in the face Word Count: 4.4k

MAIN MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

NOTE: SURPRISE, I was finally able to finish this last night before bed lol. I wanted something to look forward to after my interview today, so this is going up while I’m there. Hopefully I come back home to some chaos (I fully expect for you all to yell at me hehehe).

———

Despite the fact that funerals are always seen as rainy or gloomy in the movies, the day of Grandma's funeral is actually quite perfect.

Well, in terms of weather, at least.

Mom is holding herself together nicely, which I'm glad for, although it's easy to tell how all the emotions are flooding back to her. I'm sure that once the service actually starts and everyone starts talking about how great Grandma was, she'll lose the wall she's putting up and realize it's been made of glass.

In fact, Adam and I came up with a secret pact to keep an eye on her and make sure everything goes as smoothly as possible today. He's on the physical and emotional comfort duty while my job is to make sure none of my distant, erratic family members cause a scene. It's not likely that any of them will actually do it, but there's a reason I've described them as erratic. Really, it makes more sense to me now that I'm older why we've never visited any of them over the course of my life aside from holidays.

I myself am a bit more nervous today now that I know Spencer is actually showing up. I'm still not entirely sure why he wants to be here, either. With as many funerals as I imagine he's been to, I don't understand why he would want to put himself through this. I appreciate his kindness of course, but still, he's been around enough death in his lifetime, and I assumed that's why he actually quit his job and went to teaching.

I suppose I could ask him about it when we get a moment alone, but my mind can't help but wander immediately to a situation where I do it, and as a response he romantically tells me he couldn't spend a day without me, knowing that I was in emotional anguish and needed him to comfort me. He would kiss me sweetly and wipe away my tears and hold me and never let me go.

Not at all does the possibility cross my mind that he could just want to be there for his ex-girlfriend who he's good friends with and her daughter, who he obviously cares enough about to sleep with on a regular basis.

Today isn't about Spencer, though. It's not about our tryst or how I might actually be falling in love with him again.

Today is about celebrating my grandmother's life with my family.

I do my best to push him out of my mind, and for a while it works. I talk with family members for a little while and reunite with our old pastor, who I haven't seen since Mom's wedding (Grandma was the religious one out of us all, and Mom only decided to have a church wedding to honor her after she got sick).

But then he shows up, and in just a split second all sense of self-control is begging to be let out of its cage. Here we are at a funeral for someone I've known my whole life, and all I can stand to think about his how good Spencer looks wearing all black. There's a contrast between the dark of his clothing and the slight gray color coming through in small tufts of hair. It all suits him so incredibly well that when he hugs me I nearly fall to my knees.

I see him talk to Mom and Adam briefly as I'm whisked away shortly after to monitor my cousin's baby while she goes to the bathroom, and as I hold the sleeping child in my arms, I can tell today will be long and exhausting.

Maybe I can find a way to avoid him... I mean, Lord knows I'm surrounded by people that will want to play catch-up and tell me "crazy" stories about my grandmother that I've already heard thousands of times. And sure, even that will be exhausting, but if it means I have a way to keep my mind off of Spencer and his tendency to make my brain turn to mush, then... for Mom's sake, that's what I'll have to do.

Easy.

———

Not easy.

Not in the slightest.

I swear, it's like Grandma is rolling in her grave, laughing at me and plotting with God to punish me for my sins, because this man is fucking everywhere.

Just when I think I've managed to avoid him, I turn around and see him only a few people away, talking innocently with Adam, or sitting by himself and observing. One time I find him standing in the corner of the room, obviously looking at me with an expression I can't read, and it drives me insane.

Part of me wants to go up to him and convince him to leave out of desperation, but I know it's unfair. I've dug this hole myself, and I can either maintain it and stay above-ground or fall inside and get hurt. As long as I keep my cool, no one will know a thing.

Besides, today isn't even about us. It's about Grandma, and Mom.

The service starts earlier than planned, thanks to a surprising amount of people that showed up on time. I'm grateful, of course, because it's easier on Mom but also because it means it's less time I have to spend trying to get Spencer out of my mind in a room full of people who would absolutely flip if they found out what we were doing behind closed doors.

He's off my mind almost entirely once things get started, though, and in an hour's time I'm fighting tears.

Mom tells a story about the day I turned two years old, when all she had was herself and my neverending tendency to cry whenever I wasn't sleeping in her arms. My dad was nowhere to be found, almost everyone she'd ever known lived far away, and the only person who ever had a full clue as to what was going on in her life was Grandma. The two of them took me to the zoo that day, and it was the first day in months that I hadn't cried for an extended period of time.

I still have the little hat that Grandma picked out for me that day, on the tall wooden post of my childhood bed.

Mom tells the story with tears in her eyes, and she looks at me the entire time. Beside me, Adam reaches for my hand, and I grab it with all my might, the cool metal of his wedding ring and the love for my mother it holds grounding me in reality as I try not to make a sound.

We've come a long way since then, and even though Grandma is gone, her love for us is here. It's what's gotten us through some of the toughest parts of our life.

I was supposed to say a few things later, but when Mom's speeches are done and she steps down to come sit with me while the pastor reads some bible passages, she holds me tight and says that I don't have to go up. If I were stronger, I might be able to persist, but I'm relieved when she tells me.

We never separate for the rest of the service. A few others come up at random to tell stories, but it's all nice and short, and then it's all over. If anyone wants to visit Grandma's grave, they're welcome to, but with the threat of rain sometime today, we decided not to hold anything there formally.

Besides, we've been there so often I'm sure Mom doesn't want to go again unless absolutely necessary.

People shuffle out of the church as some of Grandma's favorite songs play over the speakers. They sound cheap and horrible, but it's not really supposed to matter. Actually, I think she would have rather enjoyed the low quality sound. Something about it being vintage. I can hear her saying it in that slightly judgemental-of-my-generation tone that's enough to make me roll my eyes but not enough to make me argue with her, and I smile at the thought.

Once again, distant family members and even some people I've never met, stop by to give condolences and to hug us, and Mom seems to know them all while I just stand there awkwardly with Adam. He's joining in conversations at least, but he's better at holding conversation anyway, especially in awkward situations.

I don't even see him, but I feel him, a familiar pari of arms wrapping around me from behind, and I turn around to immediately nestle into his chest.

My brain doesn't even comprehend what's happening until Mom calls out to him warmly, and I freeze. Still, I can't seem to let go of him. All I want to do is be in Spencer's arms, and so that's where I stay.

It seems my emotional state is good enough of a cover to make this seem normal.

"You're stopping by at the house, right?" Mom asks him. "You're not busy?"

"No, I'm not busy."

"Why don't you two go ahead then... Maybe calm down a bit. No one will get there until I leave anyway, so that gives you some time... You alright with that, honey?"

Mom's hand brushes the hair from my face and she rubs my shoulder. I'm still nestled into Spencer's chest, but I nod all the same, turning a little to look at her. "You sure? You'll be okay?"

"Of course. I'll be okay." Just after, I can see her look up at her ex-boyfriend and mouth 'thank you,' and in response he just squeezes me tightly.

"C'mone, Y/N," he whispers softly into my hair, and I can feel his lips press into the top of my head.

For a moment, despite everything, this is the most normal I've felt in years. Everything feels eerily, and yet incredibly, right.

———

My mind is jumbled, swimming with too many thoughts and emotions as we take Spencer's car to the house. I focus on the one large cloud in the sky ahead of us, wondering if it might bring any rain before the day is done, like it's supposed to for weeks now.

I don't even notice when we take a wrong turn, not until we end up at McDonald's and Spencer's ordering through the drive-thru—20-piece chicken nuggets, a Coke, and a large fry. It's what I order every time we've gone, usually after we've been so wrapped up in each other that we'd forgotten about food. In a quick pinch, since neither of us ever had food in the house, we drove to McDonald's and he always took three chicken nuggets, a couple fries, and stopped at a local drive-thru Thai place for himself.

The memory of it all brings a small smile to my face as we wait in line for the next car to pull up.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks gently.

"Every other McDonald's trip we've taken," I answer with a smile. "Those are some of my favorite summer memories..."

His face had already been soft, but it seems to soften further, like taffy under the sun when I tell him that. It's like the look my Mom gave him when he held me only minutes ago, only sweeter.

"Mine, too," he whispers. His hand reaches out to touch mine, but before our skin can connect, the car behind us honks, and we jump. The car in front of us has disappeared entirely, Spencer looks apologetic and anxiously pulls forward, and I can't help the wide grin spread across my face at the normalcy of it all.

We don't say anything else for the rest of the ride, other than when we pass the Thai place and I ask him if he wants to stop and go back, to which he replies, "Not hungry."

I sip on my Coke while clutching the bag for dear life in my lap, willing the heat of the food to stay trapped while we make our way home.

I'm capable of opening the car and front door, but Spencer does it all for me, even taking the key from my bag to unlock the front door. I step inside, kick my shoes off, and he immediately goes for the thermostat, always turned off but air conditioning switched on right when we come home.

It's crazy to me how much it feels like no time has passed. This is just like every food trip we've taken before other than the formal clothes and the absence of Thai food. But our path to the kitchen even remains the same.

He takes his spot in Mom's chair while I sit across from him at my own, taking my food out and spreading it in front of me like a feast. One carton of nuggets gets opened and five of them immediately go the other side to be even. Spencer opens my BBQ cup and sets it beside the carton while I open the other one and dip a couple fries into it.

"I just opened one for you," he says with a laugh.

I gesture to the twenty chicken nuggets which I know I will never finish. "Now it's for you. Eat up."

"I'm not hungry."

"But you always take three of my chicken nuggets. And besides, after skipping Thai, I'm not letting you stray from tradition any bit further. So eat up."

He never stops smiling at me, white teeth and squinting eyes that make my heart soar. Even as he takes a nugget, the smile doesn't falter.

We eat in silence then for a few moments, and I try not to think about the rest of the world. Any minute now Mom could be coming home, but it won't matter because we're just eating and smiling. We're two normal people taking pleasure in each other's company in a wholesome, fulfilling way, and on a day like today with its tears and choked words, I think it's the least I can do to embrace that.

As predicted, I can't finish all the food, but Spencer must have decided he was, in fact, hungry after all, because whatever I don't touch, he does. All of it is gone within twenty minutes, and I'm not even thinking about the fact that Mom isn't home yet.

Which is why it's natural for me to lean down and kiss him on the cheek while I pass him to throw out the remnants of our feast. I come back, still not thinking about it when he pulls me onto his lap with a laugh and attacks my neck with over-exaggerated feral kisses that make me squirm and shriek.

And I certainly don't think about it when my hands knot through his hair and bring his face to mine, connecting our lips and giving me butterflies all over.

I don't know how long we sit there, in this uncomfortable-ass dining room chair while he kisses me like the world might end. It's sweet, yet intense, his tongue is gentle and insistent all the same, and his hands roam my body with such care and thought that it never crosses my mind that at any moment this could end in disaster. How could it, when it feels so right? So normal?

It's not even purely lustful at this point. The love I'm feeling for this man at this moment in time is stronger than anything I've felt in a long time. He knows me in and out, takes care of me and does things he know will make me smile, he feels like home.

Home...

Why is that word so prominent?

...home!

...

"Y/N, we're home!"

The speed at which I fly off Spencer's lap and fix my clothes is incredible. He does the same, awkwardly shifting in the chair to hide a forming boner and ultimately deciding on scurrying to the bathroom down the hall where no one will even know he's just been in here.

Just in case, I leave the kitchen and navigate to the front room, catching Mom and Adam just as they're taking off their shoes. Maybe I can give him a few minutes...

"Hey! Oh, you brought McDonald's..."

"Figured you might be hungry," Mom says, holding the bag out.

"I was, but uh... Spencer and I picked some up on the way back, we just finished."

"Oh, good. Where is he?"

"Bathroom."

"Well, hopefully he's able to stay a bit longer. Maybe he can keep you company while we entertain everyone— I know you don't have much in common with your relatives, and you guys seem to get along pretty well."

If only you knew...

"Yeah, I... don't know what he plans on doing. We'll see."

"You two do get along, right? I'm not imagining that? It's not weird at all?"

"No! No, you're right, everything's great... It's uh... It's been nice catching up."

Her smile is sickeningly sweet, it almost makes me sad to know she doesn't even know the half of what catching up we've actually been up to. "Oh, well, good. I'm glad we can all put the past behind us and get along well. Hell, after the shit we've been through, we deserve it."

She and Adam pass me and head to the kitchen with kind smiles, but mine fades once they're out of view.

Just like that, I'm a nervous wreck all over again.

———

He's been watching me all afternoon.

Whether I'm speaking with one of my cousins or just scrolling my phone while I sip on some water, I can feel him keeping an eye on me. It's protective in a way. I noticed it, too, when we were in the church. A room full of people he didn't know and an ex-girlfriend with no idea what's been going on behind closed doors, and rather than bolting like I would in his position, he watches out for me and risks being found out.

Because it's not like his looks are subtle in any way, shape, or form. I'll catch his eye, and he's either protective, or dreamy-eyed, or sometimes even lustful. It's a wide range, all of them holding an intensity that would give him away instantaneously.

I should be worried, and in a way I am... But at the moment I find it extremely hot.

I hate that I feel this way. Really, I do, especially on today of all days. But then I can't help but think about the kisses we've shared in the past few days, the moment we shared in the drive-thru, and the constant smiles and domesticity from the moment we parked on the street in front of the house....

All of it makes me realize that whether I want to call this just a summer fling or not, he's always meant more to me than that.

I can't ignore that any longer.

Lately all I've been doing is overthinking, and I don't want to do that anymore. I want to carry out what I know, and what I know with the most certainty is that I want him, and I need him. I need him to know just how in this I am, how deeply he inhabits my being and every waking thought I have. Even when I'm not thinking about him blatantly, somehow it always comes back to him anyway.

So, against my better judgement, I approach him and get him to a corner of the room that's somewhat discreet. People can still look over and see us at any time, but we're far enough away that at least they wouldn't hear what I'm about to say.

"You okay?" is his first question. He gets it out before I even have the chance to open my mouth. The sentiment is sweet. But right now I'm not looking for something sweet, and by the look he gets in his eye when I finally speak to him, I can tell he's gotten rid of his sweet tooth as well.

"Coat closet. Five minutes."

I don't even give him time to process, nor do I give myself time to gauge his reaction. Whether that's good in the long-run or not I can't be sure, but the long-run isn't on my mind as I make my way up the stairs and into the small closet next to my bedroom. Instead, I'm thinking of how two days from now I will be leaving, and once again our affair will be cut short. But right now he's here, and I'm here, and our tension is as palpable as ever, so damn it, I'm going to make the most of it.

I told him five minutes, but he shows up in about two, the door opening and closing immediately yet quietly. He pulls the string beside us to turn on the light, but I pull it to turn it off.

"Just replaced the lightbulb," I explain, grabbing him by the jacket and pulling him to me. "Too bright."

"Mmm," he huffs back shortly, already leaning down to kiss me.

What starts off so tender even in its urgency becomes rushed and heated in only a matter of mere seconds. All it takes is his hand snaking through my hair to send me into overdrive, and I'm hooking my right leg around his thigh to bring us closer the second he does it.

My pants are a little too tight, though, making it uncomfortable, and I huff, bringing my leg down.

Spencer laughs. "You ok, there?"

I kiss him, hoping he'll skip the teasing and go straight to the finish line— or at least start sprinting towards it.

He laughs over my lips, but accepts my vigor with grace, smoothly gliding his hands down my body. His tongue slips sweetly into my mouth right at the same time he unsnaps the button of my pants, making me whine out in need.

His fingers maneuver swiftly down the front of my body and slip past all the fabric with no problem, until finally, they work to give me sweet release.

Low vibrations tumble from Spencer's throat and into my mouth as his middle finger explores my cunt, testing the waters.

"God, you're so wet..." he grumbles, shifting us around in the closet so we have a little more room. He kisses me again, continuing to delve his finger in deeper and deeper, and his other hand grips my hair so tight I'll probably have a headache afterwards.

I reach out to touch him, to make him go faster or something, but he lets go of my hair and grabs my wrist, taking his other finger out of me to come back to my clit.

"Let me take care of you, love," he whispers, lacing our fingers together. I can feel so many things at once, love and lust and urgency and infatuation... All of it consumes me and brings me to life, all because of that one word and all its implications.

Love.

I can't hold it back anymore.

I squeeze his hand and revel in what the other is doing to my clit, letting myself get wrapped up in his affection when I whisper, "I love you," and whimper when he says it back and closes the distance between our lips.

I love you...

Our confession burns through my brain like a wildfire, just as brightly as the fire in the pit of my belly as I near orgasm.

It's so bright.

So bright...

Holy fuck, why is it so bright?

A shrieked, "Oh my God!" sends my soul out of my body and Spencer's hand out of my pants.

Suddenly it's like the sky has come crashing down, bringing with it the sun and all it's burning, blazing fury. It sets my body on fire and traps me while I tremble, every part of my soul knowing that it's finally over.

My life is completely, indefinitely over.

I don't know what to do with myself as Mom pulls Spencer out of the closet and throws him to the ground. She looks at me, then back to him, and when she looks at me that final time, her face nearly destroys my soul.

She's sad. I can tell in the way she pouts her lip, and the way her body shakes. Her eyes are welling up with tears and her mouth is trembling. And when I finally have the courage to move, to reach out for her as an instinct to comfort her, she flinches, turning her whole body from me.

"I... can't even look at you," she chokes out, closer to sobbing with every syllable.

"Eve, it's not her f—"

Her sadness is pure anger now as she whips to Spencer, who's gotten up off the floor. He doesn't stay steady for long, because her hand flies out and thwacks him in the face, sending him back a few steps.

"Don't you dare say another word, you motherfucker! Get out of my house! I don't ever want to see your face again, do you understand me!"

Spencer looks over at me then, but only for a few seconds before Mom nearly tackles him to the ground again. But by now, Adam is behind her, holding her back while she sobs incoherencies. He's angry, I can tell, but he keeps his cool considering, giving Spencer just one look to let him know that he better do what she says.

And he does.

Without another word or another glance, Spencer leaves, keeping his head down as he disappears from sight.

My gut instinct is to walk out after him, to tell him to wait, but as soon as I take a step out of the closet, Mom turns to me and points a finger. I jump back, afraid that if Adam lets her go she'll start running at me.

"I swear to god, Y/N, if you walk out that front door, I better not ever see you come through it again..."

Her voice is thoroughly pained. It's low, angry, and fueled by a betrayal so strong there isn't a string of words elegant enough to describe it.

But there could never be an elegant way to describe this situation, I suppose.

It's betrayal. It's disappointment. It's heartache. It's sin... Simple as that.

There's no coming back from this.

With eyes blurring through tears and my ribs burning through shards of a broken glass heart, I make the only decision I can think of and run for the door.

I only hope I've chosen the right one.

———

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[nastybuckybarnes]

Hoist The Colours  -  3/3

Pairing: Pirate!Bucky X SeaGoddess!Reader 

Summary: An encounter with the man you used to love lands you and your new crew in peril, stuck on a ship with the people responsible for binding you. And what they have planned for you is far worse than what you’d first imagined.

Warnings: Language, Angst, Fluff, Violence, Injuries, Death,

Word Count: 2.2K

A/n: Oof another thing is finished. I’m gonna start actually finishing stuff but Idk what to write I’m sad that my stuff is ending :( But I hope you enjoy this!

~*~

The door to your cell gets wrenched open, pulling you from your light sleep.

“You!” Rumlow snarls, grabbing you by the throat and lifting you to your feet.

“Where have they taken my prisoners?” You furrow your brows, yanking out of his grip.

“How am I supposed to know? I was left behind.” He grinds his teeth together and grabs your bicep, dragging you out of your cell and onto the main deck.

The clouds are dark and gloomy, the waters wild and violent, but not by your doing.

“You must’ve helped them, that other witch too! So tell me, how did you do it?” He shoves you and you gasp, tumbling onto the wet wood of the deck.

“How could I have helped them? You have me chained up like a dog!” You spit, glaring up at him. He stoops down to your level, grabbing your face harshly.

“You will watch your tongue or you will lose it. You do not need your voice to do my bidding.” He shoves you back down and you bite back a yelp of pain.

The sky darkens further, thunder booming and clouds rolling in.

“I will never do your bidding!” You snarl, a flash of lightning punctuating your words.

Rumlow’s eyes widen for a moment, and then he’s got his sword pointed at you, the tip just brushing your throat.

“On your feet, witch!” You obey, standing up with your chin held high.

“You will do my bidding, or you will join all those who you have sent to the depths. It is your choice.” You follow his gaze over your shoulder to where the plank is being extended over the raging ocean.

You look back at him, jaw set, and he knows you’ve made your decision.

The wind whips around your hair as he walks you to the plank, his sword digging into your back just hard enough to cause discomfort, but not pain, not yet.

You carefully step onto the plank, taking deep breaths of the salty air as the water rages beneath you.

“I will give you one last chance, wench. I will spare your life, all you need do is swear your powers to me. You’ll have the sea back in your grasp, the power to do what you please. You need only do so at my side.”

Raindrops splatter against your face, just gently at first, until you’re consumed in an intense storm, the water pelting down against you.

“You’ve forgotten, Captain, that you are not sending me to the depths,” you look over your shoulder at him with a small smile, “you are sending me home.”

You look down at the water, preparing yourself for the cool embrace, when a particularly harsh wave rocks against the ship, sending you stumbling back a step.

A wave rises up over the ship, a spiral of green swirling inside of it and for a moment you think that you’ve already died.

The wave crashes against the ship, sending the men falling and scrambling, submerging the deck for a moment.

But you stay rooted in place, the familiar green hue just touching your fingertips, the ends of your hair, then slowly becoming part of you once more.

You hear the men shouting and coughing, feel Rumlow’s sword pressed against your back once again, but you only turn around to face him.

The storm continues, the waves fighting the ship, and you cock your head to the side, sending a gust of wind towards the man threatening you. He stumbles back, eyes wide with fear.

“H-how do you...” You take slow steps towards him, waving your hand behind you as his crew-mates try to run at you. The wind pushes them back, keeping them a safe distance from you and the captain.

“You will give me answers and you will give them to me now!” You hiss, glaring daggers at him.

“Whatever it is that you wish to know, I will tell you. Just please, spare my life.”

You watch him for a long moment, fighting tears as the question bubbles out of you.

“Why? Why did he do it?”

Rumlow only shakes his head, on his knees and ready to beg for mercy.

“’twas me... I caused him to do it. With the help of a siren for the price of his left arm, I got the binding spell from him. He knew not what he was doing, though he gave the information.” You let out a shaky breath, a weight lifted off of your shoulders.

“All this time I had thought it was he who betrayed me... but it wasn’t.” You turn your gaze to him, eyes glowing green with the influx of power.

“It was you. You and your greed.” He shakes his head and scrambles back desperately.

You step aside as a sword comes down right where you were standing, and Rumlow uses your momentary distraction to sprint away.

“Kill her! Kill the Witch!” He shouts, grabbing his own sword.

You shake your head, the wind whipping strong enough to keep them away.

A nagging in your mind stops you for a moment, and a smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

“The King and his men stole the queen from her bed... and bound her in her bones.” Your voice travels on the wind.

“The seas be ours, and by the powers, where we will, we’ll roam.”

“Captain! We’ve got a ship coming up starboard!” A man shouts, pointing his sword at the familiar ship.

“They’re upon us! Battle stations!” The men scramble to their stations, trying to get prepared as the ship approaches.

“Yo ho, all hands, hoist the colours high. Heave ho, thieves and beggars, never shall we die.” The voices ring out to you clear as day, responding to the call.

It’s only a matter of moments before canons start firing and men start boarding the ship, swords clashing and guns firing.

Your eyes scan the crowd, freezing on a man approaching you. You simply look at him and he crumples to the ground, grabbing at his throat.

“Rumlow!” You shout, following your instincts up to the foredeck and finding the captain cowering, exactly how you thought he would.

“You want to throw me overboard, captain?” You sneer his title, taking another step towards him. He stumbles back, slipping on the wet wood and scrambling away from you and towards the main deck.

“You forget that I am the sea and all things in it.”

The rain pelts down on you and the wind whips your hair around your face wildly, your eyes glowing green with the force of your power.

At that moment, you look every bit the sea goddess that the stories described. And today, you’re planning on being just as cruel.

“You stripped me of my purpose, my power. Bound me to my form and took away my reason for existence! You sacrificed the man I love for your own greedy gain. What do you have to say for yourself?” Your powers protect you from the fighting around you, the man before you protected as well.

No one will take your vengeance from you.

“I’m sorry!” He cries, slipping back further.

You shake your head and grab him by the front of his tunic, tossing his sword aside and glaring into his eyes.

“No, you’re not. Not yet. But you will be, that I promise you.”

You cock your head to the side, your free hand coming up, fingers flexed.

The water on the deck swirls around your ankles, clawing up the man before you.

“You’ve never had your purpose taken from you because a man like you has no purpose.” You twist your wrist, controlling the water around you and watch in satisfaction as his eyes widen, the water rising up over his face.

“So what else can I take, but your life?” You ask rhetorically, watching as the water trickles into his mouth and nose, slowly at first, then picking up speed.

He tries to claw at you, but his hands can’t reach you. His struggles are futile, though that doesn’t stop him.

You steal the life away from him, exactly the way he did to you.

He collapses on the ground, his body convulsing for a moment before falling still, death embracing him.

You take a deep breath, embracing your freedom, then slowly turn around.

You’re instantly meet with piercing blue eyes staring at you from across the ship. His chest is heaving and he’s squinting through the downpour, but his eyes are on you.

You walk over to him, the rain lessening with each step you take until you’re right in front of him.

The wind dies down and the ocean becomes calm. The fighting around you draws to a sombre end, victory on the tip of your tongue.

His sword clatters to the ground, his hands finding yours ever so gently, his eyes filled with so many emotions.

“Gentlemen, the ship is ours!” Steve shouts, a smile on his face. You turn around, pulling Bucky’s arms around your waist as you watch the crew celebrate their success.

Your eyes find Wanda’s and Tony’s through the crowd, both of them smiling brightly up at you.

The two crews celebrate, Pirates and Kingsmen, and you can’t help but smile at them.

“Back to the ship! We’ve gotten what we came for. The King can enjoy plundering Rumlow’s ship. I trust that will keep him off of our back for a while, yes?” Steve looks at Tony pointedly and the brunet nods.

You step out of your lover’s arms and walk down to the two men, one hand gently finding Tony’s forearm.

“I owe you a debt, Tony. One I fear I may never be able to repay.” He shakes his head, taking your hands gently in his and smiling at you.

“You’ve no debt to be paid. But if you feel so inclined, could you maybe hold back any storms for the next day or so? I’d like a chance to dry my clothes.” You giggle and nod, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you, for all that you’ve done for myself and Wanda.” He gives you a tender smile and nods.

“It’s what I wish had been done for my mother.” He sniffles then straightens up.

“Now come on, men. It’s time we return to the King!” His crew-mates start busying themselves quickly.

“Alright lads, back to the ship!” Steve calls, leading his own crew members to their ship.

You watch as everyone eagerly crosses, smiling encouragingly at Wanda. She crosses swiftly, her eyes drawing to the helmsman for a moment.

“Are you ready?” A soft voice asks from behind you. You take a breath then nod, looking over at him.

“Yes.”

The two of you cross back to his ship, the ship almost cooing at you as soon as your feet hit the deck. You can’t fight the smile the spreads on your face at being back, and you don’t try to.

“It’s good to have you back,” Steve says, giving you a nod. You do the same, sighing happily.

“It’s good to be back, Steve.” Bucky takes your hand then and tugs you gently towards his quarters.

The door closes softly behind you and you take a moment to reacquaint yourself with the room.

You can feel his eyes on you, the tension palpable but not unpleasant.

Without looking at him, you speak.

“Could you help me out of my gown? It’s far too heavy.” He walks towards you, untying the back and watching as the fabric slides down your body, leaving you only in your white slip.

His hands hesitantly trail over your skin, one cold and one hot and the contrast is so delicious.

You close your eyes and lean into his touch, head falling to the side as he presses soft kisses to your neck.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, my love,” he whispers against your skin, spinning you around to face him.

You gaze up at him lovingly, one hand coming up to cup his jaw.

“Show me,” you whisper, leaning up to gently brush your lips over his.

“Show me how much you missed me. Give me a reason to clear the skies and calm the seas. Make me give us good wind and easy sail. Prove to me that you’re still worthy of my mercy.”

He brings your hand to his mouth, kissing each one of your fingers then smiling.

“I’ll never truly be worthy of your mercy. But I am more than willing to both swear and prove my loyalty to you. I will give myself over to you; body, heart, mind, and soul.”

You look up at him tenderly, cupping his cheek gently.

“I will sail to the ends of the Earth for you, fight the gods if I need to. Anything to keep you in my arms.”

“My heart belongs to you, James. And never will it belong to anyone else.”

[jungw8ns]

GOING TO AN ESCAPE ROOM WITH ENHYPEN !

PAIRING: boyfriend!enha x gn!reader. GENRE: established relationship, fluff, crack. WARNINGS: profanity (not that much tho), mentions of death (?). WORD COUNT: 100 - 200 each member.

HEESEUNG:

the two of you were so pumped playing an escape room together for the first time that the other people in line had to calm you guys down (which was trully embarrassing to say the least 🤐🤐)

he was looking at the ranking board filled with pictures of players that had succeeded in the shortest amount of time and he just wanted nothing more than to see both your faces on there

but anyways, we all know how competitive heeseung gets 🕴️

oh boy let me tell you, this guy WAS SPEEDRUNNING IT but not the kind you were thinking

the second the timer had started he was literally SPRINTING AROUND THE ROOM LOOKING FOR CLUES YET COMPLETELY MISSING THEM 🏃‍♂️💨💨💨

while he was busy running around, you were picking up the little details in the room and in no time managed to open a few locks

"y/n look i found– oh 😐😑😐"

HE WAS SULKING PLSSS 😭😭😭

when you noticed him standing from afar staring at you with his arms crossed, you called him to solve this one puzzle you already did

*gasps* "oh no! babe i don't understand how to do this, please help me 😔😔🤥🙏🙏"

he had to bite his lower lip to stop himself from letting out that cocky grin but it got out eventually

"oh it's so easy sweetheart, just put this here and then voila! 😉"

when the two of you escaped you suprisingly got to take a polaroid with him home after ranking 2nd in the records

heeseung was the one who held onto it tho, placing it underneath his clear phonecase for safekeeping <3

JAY:

GOD THIS DUDE

THE ESCAPE ROOM WASN'T EVEN THAT SCARY AND YET EVERYTIME YOU GUYS OPEN A LOCK OR A DOOR HIS FIGHT OR FLIGHT INSTINCTS COME UP 😭😭👊👊

"y/n stay behind me >:(("

"um, babe, you do realize that's just a door right?"

"WE'LL BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY?? THE STAFF COULD'VE PROGRAMMED IT TO GROW LEGS?? 😵🧐🧐"

you knew you shouldn't have played horror games with him a few nights ago cause he looked like he was about to lose his mind 😔

you had to shove his ass aside and move on to the next mission cause the both of you knew that he was stalling 🏌️‍♀️

jay was being extra clingy the whole time you were playing, he'd either link arms with you or hold hands (he's literally so adorable) 💞💞

BUT THEN YOU THOUGHT OF DOING A PRANK ON HIM

while you were roaming around the room trying to solve a puzzle, you saw this horse mask on a nearby table

and so you made sure jay was distracted and put on the mask

you could've NOT worn the dusty old thing but where was the fun in that?

"jay can you come here for a sec?"

you hid behind the wall beside the door frame waiting for him to come into your sight and attacked him

now, how about we guess what happens next?

a. he faints

b. he runs away

or c. he slaps you in the face and forces you to buy him food for the rest of the night

if you guessed c then YAY! YOU'RE CORRECT 🥳🎉🎉🎊

THIS HOE SLAPS YOU AS HE SHOULD

"$##/@+(+'£%(:?!!)&£**/*%@"

when he finally takes off the mask like those scenes in scooby doo he's never felt so betrayed in his life

"i- I TRUSTED YOU 😭😭😭 YOU BETTER BUY ME FOOD LATER, I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS, THE BETRAYAL???? LITERALLY UNPROVOKED?????"

he wouldn't stop side eyeing you until you guys finally pulled up on the mcdonalds drive thru

"hi, can i get two um– bts meals please? 😒😒 and two oreo mc flurries 🙄🙄 and also large fries 😐😐"

sane (1/3)

would be trailing behind you like a little puppy (i love him so much 😭😭😭)

he either has his arm linked with yours or held hands every five minutes

JAKE:

really focused on the puzzles he's doing but the second he hears you call out his name for help he's there beside you with the sweetest smile

but anyways, mans was POPPING OFF the entire time you were playing

he was solving problem after problem in no time (he wanted to impress you is why he activated his inner flash ⚡⚡) but he did let you play tho, the last thing he wanted to do was make you pissed at him for hogging all the games

def buried jake with compliments and forehead kisses right after ❤️__❤️

and so the two of you got out in like an hour and a few which you were very proud of

"you were so cool today babe, good job !!"

"aww thank you angel 😊😊"

sane (2/3)

SUNGHOON:

would be linking pinkies with you the whole time, only letting go whenever the both of you had to solve something that needed two or more people

there was this one game tho where he had to arm wrestle this literal hand lever to open the door to the last room (yea...don’t ask why, the staffs were pretty weird 😬😬) 

it made him enjoy the experience a bit more as it was only the two of you playing instead of getting accompanied by strangers

HGAWAHSGDHSGHDA PLSS THIS GUY

“oh this’ll be easy, y/n step aside, i’ll handle this 😏😏😏”

idk if you were supposed to think about how handsome he looked with his serious expression on and his veiny hands coming into frame or be worried for him because the lever was REAL HARD to pull that his veins looked like they were going to pop any second soon, you stepped in and helped him tho cause you were a good s/o <3

from a spectators point of view, the two of you looked like y’all were about shit your pants but the two of you eventually succeeded on beating it, immediately dragging him to the next room which had a sofa in it, laying down to catch your breaths

cliché moment ahead ⚠️⚠️

the two of you shared a few laughs before standing up on the empty space, held hands and started to jump in circles to celebrate your success 💃💃

yupp, y’all were never going back to that hellhole again

very stubborn at first, he wanted nothing to do with the game but then you held him at gunpoint by saying:

SUNOO:

"please just this once or else i'll revoke your mint choco ice cream rights 🔫🔫🔫"

"BUT IT'S SCARY IN THERE BABE :((("

"it won't be that scary sunshine, besides, i'll be ready to 🤜💥 yk?? trust me babe i would never let anyone hurt you <33"

kinda pissed since you blackmailed him into the place and also bc he wanted to play bumper cars and dance mania but he yea he caved in pretty quick 😋😋

(y/n let him play his games in peace tf >:(((( )

once you guys got in tho he realized how normal it was and that it was not terrifying at all

THE EPITOME OF CLINGY OMFG

he wouldn't stop back hugging you and you couldn't bring yourself to push him away to play the games so you just let him walk behind you with his arms on your shoulders 😩😩

(y'all were walking kinda funny but don't tell sunoo that 🤫🤫🤫)

yea the two of you ended up escaping with a whopping 2 hours and a few minutes

but it was the effort that counts so A+++++ for the both if you 😜👍👍👍

sane (3/3)

JUNGWON:

was the one who suggested going, he even searched on naver about really good escape room places to visit and was overall really looking forward it

he liked going to places and having fun with you so it wasn't a shock how his eyes were literally crescents and his dimples were so evident

yea he literally rushed the both of you to the place that you were the first in line 😵

while waiting for the staff to finish setting up he was playing with your connected hands like 🖐️✊🖐️✊ (so precious 💞💞)

"y/n why are you taking so long 😭😭 what if they close and we end up not solving a single lock, hurry up por favorrr 😩🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏"

when they finally lead you to the room he was kind of surprised that they had separated the two of you into different spaces (like the one with txt where they had the answers to the other member's puzzles yk???)

he was locked inside a telephone stand while you were handcuffed in the main room

dw the two of you reunited after a few minutes cause jungwon was rushing his lock to get to you 🤭

you both were progressing at an average pace and it made you guys a lot more closer (not that you guys weren't before but you get what i mean)

after you guys escaped the two of you went to eat curry and talked about the whole experience 😋✌️✌️✌️

this boy literally dragged you in the escape room with him

NIKI:

HE DIDN'T EVEN GIVE YOU TIME TO REFUSE HE JUST 😐👉🚪

"ok masterchefs, in order to test your abilities we must go through series of puzzles and make it out alive, understood?"

he tried ignoring how confused you were and went on to try and get you guys to escape

HE'S LAUGHING AT YOU FOR WHATEVER REASON AND OBV YOU LAUGH ASWELL CAUSE WHO WOULDN'T??? his laugh is so contagious pls 🤖🤖 he was so close to d wording cause he couldn't breathe from laughing too much

yea.. you guys spent so much time laughing at each other for being so dumb at this that you ended up playing 'till closing time

spoiler alert: he fails on doing anything cause the second you made eye contact with him this child collapses 😍🤩

GIRL SO EMBARRASSING 🤡🤡

THE STAFF KICKED THE BOTH OF YOU OUT AND NOW YOU GUYS WERE BANNED FROM THE PLACE ☠️☠️

"haunted house next weekend???"

"BET"

NOTE – god they were WAY funnier in my head but yeah.... i love them so much AND OMFG HAVE YOU GUYS SEEN HEESEUNG’S SELCAS LAST NIGHT???!?@??#?@?!?@ HE’S NOT REAL WTF ⁉️❓❓⁉️

also, idk why BUT EVERY TIME I SAVE A DRAFT the paragraphs get scrambled?? £!?) 6=6) 🤣😂💔💔🤣🤣😂💔 it's so annoying but anyways, ilysm pls stay safe and have a great day <33

[cursestothemoon]

hi, hope you're doing alright

could you do something with wolfstar x reader where she uses the safe word?

i love your writing btw

Our Good Girl

S.O.B. X FEM!READER X R.J.L. 

polyamorous relationship 

17+ IF YOU ARE TAGGED AND DON’T WANT TO BE TAGGED IN SMUT PLEASE LET ME KNOW

warnings: smut, vaginal penetration, oral (male and female receiving), degradation, humiliation, choking, spanking, USE OF SAFE WORD, dom!Sirius(maybe kinda switch!) and Dom!Remus/sub!reader, daddy kink because why not, spitting, UNEDITED (im sorry✋🏻)

Your quill tapped ceaselessly on the black walnut wood of the desks that filled Slughorn’s classroom. Sirius sat next to you, your partner since the beginning of the year and your boyfriend for a year and a half, had a firm grip on your upper thigh. His breathing was shallow and back incredibly straight as he sat in his seat without sparing you as much as a glance. You had made him mad, at least you assume you had, he came into class with a look of dominance and you knew better than to question him when he was like that. A short ‘You are to follow me after class’ was the only thing he had uttered to you since the start of the lesson, nearly an hour ago. 

“Alright everyone, you are to turn in your essays, no shorter than one and a half scrolls, by...let’s say Monday. Use the extra time wisely.” Slughorn dismissed the class after his reminding of the homework. 

Sirius was quick to slip his hand into your own, grabbing both your book bags and throwing them over his shoulder as he ushered you out of the classroom. 

“Remus and I have agreed you are to be punished, Moony’s probably already waiting for us in the dorm.”

You bit the corner of your lip before speaking up, “But I haven’t done anything bad.”

Sirius smirked as he stopped walking, turning to you with a glint in his eye, “Does Daddy need a reason to make sure his brat knows her place?”

The rasp in his low voice, his thumb tracing your cheekbone so lovingly juxtaposing the harsh, teasing tone of his words made arousal pool in your panties. 

“No, Daddy.” You mumbled, slipping your hand back into his as he started walking again. 

Without turning to look at you Sirius smiled, “Good girl.”

The rest of the way to the boys’ dorm was silent, Sirius just a few steps ahead of you at all times with his hand tugging yours just slightly. The door, a worn light wood, of the familiar dorm was being pushed open to reveal Remus sitting on his bed, belt in hand. His eyes turned toward you and Sirius as you entered the room, a stern look falling onto you.

“What did she do?” The question was directed to Sirius but his eyes trained on you.

Sirius shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant as he removed his tie, “Nothing, just think she needs some reminding.”

His mind was else where as he spoke making you silently wonder, had you done something?

Remus seemed to ask himself the same question as his brow furrowed slightly in your direction when Sirius wasn’t paying attention. You bit your lip again and averted your gaze to the floor making Remus stand and approach you.

His thumb came up to pull your lip from between your teeth, “Good bunny’s don’t shred their lips, you know Daddy doesn’t like it when you do that.”

You nodded, meeting his honey touched eyes as you spoke, “M’sorry, Daddy.”

“M’sorry, Daddy.” Sirius mocked, coming up to the two of you. 

He placed a longing kiss on Remus’ lips, knowing the lack of attention would have you whining. He was right, breathy whines were leaving your parted lips in no time as you watched your boyfriends slip into a passionate kiss while you were left to watch. You were tempted to reach your hand down and relieve the aching of your throbbing clit with your own fingers, give Sirius an actual reason to punish you, but he seemed rather testy already. 

“Is puppy getting needy all by her lonesome?” Sirius asked teasingly after he pulled away from Remus’ lips. 

You gave a feeble nod as your hands fiddled with each other. 

The raven haired boy sighed, as if this was talking a toll on him, “Alright, clothes off and over my knee.”

He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, taking Remus’ belt that had been left there by the lycanthrope mere minutes ago. Sirius ran the leather across his palm, it was still warm from being wrapped around one of his lovers’ hips. 

Again, Sirius seemed to lose himself in the act, his jaw tense and knee bouncing making you strip faster. Something was bothering him, and suddenly the impromptu punishment was making more sense. You were always eager to help him blow off some steam, so you made sure to be the good girl you knew you were, his and Remy’s good girl. 

You draped yourself over Sirius’ lap elegantly, the mere thought of helping him through his frustrations had you clenching your thighs. You were always eager to help your daddies. 

Remus was making quick work of ridding himself of his trousers and briefs. He was semi-hard already, jerking himself off as he walked closer you and Sirius. 

“Open up, puppy.” Remus instructed as he tapped the tip 0f hi cock on your lips. 

He pushed past your parted lips, the warmth of your mouth making him let out a breath that turned into a low hum as you started to suck on his spongey head. Remus’ thrusts into your mouth were slow and hard, his hand petting your head gently- his dominance was something he embodied, and rarely ever had to prove.

“You aren't to stop sucking Moony.” Sirius warned as he ran a hand across your ass, landing a soft smack just to see the skin ripple deliciously. 

You barely had any time to prepare yourself before you felt the harsh lick of the leather belt on the sensitive skin of your backside. His blows were quick- if he had asked you to count you would’ve struggled- and precise. The first few had an erotic sting to them, making you moan around Remus’ prick in your mouth, but as the belt returned to your skin it got firmer, the pain soon overtaking the pleasure. Sirius lost himself in the action, his mind seemingly glazing over the fact that you were on the receiving end of his brutal whips. His jaw was tensing again and Remus had half a mind to pull you away from him because this had to be painful, but you knew your safe word- if it was too much you’d tap his thigh three times and say your safe word- you showed no signs of displeasure so he went along with it. 

In your impending submissive haze, pleasing Sirius was the main focus on your mind and the pain was a small price to pay for your Daddy to not be mad anymore. You lost your rhythm as you tried your best to bob your head along Remus, his cock triggering your gag reflex now making you audibly choke. 

With perfect timing, Remus pulled you off himself as Sirius gave the last few blows to your backside. You were then shoved onto the bed harshly by the raven haired Gryffindor, the sheets rubbing against the raw skin of your ass making you wince quietly. 

Remus, in an attempt to balance the pain and pleasure , knelt down in front of your bare cunt. He started to rub slow circles with his thumb on your throbbing clit. 

“Our good girl is absolutely drenched Pads, here have a taste.” He offered, fingers dipping down to run up your slit and collect your juices before holding his hand up for Sirius. 

Sirius wasted in time in wrapping his lips around the waiting digits, cleaning them of your arousal. The sight made you squirm, it was beyond intimate and had your walls clenching. With a pop, Remus removed his fingers from Sirius mouth and placed them back on your needy pussy. The two fingers running up and down your folds before entering your tight hole, his lips attaching to your clit with wanton fervor. 

You knew your rules, Remus made sure of it, so your hands stayed by your sides resisting the urge to card through and pull the warm chocolate strands of his hair. Breathy moans were emitted from your lips at first, before they grew louder and stronger that had Sirius casting a silencing charm on the room. He then busied himself with stripping himself of his remaining clothes before situating himself near your torso, his hand coming up to tug and tweak your pert nipples, pulling more and more moans out of you. 

Remus fingers sped up as did his tongue bringing you closer to the edge, your hips and thighs trembling letting both boys know you were close. 

“Hold it you fucking brat. If you cum, you’re cuming around my cock.” Sirius spat, delivering a harsh slap to your sensitive nipple. 

The request made you whine but you did as you were told, you wanted to make your Daddy happy. Remus continued his torment, lapping at your cunt knowing you’d never be allowed to finish like this. He gave a few more broad licks before pulling away making you cry out and pulling Sirius closer by the back of his neck and connecting their lips. The kiss was short and messy, Remus pulling away to land a smack to his boyfriend’s face before forcing his jaw open and spitting onto his tongue. The taste was intoxicating, both you and Remus intermingled beautifully- Sirius wanted nothing more than to swallow it, so he did. 

The lycanthrope moved aside so Sirius could have his way with you. The aforementioned was grabbing his tie, and turning you over onto your belly so he could have access to your wrists. Remus moved to sit in front of you on the bed, his legs spread in a straddle and his painfully hard prick nearly touching your face. He slowly jerked himself off as Sirius knotted his tie around your wrists skillfully- the harder he tugged the tighter they got. 

Your hips were then pulled up, your back arched, and face shoved into the sheets before Sirius pulled you up by the restraints on your wrists. The counterweight of your body on the restraints had it impossibly tight, making the tips of your fingers go cold from the loss of circulation. Without time for adjustment, Sirius was pounding into from behind and Remus fisting himself to match pace with the boy’s thrusts. 

The first few thrusts were enjoyable, the head of his cock hitting the spot inside you that you seeing stars instantly, and the sight of precum leaking from the appetizing sight of Remus Lupin’s dick right in front of you. But the soon the painful grinding of your wrists along with the loss of circulation in your fingers and painful slapping of Sirius’ skin against the red, raw skin of your backside had tears welling in your eyes- any pleasure was gone.

Remus seemed to notice your change in mood, his hand slowing on his shaft as his eyebrows knit together softly- something wasn’t right. 

Sirius had lost himself again, jaw clenched, eyes trained somewhere else in the room which was unusual in itself- Sirius was always present during sex.

Before Remus could say anything, it was your heartbreaking cry that cut him off.

“Red! Red! Please, stop!” 

Your mind straddled the dangerous fog of subspace and...something else. You felt vulnerable, embarrassed, and afraid you had disappointed your daddies.

Remus was quick to reach over and pull your wrists from Sirius’ grasp, untying his reed and gold tie, before pulling you into his lap as your sobs grew heavier. Sirius seemed to freeze, the safe word being called out with such a pleading and desperate tone had snapped him back to reality in lightning speed. 

“Shh, it’s all ok, love, y’wanna tell Remy and Siri what happened?” Remus cooed, voice gentle as you hid your face in his neck to find some sort of shelter. 

You sniffled, “Jus’ hurt a lot, didn’t feel nice.”

His hand came up to brush your hair away from your face, “Can you tell us what didn’t feel nice, so we know not to do it again?”

“Spankings were too hard, when Siri’s skin was touching mine it hurt, an-and the ties were too tight, m’finger were getting cold...” You words came out slow and mumbled, every few broken by a hiccup or sniffle. 

“Oh, puppy...” 

You recognized the voice as Sirius’ making you turn to look at him. The tears freely flowing down his cheeks made a fresh wall of your own tears build and you started to blubber again.

“M’sorry, I didn’t mean to be bad, promise.” You cried as Sirius slowly climbed up onto the bed, his movements slow and cautious. 

He was worried you’d hate him, that you’d never look at him the same. Sirius hated himself for not recognizing your boundaries and for taking his anger out on you in such a way. 

The way you were apologizing, as if you were at fault, pulled at his heartstrings more as he pulled you into his chest. You gladly wrapped yourself around his body, his arms encircling you. Remus looked up, into Sirius’ eyes, and could see the guilt that was eating him alive, it was eating at Remus too. 

“You did nothing wrong, love. I’m so proud of you for using your safe word when it didn't feel nice, and I’m so sorry, I made you feel like that, baby.”

You felt Remus place his hand on your back, scooting in to wrap his arms around both of you, “I’m sorry I didn’t notice you weren’t enjoying it, darling.”

It was after a few beats with your head in Sirius’ neck, and your hand holding one of Remus’ thumbs that you spoke up again.

“S’not your fault, it’s ok.”

Sirius shook his head, “No, I was in a foul mood because of a run in with Snivellus, and I tried to use you to work through my anger, as if you weren’t a good girl, my good puppy. Forgive me, Y/n.”

“I forgive you, Siri.” You placed a soft kiss on the underside of his jaw before leaning over to pull Remus into a kiss. 

After breaking away Remus suggested, “How about we get some clothes on, and cuddle. Our good girl needs a nap, yeah?”

You feebly nodded making Remus stand up and bring over a shirt of Sirius’ to pull over your head and a pair of his own boxers for you to wear. Sirius helped you into the boxers, folding the waistband so they clung onto your hips better, before getting up himself to put his own underwear on- his hard-on being an issue of the past seeing as the self hatred that plagued him seeing your state did absolutely nothing to arouse him. Remus also pulled on his own pair of plaid boxers. 

Soon you three were all laying in Remus’ bed, you sandwiched in the middle of your two boyfriends. Remus had an arm reached around you and Sirius, rubbing soft circles on the boy’s shoulder blade. Sirius had his hand resting on the side of your face- you were turned toward him- his fingers running along the skin as you were slipping into a peaceful sleep. The last thing you could remember was Remus pressing a loving kiss onto the crown of your head and your thumb running across the soft skin of his exposed hip behind you.

tags:

@amourtentiaa

@vsawyer1989​

@lifeofkaze

@siriusement

@erinblack003

@maybesandohnos

@edithsvoice

@msmb

@maybesandohnos

[keijislove]

Hi babe! I was wondering if I could request a Tony Stark x daughter reader? With lots of angst and her being locked in her room because she’s being bullied for her darker skin

(I understand if you’re not comfortable with this)

Safe Place: Tony Stark X Daughter!Reader

I think this turned out a bit longer than I expected.

Sorry :(

I hope you like this, I don’t really have a lot of experience with this matter, so I hope I captured the emotions right!

I AM APOLOGISING IN ADVANCE, THE HURTFUL COMMENTS MENTIONED HERE ARE NOT ONES I WOULD EVER USE IN MY LIFETIME.

GIRL, YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL JUST THE WAY YOU ARE – YOU DON’T NEED DIMWITS LIKE RACISTS TO DEFINE BEAUTY. YOU WANT THE DEFINITION OF BEAUTY, GO LOOK IN THE MIRROR.

PUT A STOP TO RACISM.

WARNINGS: Slight EXTREMELY racial comments, mentions of death, toxic relationship, angst, Tony being a little... well, Tony.

Being Tony Stark’s daughter was nearly everyone’s dream. Well, everyone you’d come across at school, anyway. It seemed rational from their point of view – big house, big bedroom, expensive branded clothing, basically an overall exquisite lifestyle coupled with fame of being his daughter which was sure to earn popularity points anywhere and everywhere. A man rolling in that amount of money would make a great dad... right?

You thought differently. Which was one of the main reasons you did not tell anyone who your father really was and your teachers understood your predicament and played along to your story of being an ordinary girl with no scope for coolness whatsoever.

Your mother had met your father a long, long time ago – when Tony was still in university. Of course, he’d left her before he even knew she was pregnant, and they never saw each other again. You didn’t exactly love your life as his daughter. In fact, from what your mother had told you, he was (in your vision) a complete monster whom your mother had the sad misfortune to meet.

It was her untimely death that had forced you to go live with the man who was the reason you were born and the man who ruthlessly left your mother to fend for herself and a baby. You had tried for foster care, but the agents told you that your father was still alive and more than capable of taking care of you – being the famous Tony Stark and all.

So it would suffice to say that Tony was lowkey shocked when you turned up at his doorstep one day with a grudging expression and declarations of being his daughter. He actually didn’t believe you at first and asked you to piss off which confirmed your earlier assumptions about his character – asshole. After you’d snapped at him and showed him all the legal documentations stating that you two were blood-related as father-daughter after all, Tony was even more shocked than earlier.

Though he would rather die than admit it, he felt sad after seeing your fourteen-year-old self standing at his doorstep. He’d missed your birth, your first steps, your first words, he even missed helping you with homework in preschool – basically all precious moments you enjoy with a child. But you made it pretty clear that you didn’t want to be here – something that made Tony’s already overlarge pride swell like a bullfrog and stopped him from ever getting close to you. While you were busy thinking he didn’t want you, you overlooked a small detail – he took you in.

If anyone had the power to bribe an adoption agency to get rid of their kid, it was Anthony Stark, yet he never gave you away. The simple explanation (that he would never, in a million years, admit it to you) was that he didn’t want to lose you – around the only blood-related family he had left.

And so began your life as Y/N Stark. It functioned surprisingly well for your expectations. Pepper was really nice to you and those few occasions when the Avengers came over, you were able to talk to Natasha about ‘girl things’, her presence reminding you of the mother you had lost only too young. You sometimes even asked Bruce for help with homework, too proud yourself to go to Tony. Overall, you stayed out of his way while he stayed out of yours – an arrangement you were both satisfied with.

The worst part was that you never talked. Ever. You would wake up and walk to school, refusing Jarvis’ continued protests of letting you use the self-driving car, came home the same way where you did your homework and grabbed a snack before you ‘father’ came back upstairs from his little man cave in the basement and a small ‘good-evening’ passed between you two as you went your separate ways. This cycle repeated itself every day. Recently, your life at school hadn’t been going great.

You’d known that your skin tone was a notch darker than the others at your school – something you had gotten from your mother – and this was not something you really cared about. That’s when they started coming – the comments. What were originally small, snide retorts of ‘wash your face, ew!’ (A/N: I AM SO SORRY) had now escalated to them calling you obscene names you’d never heard before and asking you to leave ‘their’ school

Which was why, instead of being at school today, you were locked in your bedroom, sobbing into your pillow.

It had started out as a very unusual morning. After getting comments hurled at you left right and centre the previous day, you’d had enough. You’d woken up and declared to Jarvis that you were skipping school and he was to, under no circumstances, notify your father about this. After that you tried to eat some cereal, but the bubbling dread in your stomach made it taste like dry carpet, so you gave up and stomped into your room, locking the door before flinging yourself onto the bed and crying your heart out.

It was in times like these that you felt the need for something – a gaping hole in your chest. It seemed foolish to even admit it to yourself, but you really wanted someone like a parent. Someone who listened to your problems and comforted you accordingly, someone who actually cared about you. And since Tony Stark filled neither of these requirements, you gave up the foolish dream and sunk, once again, into your self-fashioned depths of misery.

-------

Tony casually sipped on his wine, putting one last screw into place to make the latest piece he was testing out. As he powered the device on, it vibrated for a moment before the words ‘model failed’ appeared on the screen Tony was examining.

He swore loudly and shoved it ungracefully aside before running his hands through his hair. There had been many an occasion where Tony seriously considered going to your room to just say something to you that wasn’t a monotonous ‘good evening’ or ‘the milk’s finished’ or something else like that. He wanted to talk to you. To you.

He wanted to get to know the real Y/N – what you were like when you weren’t too busy being bold and refusing to appear vulnerable. As if reading his thoughts, Jarvis’ voice filled the room suddenly.

“Sir, I do believe that Ms Stark is currently locked inside her bedroom. She refused to go to school just this morning.”

“What?” Tony exclaimed, “Why, did she tell you anything else?”

“Just this, Sir, along with a few obscene warnings of not informing you about this occurrence. If I recall correctly, Ms Stark told me she would rip out my sockets with her bare hands had I come to you.”

Ignoring the small smirk that was growing on his lips at the thought of you behaving exactly as he would, Tony wiped his tired hands on a nearby cloth before sprinting out the door and up the stairs to your bedroom.

He knocked on the door.

“Go away Pepper, not in the mood,” came your muffled voice. It was weak and raw – evidently, you had been crying.

Ignoring the poking feeling of dread bubbling in his stomach, Tony knocked again.

“Open up, kid, it’s me,” he shouted.

“Definitely not in the mood, thanks.”

Tony sighed. This was exactly what he had tried so hard to avoid –turning out like his own father. Not knowing how to deal with a daughter properly, he just let you go about your business as you wanted, hoping that it would yield better results than what his childhood had been like. Now, looking back at how much he’d neglected you, he suddenly realised that he had done the exact thing he was afraid of – hurt you.

“Y/N Y/M/N Stark, open the door. Please.”

Perhaps it was the please at the end or the way he acknowledged you as his living, breathing daughter for the first time that made you stagger limply over to the door and push it open.

Your eyes were puffy, red and swollen from bawling nonstop and your brows were knitted into a disapproving frown. It broke Tony’s heart to see you like this.

“Listening,” you sniffed, crossing your arms.

“Okay, why don’t you sit down,” Tony frowned slightly.

You gave another hearty sniff and led him to your bed where you flopped down and watched as he took a seat beside you.

You both sat in a very painful, deafening silence for the next few minutes.

“You didn’t go to school today,” Tony casually remarked as you played with your pillow, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I did,” you said simply.

“Wanna tell me what’s going on?” Tony offered.

“I really don’t,” you admitted as he burst out laughing and you gave a grudging giggle despite yourself.

“Seriously, kid,” Tony said in an undertone, “You’ve gotta open up a bit more. I mean, it’s been like what, two years since you moved here and you never bother telling me what’s going on. And look where that got you – come on, tell me what’s going on. Is it school?”

“Partially,” you quietly said to which he cocked an eyebrow.

“Completely,” you amended, sighing, “Kids, you know, they’re just being – well, mean.”

“Okay,” Tony nodded slightly, “You want to talk about it?”

“They... they make fun of me,” you admitted, “About – about my skin colour and stuff. And I know I’m being stupid, getting upset over this –”

“It’s not stupid,” Tony broke in, “It’s not stupid at all. Nothing gives anyone a right to talk to you that way.”

“Try telling that to them!” you burst out, final letting go of the pent-up emotions you’d been holding for days, “What did I ever do to them – it’s not my fault I look like this, maybe if I could choose what to look like, I’d choose something they want! Just about everyone seems to have a problem – what the hell do they expect me to do? It’s unjust, unfair, unsettling and unkind, but of course they don’t care, do they?!”

Tony didn’t even flinch throughout your entire outburst until you broke down and tears began rapidly pouring out of your eyes once more.

“Hey, hey, stop, listen to me,” Tony sternly said, seizing your shoulders and turning you to face him.

“You’re a Stark,” he said, gazing you dead in the eyes, “You are beautiful, you’re smart and you’re kind. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

This was too much for you to handle and you started sobbing again – sobs of partial happiness and partial guilt that didn’t look like they would stop anytime soon.

“Come here, kid,” was all Tony could say as he pulled you into a hug, allowing you to sob into his shirt while he stroked your hair, trying to calm you down.

“I’m sorry if I’ve ever been mean to you,” you whispered finally.

“It’s okay, kid,” Tony murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I’m sorry I haven’t been a great father all this time.”

You two sat in a now comfortable silence, occasionally clearing your throats or sniffling a bit before Tony finally spoke.

“If anyone says that to you again, I will have them cut up and fed to the fish in my house in Malibu.”

“Thanks, dad.”

[hubbie22]

Here is an ask well half an ask from the lovely @meddowscrl please don’t hate me 🥺 I just can’t do happy endings. I tried, I just couldn’t. I can only do angst. I like to suffer ~nervous laughter intensified~ Also, please excuse the writing, I have a respiratory infection and am heavily medicated.

You were happy, weren’t you?

“I want a divorce.”

You stare at him, you had only asked if he wanted to change the drapes. And the answer, turned your world upside down. He had been your boyfriend since 1968, your husband since 1972 and yet with one sentence he was now nothing.

“The drapes, I just wanted to change the drapes.” You mutter out like a hapless child.

“We haven’t been good for months.” He looks at you, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses.

“We haven’t?” Since when haven’t you two been good? Since when haven’t you two shared one brain cell? That was news to you.

Roger stands firms, flicking his long hair back. “No, Y/N.” He sighs, “We haven’t been us for months.”

“Is there someone else?” You look at him, searching for something. “You promised me. You promised me.” The words come out like a chant or mantra, what you held onto when he was on the road. A promise from another lifetime ago.

He sighs, as if he wants to tell you the truth. But he looks at you, and he sees the brokenness he caused. And he can’t bare to make it worse. So, he lies.

“No.”

You walk past him, and he grabs your hand and you think for a moment he will tell you he change his mind. But he hasn’t, and you tear yourself away from him trudging up the staircase.

“Y/N, this has been a long time coming. I’m not happy…. I’m not happy with you anymore.”

“A long time coming for who?” You can’t even look at him while you are packing your things. Most of which, he bought you. So, you only bring what you can into this relationship with yourself. “For you? Because I was happy.” There are tears streaming down your face, like a waterfall, “And I thought we were happy, it’s news to me that we aren’t. And that’s we haven’t been for sometime. Or maybe that you haven’t been.”

You sit across from him in a London high-rise, a wood table between you two and armed with a divorce lawyer. It happened fast, or maybe you were out of it the last few months.

You looked over at Roger, his hair was shorter the last time you saw him.

He stopped by your new apartment to drop off things you left, you could remember his shocked face when you open the door. You heard rustling outside and curiously you opened the door to see Roger crouched down, putting a box by your door. Blue eyes meet yours, and it was like time hadn’t passed. And maybe that’s why you treated it that way, maybe that’s why you went with the old routine. And you wonder if it was the gleam in his eyes, that let you believe that there was something to hold onto; that hope remained.

“Just some bits and bobs of yours.” Roger said, fumbling his keys in his hand.

“Thanks, Rog.” You can’t move from the door frame, the gaze y’all shared unbroken. Years of memories dancing between tha gaze. The squeal of the kettle you put on earlier makes the both of you jump.

“Cuppa? I still have your favorite biscuits.” You couldn’t stop yourself from buying them. It was just normal. And sometimes normal in this new word you didn’t know, was what you needed to sleep at night.

“Really?!” His blue eyes light up, and you motion for him to come in. Staying for tea was a dangerous thing, an old and easy routine. It was weird being so comfortable with someone, who was leaving you behind. Funny how the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Maybe it was because of the easiness of it all, that you left yourself fall back into the comfort of it all. As of you two were old friends, not two lovers frayed at the seams. Because of that easiness, you let yourself entertain a thought that maybe you could save your marriage. Put back the broken pieces into something recognizable, but it wasn’t enough. The yearning, the reminiscing of old times through the stuff he brought to you somehow turned into fumbled kisses and clothes thrown around haphazardly. It was something you thought would change the course of where your life was going. Instead of reconciling, it turned into Roger sneaking out when he thought you were asleep. It turned into your lawyer, letting you know Roger wanted you to have more than you asked for. It turned into more resentment and hurt from you, how he could use you and then leave you. How could he so easily but all those years together aside? It turned into something that shouldn’t have happened. And it turned into something that would stay with you forever. A funny word forever, because forever never is forever.

“Sign this, and your divorced will be finalized. All assets obtained during the marriage have been split, due to Mr. Taylor’s wishes.” Your lawyer says looking at you, sliding the papers across, while Roger’s lawyer speaks, “You will be comfortable, and well off Y/N. My client has been more than generous. In fact, I’ve never seen a settlement this amicable from the side of the main breadwinner .”

You sign the papers without any words, you don’t even look at Roger. You realize as you sign on the dotted line, this will be the last time you will use the surname you used for years. Funny how something you thought would never change, would be stagnant in your life just fades away. You then pass the papers across the table back to Roger’s lawyer, you watch as the lawyer slides the papers over to Roger for his signature.

And when Roger takes the paper, you stop breathing you wonder if his mind will change at the eleventh hour. But, he signs it without any hesitation. It’s a fluent and flawless movement, very unlike Roger- really. Part of you breaks at that, it was like he didn’t care he was closing the door on years of his life. Closing the door on you.

You stand up, smoothing out your wide legged pant suit. After the divorce, you had dipped your toes back into the world of working for a living. Putting that masters degree in business to use, and now it was time to separate yourself from the last of the rock n roll lifestyle you loved. And you turn to walk away, high heels on the marble floor when someone grabs your wrist turning you around.

“Take care of yourself, Y/N.” Roger looks at you with concern in his blue eyes. And you wonder if it’s for the friend he was losing, and not the marriage he let go of so easily.

You look at him, “I will. Don’t forget to wear your glasses, we both know you are blind. Don’t forget to call your mum once in while, she misses you. And try not to get so angry at the boys, they mean well.”

“Even after everything I’ve done, you don’t hate me.” You spot something in his eyes, you can’t put a name too. An emotion that seems out of place, it was almost looked like guilt and forlorn.

“I told you a long time ago, I could never hate you. No matter how much, I may want too. I just can’t.”

“You are too good, Y/N. I’ve forgot to remind myself of that. Maybe that’s why…” he drifts off, “Even those daft band mates of mine agreed. Never let me forget it. But, Im sure they are out to drive me mad!” He says with a small smirk.

“With the drum sets you destroy, I doubt the plan to make you mad.” You make a small sound, something between a strangled “hmph” and snort in retort.

“Same old, Y/N.”

“By the way, I have something to-”

“Roggiee!” A voice like a bell cuts through the hushed words you tell him.

You both turn to see a girl, or really a woman bounding toward y’all. And you look toward Roger, and you see the look in his eyes. A look that used to be reserved for you. And it clicked, the guilty look etched in his eyes, not even moments ago. The guilty look he wore that night. The whole reason your world was being upended and ruined. It was for her.

The bitterness filled you up, the way he could so easily toss you aside. The look you threw at Roger was one of pure resentment and unbridled rage.

“You lied.” Your hushed words, that come out through clinched teeth drip with a malice.

He looks at you with wide eyes, as if he was trying to shelter you from the truth. And you see that damned look again. “Y/N, please. I just couldn’t tell you.”

But before you can answer, she comes up with a smile on her pink lips and a twinkle in her dark brown eyes. “You must be, Roggie’s lawyer! I’m Gwen.” She smiles at you. And her smile is sickly sweet, and almost innocent.

It makes you want to scream, to throw something, to do something other than what you are doing.

“I’m Y/N, actually.” You extend your hand to her. Her eyes go wide, and she looks at Roger, who goes to her side immediately.

“Y/N, please listen.” He hold onto her side, and the whiteness of his knuckles against the material of her dark dress don’t go unnoticed by you. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with her.”

Gwen chimes in, “We honestly tried to stay away from each other, we just couldn’t. We were drawn to each other.”

If you weren’t so bitter, hurt, and angry perhaps the romantic side of you would find that notion tragic. You had read about it in books, and always rooted for the star-crossed lovers. But, now you were the collateral damage, you were the woman scorned.

“When we decided that what we had was something, I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t tell you that I was in love with someone else, when you were there from the start. I just didn’t want you to find out after I got back from tour-”

“He couldn’t see you broken like that.” Gwen finishes for him.

You can’t even begin to comprehend the information given, you were gobsmacked. You were completely barred raw, for everyone is this godforsaken lobby to see. And because of that, you selfishly did not want to see how genuinely happy he looked with someone else. Someone who wasn’t you. So, you used the words you knew would cut him to the bone. “So, you thought it was better to make me believe it was my fault you weren’t happy. That I was ignorantly living in one sided marital bliss, while you were falling in love with someone else? While you were planning to leave, I was planning for a life with you?” Your eyes are blazing, your face hot with rage, “You thought it was better to make me believe I was the problem? I can’t believe you! After everything I did for you? After putting my life on hold for you?! This is how you repay me? I deserved the truth, but you, the both of you took that from me.”

“I just-” He sighs, “I just wanted to be happy again, and when I’m with Gwen I’m happy. And I was going to tell you, I was going to tell you that day with the drapes. But, you then you uttered that damn promise. And what was I supposed to do? How could I break my best friend? I’ve always been the asshole to everyone, but you.”

“I love you.”

You look at Roger, his long blonde hair disheveled with bright blue eyes. “I love you too, you are my friend. My very best friend.” You bump your shoulder against his, and let out a giggle.

“I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

You stare at him wide eyed, “Oh.”

“I have been for sometime.”

“Rog, I love you too. But, that doesn’t mean I want to date you. I know how you are, you will grow bored of me and find someone else. And love is sweet, but it’s not your nature. I don’t think I have it in me to me hate you, or to lose you. Please don’t make me lose my best friend.”

“You don’t get it, Y/N.” He looks at you like you hung the moon, and you like it. You crave that look. “I don’t want anyone else, it’s you. And I think it’s always been, and always will be you.”

“You promise? You promise it’s only me forever?” You bite your lip and stick out your pinky finger, like you had done so many times growing up.

“I cross my heart and hope to die.” He says as he raises your intertwined pinkies up to kiss it.

“And in that moment, I was back in Truro laughing with a curly haired little girl, and then I was in uni with that same girl, who was my best friend, I saw that girl. And, I couldn’t do that to her.”

You look at him, your face cold as stone. “I’m still that girl, I haven’t changed. You have. And that’s okay, it’s okay the change that’s life.”

That is how it ends, with a look of heartbreak on your face as the elevator doors close on the sight before you. And when the doors open, and you are greeted by the sight of the lobby. You realize, you didn’t even tell him what you wanted too.

Would it change anything?

[goddess-pan]

Tailor!Reader in Dream SMP

Dsmp x reader prompt; Tailor!Reader in Dream SMP. Credit would be appreciated so more people can find this and make their own things based on it.

Can fully be read as platonic. GN!reader with they/them pronounce as a placeholder so anyone can adapt it however they want. Both general and character specific parts included.

Characters who have a lot written for/about; Eret, Ranboo, Foolish, Tommy, Technoblade, Philza and Michael. Mentioned; Tubbo, Sam Nook, Purpled and Foolish Jr.

This ended up being super long so I’m putting it under the cut in order not to clutter people’s pages. My personal favourite part is Phil’s and Techno’s part. These could be read as headcanons but are still available as a prompt(s) to use for anyone.

------------------------------

The reader joining after the doomsday as a time frame in my mind.

The reader helping people patch up their current clothes since most of it got pretty banged up during the doomsday, and it's not like they can just go get a new outfit since quite a few people had just lost all their belongings and only had the clothes on their back. So at first prioritizing helping patch up the current clothing people were wearing and then moving on to making some simple fast to make and easy on the resources clothes for people. Just like basic shirts and shorts/pants, nothing fancy. Then when everyone has at least a couple of different clothes to change to and from starting their own business to sell people more if they wanted. However waving payment if they brought them the materials and what they wanted wasn't overly complicated.

People at first thinking they are just some chump who knows basic sewing or something. A very kind chump, but still a chump. So imagine their surprise when one day they are just walking by the reader's now established tailors and they see these absolutely stunning designs displayed at the windows. 

Just like their reactions seeing these beautiful designs they can't help but stare at. I'd imagine some of them just doing a double take when they walk by, someone pressing their face up to the glass trying to see it closer, the braver ones going inside and talking to the reader about their designs and the more anxious and/or shy ones only going inside when the reader isn't there to look at designs closer. 

And the reasons they like/are amazed by the designs vary also ! Some just have monkey brain that goes "Pretty. WANT", some who just love the colour and art of the pieces, some who imagine how epic this design or others would look on them, some who love the fashion aspect of it and of course the very small portion who actually know anything about tailoring/sewing and the amount of work that goes into making something intricate.

Some specific character/group interactions I thought of;

Making warm well insulated clothes for people moving to Snowchester so they don't freeze. +A warm cape for Ranboo for the same reason.

Eret being one of the firsts (if not the first) to get himself a fully tailored and customized outfit. Them also being the first and very possibly only person to get a dress or a skirt since most of the other people on the server prefer to wear pants (excluding maid dresses which people might get as joke). The reader crying in joy for getting to design something different for once. And hey if the reader ends up making a few extra ones that she didn't order, but decided to give her anyway it was all just some extra ones they had lying around, never mind the fact that the dresses/skirts are perfectly tailored for Eret and are her style. Just a coincidence, nothing suspicious there. Eret also models for the reader and once he even convinced them to hold a fashion show to showcase some of their work to the whole server. Of course he was the main model presenting the outfits.

At start of the reader beginning to display their designs at their shop Ranboo sees a really cool looking suit on display and his brain just goes "Want." He probably wouldn't be able to buy anything pre-made and be comfortable in it due to his physique. And him having just moved into the arctic and only starting to get settled in, he doesn't have comfortable enough funds for him to get something as expensive as a custom tailored suit AND have enough for any possible rent that he might be required to pay. 

Eventually when he gets richer he starts considering getting one but the anxious side of him always ends up winning and he doesn't. However once he finally gets the courage to go commission the suit for himself he doesn't regret it at all. The reader did their best to not overwhelm him and to make it the best possible experience. Just imagining the absolute joy he would feel for having a properly fitting suit that's made just for him, not too short sleeves nor too wide torso and shoulders, just perfect. If he ends up ordering a couple more suits that's between him and the reader. He actually ends up probably being their most frequent and reliable customer.

And we should all know why that is, but let me clarify just in case; Michael.

The reader basically becoming Michael's personal stylist (/hj) . Not only does Ranboo buy a god awful amount of clothes for Michael, the reader also makes some free ones for him. The free ones are things the reader felt like designing since they absolutely adore Michael and the ones Ranboo pays for are commissioned by him. Michael absolutely has the biggest wardrobe in the whole server. The reader learning how to make plushies so Michael could have some more toys, this learning experience including learning to crochet and knit to see what he like best.

Using their newly acquired plush making skills, the reader starts their quest to make some plushies for others after seeing people stare at the plushies wistfully either while they were working on them or seeing Michael with the plushies. People who got them include the minors, their close friends and basically anyone they thought might benefit from them. Some of the ones they made (that I could think of);

Of course a bee for Tubbo, but also throwing in a little ram one as well

Ranboo gets a grass block plush/pillow

Tommy gets a cobblestone block plush and a cow plush. He also later receives a Sam Nook plush while he's working on the hotel

Purpled getting two different sized ufos, one to hold and the other more of a big pillow

Eret definitely gets a flamingo plush

Foolish gets a totem and a gold block plushies

Phil gets crow plush as well these tiny fake coin and gem plushies (the latter causes problems for him which I'll expand upon later)

Techno gets a pig one as well as polar bear one

Back to the individual/group part

The reader just chilling w/ Foolish as a fellow artists. Them talking about both their arts and catching up every time the reader comes to deliver something to Snowchester when Foolish is building the mansion. Just two pretty peaceful artists talking about their passions. I’d imagine Foolish and the reader could relate to each other and their place in the server due to their similar hobbies/jobs as well as their similar time of joining the server. Foolish's first commission from them being an intricate blanket for Foolish Jr so he could have a more comfortable resting place. He may or may not end up receiving that and several other (though less intricate) blankets as well as a tiny shark plush to give to Foolish Jr. Later on when the reader gets better at either knitting or crocheting they end up making a tiny shark jumper with a hood for Foolish Jr as well. Foolish would definitely cry when he sees his tiny shark baby. Any commissions of clothes for himself tend to always take some time due to sheer amount of work needing to be done due to his size so he always makes sure the reader doesn’t already have a lot on their plate and that they know he’s fine with waiting if they need to take a break from it.

Then there's Tommy, who they sometimes teach more about sewing since he already knows some basics. Him probably being the first person aside from Michael they make a plush for, due to him demanding one once he saw the reader making them. Then proceeding to get three plushies in rapid succession. The first being the cobblestone, the second being the cow and the third one being the Sam Nook one. He ends up losing one of them during the prison fiasco and when the reader asks if he'd like a new one they only get the answer of "Don't want to think about what happened and the same one might make me do that". He then promptly receives new clothing (so he isn't wearing the same ones he was wearing in prison) and some extra blankets (for comfort) from the reader. 

After Tommy meeting Michael does he use him to scam the reader to make them matching outfits for free? Yes, yes he does. Does it work? Yes, yes it does. Are they bothered by it? Not really, they look adorable in their matching outfits.

The reader being the source for Sam Nook's construction gear/clothes or at least the original patterns for them.

And then there's the arctic boys (minus Ranboo, who will still get mentioned) who are an interesting bunch clothing wise. The first one to commission the reader out of them would be Phil who got the original warm cape for Ranboo but also at the same time commissioned one for himself that would include slits for his wings. Eventually getting to design clothing for him which is always an exciting challenge with his wings. And when Phil finally manages to convince Techno to get something made for himself as well, Techno almost immediately gets addicted to having high quality clothing when they finish their first piece for him. The fun the reader has designing clothes for these boys is immeasurable with their different styles and needs in the clothing. Aside from clothing Techno also commissions them for a pet bed for Steve. 

When the boys got their plushies it was adorable but also a very chaotic. Techno giving his pig one to Steve so he wouldn't miss him when he was away from home, but also bringing the polar bear one with him when he couldn't or wasn't allowed to bring Steve with him but still needed comfort. While on Phil's side of things; he was showing his crows the crow plushie joking about he'll replace them if they aren't careful however he made the mistake of showing them the tiny coin and gem plushies as well. I want you to imagine hundreds of crows descending upon this poor fool of a man in the background while the reader is walking away hoping they like their plushies. 

The war that ensued the couple following days amongst the crows starts to cool down but the bickering doesn't, every waking moment Phil can feel eyes on him and one or more of the crows coming to complain about the others having had the shiny plushies for too long. He quickly caves under the pressure and commissions more of the tiny shiny treasure plushies. And by more I mean a lot more. 

When he finally has enough of the things he goes around distributing them to the crows. Finally a moment of peace, but he still feels like something is staring at him occasionally. Deciding to ignore it since it's finally quiet he goes to makes himself a cup of tea and while waiting for the water to boil he fishes out the few shiny plushies he had saved for himself. The second he does he feels eyes burning into him and now that it's quiet he hears it, quiet muffled snuffles and snorts of discontent. Then he sees what ‘it’ is, it's Techno behind the window looking at the shinies in his hand with such intensity Phil fears for his life (/hj). Phil just sighs deeply before walking over to the window and opening it. For a second Techno looks like a deer in headlights before returning to intensely staring at the shinies in Phil's hand before Phil just dumps the shiny plushies into Techno's hand and closes the window. Happy piglin noises can be heard outside while Phil debates the pros (getting to have shinies himself) and cons (the embarrassment of having to commission even more of the shiny plushies than he already has) of getting new ones from the reader. And in all this the reader has no idea the amount of chaos they inadvertently caused.

And finally; Techno commissioning robes/cloaks for whole the Syndicate to wear in their meetings, because he’s dramatic like that. But since he’s a thoughtful guy, he wants them all to fit the members well and not be uncomfortable to wear so he gets everyone’s measurements. Once he has them all he goes to the reader with the order for the robes, he has all the measurements written down under just Person 1, Person 2 etc. to keep their anonymity and when asked what the robes are for he just tells the reader it’s a book club. When he gets them all and the reader asks no further questions he thinks he’s gotten away with getting some cool robes for the Syndicate with their secrets safe. Little does he know the reader actually now knows all the members in the Syndicate since they can just reference the gotten measurements with everyone’s measurements written down from previous work done by them. Whether the reader thinks it’s some weird cult they all are a part of or just an actual book club people are too embarrassed to admit they are in, is up to interpretation. 

[ohnococo]

A Mess | Zeke x F!Reader x Reiner

Summary: You and Zeke sleep together from time to time, even though he knows Reiner has a thing for you. Eventually he decides to do something about it. (MODERN AU)

Warnings: Sleazy Zeke, Sex, Cumshots, Threesome, FWB

MINORS DNI/18+ ONLY UNDER THE CUT

Zeke had this innate ability to just make things messy in a way that favored him perfectly. He’d done it with you - starting out as friends with benefits and progressing that into something a little more shameless that had your whole friend group seeming a little tense about you two potentially dating, knowing none of Zeke’s trysts lasted long. He was doing it again now, albeit this one had been a much slower build up. He’d been stoking this fire from before the two of you had even begun fucking, in fact.

He saw the way Reiner always looked at you, the schoolboy crush he’d harbored from way back when he was, well, an actual schoolboy. Except now he was very much a grown man and was very much still squandering every opportunity he’d had to get with you.

Zeke knew what Reiner was like, what reservations and morals the younger man had that he certainly did not share. When Zeke had finally made the move to kiss you in front of your friends - or rather next to them while you were all on the couch during a movie - Reiner hadn’t been pushed into action. No pulling you aside for a sudden confession of love, or plea to give him a chance. Instead, Reiner seemed to decide that instead of it being now, it was going to be never. The idea of two long-time friends of a close knit group dating was already a bit awkward for everyone, you all were never the type for love triangles and unnecessary drama, there was no way Reiner would add an attempt to date you to that awkwardness. A girl dating one of her old guy friends is one thing, romantic even if it all works out, but a girl dating two - meaning most - of her guy friends leaves a bad impression. That’s what Zeke figured Reiner had reasoned, at least.

Messy bitch that he is though, Zeke decided to test Reiner’s resolve at being the noble martyr, tortured by his unrequited love that was all his own doing. Maybe he would lighten up a bit more too. So Zeke did small things to set the wheels in motion, making plans with the two of you to play a board game or watch a show then finding some excuse to leave suddenly half way through. Pretending to be much more drunk than he is while setting you on Reiner’s lap at a party, exaggeratedly slurring out, “Keep an eye on her while I go piss. She’s a wily one.”

Through it all Reiner was respectful as ever: hands to himself except for sliding you off his lap to take his seat while he stood and waited for Zeke to return, never even entertaining making a move on you. It drove Zeke up a fucking wall, especially when Reiner would end the nights he’d been stranded at your house (while Zeke feigned some sudden need to pick up Eren and drop him off at his dorm) with a text to Zeke at a nauseatingly sensible 9:30.

Reiner: Hey just got home. hope Eren’s didn’t puke in your car again lol

Reiner was big, Reiner was beefy, and Reiner was a fucking coward. Zeke didn’t know why he cared so much. Maybe because he was always trying to show his friends he was better than them in some way or another and Reiner had just taken it on the chin. Maybe it was because he felt a little bad for fucking around with someone who had been a dear friend, he didn’t intend for this to go anywhere after all, and Reiner did really like you. Zeke would never admit it if it was indeed the second one, though, so he just decided to get messier.

It was easy enough with the three of you being the only ones in the group to have the shared interest of board games. So he invited you both over to his place to try out a new game he’d gotten. You and Reiner chalked up Zeke’s smug demeanor to him showing off another overly-complicated board game he’d surely win despite playing it for the first time. Really, it was the undeniable feeling that tonight would be fun keeping Zeke in such high spirits.

One game in - that Zeke won of course - and he’d already managed to coax Reiner into drinking. Just a beer to start the game, then one more to keep it going. He wasn’t getting wasted by any means, not a man his size, but Zeke knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t have a third beer and drive. So while Reiner set the board up to start again, Zeke gave him another beer, clearing the table of old drinks and setting the new one down casually enough that his friend wasn’t even thinking about how he’d get home after finishing off the new drink.

The game went by, Reiner went through another bottle, and as Zeke was satisfied with winning again he decided to bring this part of the evening to a close.

“I’ve had enough of winning for tonight. The two of you will have to have a 1v1 on your own sometime to catch up with me.” Zeke teased, packing away the little pieces.

Reiner is quick to respond, “Pretty cocky for a guy who still can’t win at Sorry.”

Zeke takes the bait, only because he wants Reiner feeling confident for later. “Only because that game is pure luck.”

“Sure it is.” Reiner stands and stretches, grabbing his bottle to put with Zeke’s recycling. “Anyway, I should head out now, it’s getting late.”

“Not after four beers you shouldn’t.” You warn, Zeke can’t hide the way the corners of his mouth turn up, you did always pay awfully close attention to Reiner, didn’t you?

“Shit, you’re right - mind if I stay in your guest bedroom?”

Zeke shrugs, no stranger to having one of his friends crashing at his house, “Go right ahead.”

“Thanks.”

-

Zeke is quick to get you alone, and you only half push him away as he begins kissing at the spot on your neck that has heat building in your stomach as soon as you’re both in his bedroom. He’d made sure to leave his door cracked, and made sure to pick you up and lie you down on the bed before you noticed. As you sigh at his touch he decides he’s waited long enough for the main event, pulling your pants and underwear off in one rough motion and burying his face between your legs.

“Zeke, stop it.” He knows your protests are hollow, your hands coming down to tangle in his hair rather than push him away. His tongue works its way gently but purposefully through your folds, just barely brushing over your clit before working his way back to tease at your entrance. Your moan is only half out before you’re clasping your hands over your mouth, looking down at him and laughing. “At least wait until Reiner’s asleep.”

He smirks up at you and makes a deal, knowing you don’t understand the full extent of it and know he won’t be losing anyway. “If he’s not asleep in ten minutes, that’s his problem.”

You think for a moment, biting your lip, but as he locks his lips around your clit you’re not really in a position to protest as you rock your hips up against his face.

Zeke goes easy on you, sort of, he refrains from sliding his fingers in your tight little hole while he laps at your swollen clit - and he at least listens when you ask him to slow down for a second, giving you the chance to catch your breath and keep yourself from getting to the point where you can’t control the noises you make, but you were still getting steadily louder. The ten minutes go by slowly for the both of you, as Zeke teases at your most sensitive spots, until you’re glistening beneath him. His wait is over as he kisses his way up your body, pulling your shirt up and off as he goes until his lips meet yours.

“It’s time.”

You’re too far gone to pick up that hint of something else in Zeke’s voice as he flips you over so you’re on your stomach facing the door and he’s quickly in place behind you, pulling you onto all fours. You’re too ready for his cock to pay attention to how loud his soft slap on your ass is before he pulls off his pants and rifles through his bedside drawer for a condom. You turn your head to watch him as he slides it on, arching your back so he can get an eyeful of your awaiting pussy. He’s not feeling gentle or merciful tonight, and that doesn’t seem to be what you want anyway as you groan at the feel of his cock stretching you wide as he enters and bottoms out inside of you in one smooth motion.

Zeke knows you’re holding back though, doing your very best to stifle the noises he’s forcing from you as his cock slides against your walls just right, and that’s not what he wants. He slaps your ass again, hard, and you keen before getting a hold of yourself to send him a look of warning over your shoulder.

“You think Reiner’s still awake to listen to how good you sound when I fuck you?” You tighten around him, pussy fluttering at the thought, and that gives Zeke the final push to do just what he’d intended. “Do you want to find out?”

There’s no time to think about the implications of his question, as Zeke wraps his arm around your waist, hoisting you up so your back is pressed to his chest as he sets a brutal pace.

“Reiner!” Zeke’s voice booms, and this time when you’re pussy clenches around him he knows it’s not just due to the pleasure coursing through you. “Reiner, come here!”

“Zeke-”

“Shh…” He brings the hand that was previously gripping your hip tightly up to cup your face, rubbing his thumb over your lips, “He knows what we’re doing. If he doesn’t want to see it he’ll stay in bed.”

You’re blushing, equal measures embarrassed and aroused, and the wait only makes your heart beat faster. A few moments of what was no doubt tortuous conflict passes and you hear the door to the room next to Zeke’s open slowly, followed by another long moment before Zeke’s door is pushed open fully.

“See, I knew you weren’t that much of a coward, Reiner.” Zeke’s voice is straining from how hard he’s fucking you, and how excited he is to have his plan come perfectly together as Reiner locks eyes with you.

He looks you over slowly as none of you speak, watching your tits bounce as you take Zeke, swallowing hard at the sight of your slick dripping down your thighs, ears ringing at the sound of skin on sin. He’s already hard and tenting his boxer briefs, hair already disheveled from tossing and turning in bed as he listened to you try and fail to stay silent. Zeke is happy to let him watch, but he decides he wants him to do something more than just stand there like a lost dog.

“Well?” Reiner is snapped from his daze and looks at Zeke as if he’d only thought about him being there. “Are you going to do something about it?”

Reiner looks at you, and your soft cry of his name thrusts him into motion as he comes to join the two of you on the bed. He cups your face in his hands, kissing you and drinking in your moans as your pussy flutters around Zeke’s cock. Reiner is soft, so soft compared to how hard you’re being fucked, but intense as he groans into your mouth and bites at your bottom lip. He pulls away to breathe, but only for a moment before he’s working his way to your neck to leave all the marks he’d dreamt of gifting you with for years. His hands are quick to find your clit, rubbing soft circles as Zeke continues to work at you from inside, and your hands quickly reach for his cock in turn.

“So big…” you sigh, savoring the feeling of running your hands over his thick cock through his underwear, before pushing them down as far as you can reach with Zeke pulling you into his thrusts. Thankfully, it’s far enough to free Reiner’s cock and you shiver in Zeke’s grasp as it rubs against your stomach while Reiner presses his body to yours. You barely have your fingers wrapped around him before he’s thrusting up into your hand, already groaning, already close - you wonder for a moment if he’d already been touching himself to the sounds of you.

Zeke would guess yes, and can’t help getting his sly little digs in even as the two of you do exactly as he’d intended, “Close already? Good thing I’m here to satisfy her.”

Reiner doesn’t take that easily, working your clit faster and the way your pussy grips Zeke has him hurling closer to the edge right along with you both. Reiner breathes his words into your skin, sending shivers through you again and again, “Cum for me… cum with me…”

You do, and both of your work against each other stutters as you cum together, Reiner painting your stomach as your pussy threatens to undo Zeke right along with you. He holds on, however, fucking you through your orgasm as Reiner thrusts into your hand until the last of his cum is covering your soft skin and the fluttering of your pussy slows.

Zeke pulls out and releases you, sending you forward and into Reiner’s waiting arms as he pulls off his condom and finishes himself off on your ass, adding his mess to the mix as well. Reiner keeps kissing you, rubbing your back, smiling at the way you shiver when Zeke begins rubbing his cum into your skin.

“That was…” Reiner starts, then stops, looking into your eyes and trying to parse what just happened.

Zeke doesn’t want to give him too much time to think, knowing that just leads to more annoyance with Reiner, so instead he lies down, pulling you with him. “The bed’s big enough for three.”

Reiner pauses, still thinking instead of doing, until you’re patting the space on the bed next to you. “C’mon, Reiner, lets get some rest.”

For you, he’ll listen to anything, something Zeke huffs at as you rest your head on his shoulder, and your hand on Reiner’s chest. You’re first to fall asleep, and Reiner lies there staring at you dreamily, finally basking in the moment for once. Then, it’s Zeke’s turn to think, and think too much as he considers just what he might have started. He wasn’t sure what he felt, not quite jealousy… but not victory either. He felt smug, but also like he’d gotten himself in over his head. Maybe he wanted Reiner here for different reasons than he’d originally thought. Maybe he wanted you for different reasons than he’d originally thought too. Zeke closes his eyes and decides everyone’s had enough thinking for the day, deciding to sleep before he dwelled too long on the mess he’d made.

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 18

Masterlist

Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤ Make sure you read Roman Profile, set in the same universe!

Word Count: 7.6k

Abu Dhabi holds a special place in Pierre's heart. The food is great, the views are spectacular, and there is always plenty to do to keep him busy. Night races are some of the more exciting races too and Pierre appreciated the variety.

Coming into the final race of the season, Pierre holds on to seventh in the championship by a few points. Perez sensed the usurper creeping up on his seat and had cranked it up to eleven. 

Exams had kept you in London for the race in Brazil, where Pierre had finished sixth and Checo DNF'd. You had managed to fly out for the weekend in Saudi Arabia, where Perez had finished fifth and closed the gap to Pierre to only four points behind. 

If Pierre didn't finish ahead of Perez this weekend, he was fucked. And he was at the distinct disadvantage of his good luck charm being absent, stuck in London finishing up your final few exams of the semester. Two weeks without seeing you coupled with barely hearing from you had worn on him. It wasn't purposeful on your part but Pierre's stress was already compressed like the suspension on his car. Stray an inch too far over the racing line, hit a curb too hard and it was liable to snap, sending bits and pieces flying.

Pierre checks his phone for the millionth time as he waits to check in to the hotel. Wednesday was late for this many crew members to be arriving. His main concern though was that you hadn't responded to the text he'd sent you upon landing.

"Look lively, will you?" Max claps Pierre on the shoulder and he slides his phone into his pocket. "It's the last race of the season. We get to go balls to the wall and leave it all out in the track. And here you are looking like a kicked puppy."

"Easy for you to say," Pierre starts, grinning at his friend. "You clinched the title weeks ago. You don't even have to race this weekend if you don't want to and you'd still win."

"Doesn't mean I won't be shooting for a podium."

Pierre rolls his eyes. "Yeah well we can't all be so lucky, can we?"

"Next year you'll be playing with the big dogs." Max hands the receptionist his ID, says a few words and turns back to Pierre. "Looking forward to having you as a teammate again. It was fun for those couple races and I'm sure you'll be a challenge now that you've found your groove."

"You're gonna jinx it if you keep talking." Pierre laughs, praying that it covers up the old wound Max's statement picked open. Pierre hated the idea of moving back to Red Bull but he didn't have much choice. He was still contracted to one of four Red Bull branded seats for next season. A promotion, at the very least, would help him showcase his talent and further cement his value. If he had to spend any longer than that with the team, ripping out his hair was a real possibility.

"Wasn't someone supposed to be with you this weekend?" Max quirks a brow. "Where is she?"

"In London." Max bringing you up doesn't help the pit forming in Pierre's stomach. Win or lose, seventh or eighth, Red Bull or Alpha Tauri, come Sunday Pierre wanted you at his side. Interview requests were bound to roll in either way and Pierre would need someone to ground him, a task much easier to accomplish if you were physically at his side.

"Too bad." Max clicks his tongue and takes his room keys from the receptionist. "It's gonna be a fun weekend."

"I don't think-"

Pierre's vision goes dark at the same time someone whispers, "Guess who?"

Pierre sucks in a breath, spins on his heel and wraps you in a hug in one smooth motion. You laugh as he lifts you off your feet and presses kisses to your cheeks. 

"What are you doing here?" He grabs both suitcases and tugs you aside. His room can wait.

"Tost asked me to come." Your grin is contagious, its twin appearing on Pierre's own cheeks. "He said that since you were flying out from Milan on your own there was an extra seat on the jet, so if I got myself to Nice I could fly out with the Red Bull boys."

"Seven hours trapped in a tin can with Max, Yuki and Checo?" Pierre rubs his chest. "I've got heartburn just thinking about that."

"It wasn't so bad," you say, finally giving him a proper kiss. "Yuki and I just played games on our phones the whole time. And I beat Max at Scrabble."

"How many Dutch words did he try to use?"

"Mmm, about half the words he tried were definitely not English."

"Yep, sounds about right." Pierre throws an arm around your shoulders and leads you back to the reception desk. He pays for an upgraded room when you aren't looking- though when you're assigned a suite there's not much higher you can go- and slips the woman behind the counter an extra bill for good measure.

"I could use a nap," you note, leaning against Pierre like you'd otherwise fall over. "I didn't get much sleep last night."

Pierre checks his watch. "We've got time for a nap."

"We?" Your raised eyebrow is question enough. Pierre smiles and swipes his key card once you're in the elevator with him. He hadn't looked at the price of the room but he was positive it was more than he'd spent on a single night in his entire career, considering it occupies an entire floor of the swanky hotel.

"It's date night," Pierre says simply. Initially his plan had been to invite Charles over for a game of Fifa but the Monegasque wouldn’t fault him for cancelling at the last minute. "We're in one of the most luxurious cities in the world and I'm going to show you off every chance I get. The restaurant down stairs is to die for."

Your attempt at nodding along with what he says is thwarted by a yawn. "Sleep first, eat later." Seeing as it was impossible to deny you, Pierre simply drops a kiss to the crown of your head.

"Wait until you see our room." The way your eyes light up when he says our room makes him want to say it again and again just to see you sparkle.

"I know you upgraded it, Mr. I-think-I'm-sneaky." You uncurl yourself from against his arm when the elevator chimes. "How much did it cost?"

"A few extra pennies."

The stainless steel doors open directly into the suite. The living space is dominated by a curving crescent of full length windows overlooking the cerulean harbor and the jagged steel of the city skyline beyond. Suitcase forgotten, your jaw drags along the floor as you toe off your shoes in favor of sinking onto one of the half moon couches situated around a low coffee table.

"Did you get some sort of bonus you didn't tell me about?" Pierre sees your inner engineer cataloging the chandelier dripping crystals over the carved dining table and the pattern of the black veined marble flooring. "This cost more than a few pennies."

"I didn't really look at the price so it's possible," he admits. In the end it was worth it to see you like this, happy as a pig in mud. Pierre was in his element at the track you were in yours in beautiful buildings. For all Pierre cared you could be sharing a dingy room at a motel; it would still be five star worthy with you there. 

Every once in a while though, you deserve a bit of pampering for all you put up with. Late nights and months apart wasn’t easy on either of you, but you stuck by him. And when the day comes that Pierre retires or loses his seat, you would be the one there to comfort him. Spending frivolous amounts of money to see you smile was nothing in the grand scheme of things. 

In Pierre’s world, money is temporary, you are forever.

"Well I have half a mind to tear into you for spending so much on a room we won't spend all that much time in," you start, your star-speckled gaze landing on Pierre, "the view is too pretty to be upset about."

"Mine isn't half bad either." You laugh, tucking an errant hair behind your ear. You both know he isn’t referring to the glittering bay or the expensive furnishings.

"Up," Pierre demands softly, holding out his hand. Your hand is warm and dwarfed by his long fingers but you barely seem to notice. The heart in his chest pounds for no discernable reason as he leads you down the narrow hall past doors leading to what he can only assume are bedrooms and bathrooms, to the one at the end of the hall. Based on his mental floor plan this one has the best view, if he's guessed correctly.

Your breezy oh confirms his hunch. You stutter at the threshold, coming up short behind him to bathe in the beauty of the sea, dotted through with white sails. Sunlight twinkles off the waves and if he breathes deep enough, he can almost smell the salt.

"Come on," Pierre says with a chuckle, urging you to fall into the fluffy down of the bed with him. You follow reluctantly, too enamored by the sights to pay any real attention to how Pierre arranges your limbs to his liking, your head resting on his chest and your joined hands laying atop his stomach.

"How about that nap?" He murmurs, running the fingers of his free hand through your unbound hair. 

You sigh and snuggle in closer. It was rare that Pierre had the opportunity to steal moments like this during a race week, when he had nothing better to do than tangle himself in you.

"I'll tell you a story." 

Just as he expected, you leap at the offer. "Can you tell me the one about the time you and Charles got in trouble when you were karting?"

Normally he opts for something fictional that allows him to embellish the details to fit his narrative. Pierre loved spinning tales rife with laughter and intrigue but he also didn't mind indulging your curiosity.

"Yeah, I can tell that one. Let me set the scene. It's midnight on a Friday at a little track outside Rouen. Two gangly teenage boys, one French and one definitely, positively not French, have nothing better to do than get themselves in trouble…"

**********

Fans began whispering when Pierre set foot in the lobby. The price of stardom was high and had taken years to get used to. Some days the bombardment of people asking for photos and autographs overwhelmed him to the point he was desperate for an out. Most people respected his boundaries and when they sensed it was too much, they backed off. Other days it was simply too much and he would mumble excuses and book it out the door.

The pressure increases tenfold when he steps into the lobby with you on his arm, the pair of you dressed to the nines. He clocks a group of women- clearly tourists based on their body language- perched on a sofa the minute their low murmurs turn into excited squeals.

Pierre mentally braces for you to stiffen or stop altogether but you do neither. You carry on unaffected, either ignoring them or completely oblivious to the women who do nothing to hide their pointed stares.

"Table for two please." You smile at the restaurant host and then at Pierre. You must not have noticed the fans then. You were getting better at coping with the photos and whispers, although your smile usually became forced the longer it dragged on, the polar opposite of you currently beaming at him.

Pierre's shoulders sag a bit when you're led to a secluded table towards the rear of the dining space. Privacy wasn't a luxury he was often afforded. With his back to a wall of windows, there were fewer angles for people to approach from which was a small comfort.

Apparently you find sitting across from Pierre unacceptable because you shuffle your chair to his side of the table before plopping down in it. Pierre shoots you a questioning look but keeps his mouth shut. Inquiring after your motives didn't tend to end well for him.

Instead he leans over to kiss your cheek, relishing the blush his lips coax to the surface.

“It all sounds good,” you say, scanning the menu. “You’ve been here before, I take it?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah I have. It’s all wonderful.” 

The fans from the lobby remain in the blurred fringes of his vision. Pierre does his best to focus on the waitress explaining the specials. He tunes in automatically to the fan’s heavily accented English as they argue with the host, vying for a table as close to Pierre as possible.

Their phones remain out as an annoyed waiter tries and fails to coax the gaggle of girls into ordering something. Pierre drags a hand through his hair.

Being the center of attention usually doesn't bother him. Coping with the spotlight and the scrutiny that accompanies it is second nature; if the press conferences at Spa in 2019 had taught him anything, it was the importance of a solid poker face. Fame is new to you though and interactions with polite fans make you nervous. Having your picture taken without permission and splashed on social media? Forget about it. Pierre didn't care to find out how you'd react.

"Don't be nervous." You lay a hand on Pierre's thigh. The touch is enough to temporarily pause his bouncing leg. "You're going to do amazing this weekend. All you have to do is finish in front of Checo and you're golden."

How you haven't noticed the girls giggling mere yards away is beyond him. The last thing he wants to do is ruin this perfect, beautiful moment of bliss. You look gorgeous with your painted lips and that sinful black dress that he doubts can be comfortable based on how it hugs your curves like water. To top it off, the pride in your gaze is something to behold, making it impossible to doubt himself when you so clearly and openly believe he can conquer the world.

But it's better to tell you now versus you finding out on social media later. "That's not what's bothering me."

"Oh?" You sit straighter and set the menu down. "What is it then? Because if it's Horner, I have no problem marching in there and chewing him out. Birdy will back me up."

Despite himself, Pierre can't hold back his smile. "Where did all this confidence come from, hmm?"

"I'm learning," you insist, nodding your head firmly. "I'm growing as a person and you should be proud."

"I never said I wasn't." Maybe you'd spent the last month at university interacting with racing fans on campus. Perhaps being exposed to endless questions in a setting you controlled was the key. "Did you take a course in confidence at university?"

You scrunch up your nose and laugh in the most adorable way. Pierre's heart lurches at the sight, regardless if it was him you were laughing at.

"No, but I did make a few new friends that have a habit of pestering me about you." You jab a finger in his side for good measure. "It helped, I think. I don't look for cameras as much anymore. You're my focus now, not paps that may or may not be lurking in bushes."

"I knew it." Pierre is slightly impressed that he'd hit the nail squarely on the head. "I figured there had to be someone at uni responsible for helping you out."

You shrug and purse your lips. "I guess we'll have to see how I handle this weekend. I mean, there's bound to be press trying to corner me, what with the stakes and all. But I think I can take them." You raise your fists in front of your face and Pierre has to laugh. 

“Throw a punch like that and you’ll break a finger.” He takes one of your clenched fists in his and untucks your thumb from under your fingers. “That’s how you make a proper fist. And you hit with these knuckles here- make sure you distribute the blow across all four, or you’ll be hurting.”

“Regardless,” you say, jabbing the air a few times, “The shock factor of having little old me in their face ought to be enough to earn me an advantage.”

Pierre finishes the lap to circle back to the topic at hand. "How about we test your confidence?” 

"Okay," you say, dragging out the 'a' until it hangs in the air between you like a spider's web. 

Pierre rakes a hand through his hair and nods to the girls a few tables away. "They've been taking pictures since we sat down. I'm sure they'll be all over Instagram in an hour, if they aren't already."

You steal a glance at the table in question under the guise of grabbing something from your purse. You hum, contemplating how to go about responding. Pierre is almost certain you'll ask to head back upstairs where it's just the two of you, no cameras or outside influence to ruin your night. His wallet is already out under the table, ready to leave a hefty tip for putting up with your drink-and-dash.

“We aren’t doing anything interesting,” you point out, swirling the knuckle’s worth of whiskey in your glass. “Why do they feel the need to document every passing second?”

Pierre lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “It’s just what some people do. If you’re uncomfortable we can go.”

“Who said anything about leaving?” You scoff, the corners of your lips turned up in a teasing smile. “I figure the best course of action is to give them something worth photographing.”

“What do you-”

Pierre’s yelp is decidedly unsexy when you yank him forward by his tie and attach your lips to his. Caught entirely off guard, he flounders for a moment before he catches himself and sinks into you. One hand on your cheek and the other creeping up your thigh, Pierre slides his tongue over the seam of your lips. You don't hesitate to obey the silent command.

He should be embarrassed. He should be contemplating the consequences of this kiss being splashed across tabloids the world over. He can’t bring himself to care, not when you’re the only release he needs and something as simple as a kiss sets his skin alight and causes any sane thoughts to trickle from his head.

Nothing matters. You're kissing him and your hand is a few inches below his hip on his right thigh, burning a brand that he prays leaves a puckered pink scar. Your scent and your mouth and your unmistakable hiss of pleasure saps the worry from his limbs. He's floating up off his chair, lungs filling with helium as you steal every last molecule of oxygen from the room.

Just like that, Pierre is the one that's roaring to leave for an entirely different reason.

Your hand on his jaw keeps your lips a hair's breadth apart as you whisper, "Are they staring?"

A blissed out nod is all he manages. Thoughts evade him and speaking is utterly out of the question when your lips are within striking distance. He surges forward for another kiss, heavier on teeth than on tongue. He makes sure to hold your lower lip between his teeth longer than necessary, putting on a show now that you've given him permission.

"Pierre," you murmur, using the hand splayed on his chest to push him away. The whine that escapes him is wholly unintentional. Thankfully it's low enough that only you hear, pressing a finger to your sinful lips.

"Down, boy." You extricate his hand from the dimpled flesh of your hip and place it chastely in his own lap. "We've accomplished what I wanted to."

Saying you tossing a wink over your shoulder at the intrusive fans isn't the hottest thing he's ever seen would be a lie. Pierre needed to be sure to thank Daniel's girlfriend the next time he saw her for whatever the hell she said to finally bestow you with a healthy serving of self-assurance because this new you is an entirely different entity, one Pierre intends to explore at the next opportunity.

"Problem solved." You brush your hands together and Pierre half expects to see dust clouds in the air like you'd just finished a woodshop project. 

Pierre's brain is operating on a ten second delay. So really, normal operating procedure when he was in your vicinity. "I don't think we've accomplished everything I'd like to get done."

"We have a dinner to finish first." You pick up your menu and resume browsing like you hadn't just forcibly ripped his appetite for anything other than you right out of him. "The salmon sounds good, don't you think?"

"You sound good," Pierre mumbles under his breath and picks up his own menu. God, he'd love to let his fingers drift to the apex of your thighs. You’re always cute when you squirm. It was so simple to do too, all you needed was a brush of his knuckle to your center and you'd be gasping.

"Are you ready to order?"

The soft-spoken waitress bursts Pierre's bubble. She brings fresh drinks and jots down an order of two salmon fillets and leaves with a smile. 

How Pierre has managed to make it this long without fucking you is beyond him. From the moment you surprised him in the lobby, his limbs have been thrumming with energy. And now your surprise kiss had been the pebble that preceded an avalanche of feverish longing. Those red painted lips would look better wrapped around his-

The pointed toe of your shoe digs into his calf. "Quit staring."

"Either you let me daydream or you let me take you upstairs,” Pierre quips back, licking his lips before he can catch himself.

"Can we get through one date without you mentally undressing me?"

Pierre dips his grin in a vat of lust, his words dripping with waxy promise. "No. Not when I know that as soon as we're alone, you'll let me do what I want."

"And what about what I want?" Your pouted lip does absolutely nothing but push his mind further in the gutter. 

"Your wish is my command." His hand floats under the hem of your dress to graze along your core. And there it is, that sound he would swim across oceans to hear, your chastizing gasp of surprise. 

The cross way you whisper his name is a thing of dreams. No one else's name sounded like that on your tongue, that honor is reserved solely for Pierre. The two breathless syllables are more exhilarating than standing on the top step. The rush of adrenaline that accompanies them is ten times what he is rewarded with when passing a world champion on track. He'll give it all up to hear you repeat it when you're pissed or lonely or tired- he just wants your voice echoing in his ears like a broken record.

You move his hand a safe distance down your thigh, nearly at your knee. Pierre gives your leg a sharp squeeze. "Can we please get our dinner to go?"

"Not tonight. You can wait, mon amour."

The French rolls off your tongue awkwardly but Pierre will be the last to complain. Your encyclopedic knowledge of which buttons to press when had come back to bite him in the ass.

"That's not fair." His pout is a mirror image of the one you turned on him earlier. "You can't use my own language against me."

You pat your pockets as if searching for something and shrug when you come up empty. "I don't see a rulebook anywhere."

Reminding you what happens when you tease him shoots to the top of his to do list. "I'll play if you wanna play, ma chérie. Don't bite off more than you can chew."

"I think you're forgetting who usually wins off track."

Pierre can't help it. He takes advantage of his superior reflexes and surges forward to claim another searing kiss. You did normally win and it wasn't for lack of trying on his end. No matter the tactic he employed, you generally got the better of him. Not that he minded.

"Why don't you come here?" He purposely grazes his lips to your ear as he speaks and grins when a shiver runs down your spine. 

"Because we are in public," you hiss back, though the way your head tips to the side betrays you. Pierre's nose touches the underside of your jaw and you struggle to find your breath.

"We should eat." A self satisfied smile splits his face when he notices your heaving chest and wild eyes. 

"When did our food get here?" Pierre did that. He got you so worked up that you blocked out your surroundings so thoroughly that you hadn't heard the clink of plates. Pierre wears that fact like a badge of honor.

"A minute or so ago. Remind me again who's winning?"

"We may be even," you relent, adjusting the skirt of your dress. Yeah, even isn't the word he would pick, considering how flustered you are. It's a good thing Pierre has learned to eat with one hand because he doesn't plan on moving the arm currently slung over the back of your chair anytime soon. His finger traces the letters of his name on the bare skin of your shoulder. Whether you realize what he's writing or not you lean into him as you eat, falling in closer with each lemon-scented bite.

"Excuse me?"

You don't bother to look up but Pierre does. Disappointment washes over him when he is met by one of the fans, apparently deeming now to be the appropriate time to approach him, while clearly on a date, in the middle of a meal.

"I'll be happy to take a photo once I'm done." Sometimes passive aggressiveness works best with people like this, who have no regard for personal space. "Right now I would prefer to be alone, thanks."

"Oh, right." The blonde giggles, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "You two make a… cute couple?" The end of her sentence turns up and your fork falls to your plate.

Pierre tucks you a little closer to his side, both possessive and reassuring. "We know."

Your discomfort is plain, the way you curl in on yourself making his heart hurt. But you surprise him by taking a deep breath and turning to the woman with a smile. 

"If you'd let us finish our meal, I would appreciate it. We can stop by on our way out and chat with you." Sylvie would be proud of that answer. Diplomatically phrased and said with a smile that negates any negative connotations.

"Of course." The blonde's smile is sickly sweet. To Pierre she adds, "Good luck on Sunday."

Pierre nods. The woman's rude behavior didn't warrant a verbal response. She mumbles a feeble goodbye before slinking back to her friends. If nothing else at least their whispers died down, put out by his behavior. 

Pierre loves his fans. Without them he wouldn't have a sport to compete in, and of course he appreciated their endless support. Stopping for photos or autographs had gotten him in trouble with Marko multiple times for being late to meetings that usually turned out to be pointless anyway. As a whole, their enthusiasm gives him an extra boost on Sundays and lifts his spirits after a bad weekend.

And then sometimes there were people like the blonde woman that had interrupted his dinner. Those people he has far less tolerance for. Basic manners were imperative to Pierre giving someone the light of day, otherwise he saw no need to waste time and energy on them.

"All good, ma chérie?" Pierre rubs your shoulder, hoping it'll stave off any anxiety.

"I'm good," you confirm with a nod of your head. "Let's finish up and go to our room."

Pierre presses a kiss to your temple and scarfs down the remainder of his meal in record time. He flags down the waitress and hands her his card, leaving a substantial tip when she returns with the check.

“Can you distract that table?” Pierre asks, aware of how unusual the request likely is. “I’d like to get out of here without making a scene.”

“Of course,” the waitress says with a warm, sincere smile. Pierre waits until she loudly announces, “Excuse me? Your card has been declined, do you have another method of payment?”

Neither of you can contain your laughter as you stumble through the lobby. In the sanctity of the elevator, Pierre wraps his arms around your middle and molds himself against you. "You look especially gorgeous tonight."

"You're not too bad yourself." One of your hands finds the nape of his neck, guiding his face to the crook of your shoulder. Pierre takes the invitation at face value and nips at the sensitive skin. Your hum goes straight to his cock, twitching against the swell of your ass.

"I win," you purr, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging. 

For once Pierre is glad to be in the world's slowest elevator. Since he's already lost, he might as well lose in style. He spins you to face the mirrored wall. And because he knows it'll make you tremble, he trails his hand lazily over your throat to grip your jaw.

A low moan leaves your parted lips. Pierre studies your reflection, from your hands gripping the railing to the skin dimpling beneath his fingers. 

"Fine, you win this time. But I think you and I both know, I'll come out ahead in the end."

**********

Waking up to soft kisses will never get old. Thirty years from now when Pierre was retired and you fell asleep each night with his arms around you, you'd still yearn for the brush of his lips to your cheeks, neck, and shoulders to rouse you from the violet shores of sleep.

"Good morning," you mumble, a sentiment which Pierre echoes with his gruff, sleep tinged voice. "Sleep well?"

"Best sleep I've ever gotten. You tired me out last night." You both grin at the reminder. Fueled by a slight tinge of jealousy after the women at the restaurant made eyes at him, you had refused to let him tumble into bed until well past midnight, when you both were well and truly exhausted. Thursday is press day, nothing strenuous that he couldn't afford to be a little sore for.

Pierre rolls to straddle your hips, lips capturing yours for a proper kiss. The taste of freshly brushed mint makes your skin tingle when he tugs your lip between his teeth.

"It's too early for that." You throw your arms around his neck and urge him to bend his elbows until he falls atop you. It takes him a moment to snuggle in, his head on your chest and his arms sliding under your middle. 

You're convinced that ten minutes in this position can cure any ailments, physical or mental. The weight of your soulmate pressing into you, forcing you to focus on breathing instead of whatever might be bothering you. It's easy to forget about the outside world when everything you require to be happy is wrapped around you like a blanket.

You stroke a hand over Pierre's hair until his breathing evens out, only rousing him when the sun peeks over the harbor. Amiable silence fills the space as hues of orange and pink paint Pierre in swaths of color. Suddenly you're seeing him for the first time, completely enamored by the angles of his cheekbones and the sharp cut of his stubbled jaw. The golden hour of dawn shines on it's golden boy, his lashes brushing his cheeks as he turns towards the warmth calling him home.

"Pyry and I are going for a run soon if you'd like to come with us."

You cringe. Running used to be fun when you were in school, but seeing as you hadn't properly trained in years you doubted you could keep up with a pair of professionals. "How about you text me when you're back and I'll come to the gym with you? It looks fancy, if George's snaps are anything to go by."

Pierre trails kisses up your sternum, over your neck and only speaks once he's reached your lips. "Looking at other men, are you?"

"Shut up," you laugh, shoving him off you. "I'll have you know it was a rare shirt on picture, thank you very much. I don't need to see George shirtless ever again."

A satisfied, "Good," rumbles from Pierre's chest and he stands to stretch the lingering sleep from his limbs. Clad in nothing but a pair of white four inch inseam shorts and with his back to you, you grin as an idea forms. You scramble forward before he can process you moving and smack his ass so hard he yelps.

"Gotcha!" You devolve into a fit of giggles as he rubs the spot you hit, whining about you taking advantage of his distraction.

"You like it," you tease, and Pierre remains strictly pouty for two whole seconds before he breaks into a grin and nods. "Now put on a shirt and get downstairs before Pyry calls you and you get reamed for being late again."

Pierre leans down for one last kiss before rushing off to the lobby. Waking up before the sun leaves you plenty of time to laze about if you choose to. Kicking your butt into gear seems like the better option so you drag yourself out of the relative warmth of the sheets and shuffle to the kitchen in search of coffee. 

Apparently the suite came fully stocked with a handful of different freshly ground blends, and much to your delight you recognize one of your favorites. You scroll through the room service menu on your phone while it brews. Without a doubt Pyry would rope you in to whatever workout he had planned for Pierre, albeit giving you a watered down version of what he gave the driver. Regardless, it would still be grueling and you needed to fuel up.

A hearty breakfast of fresh fruit and cinnamon sugar oatmeal shows up at your door ten minutes later. You're just finishing up when Pierre's snapchat comes through and you nearly choke.

Come on down baby

The sweaty, shirtless selfie that accompanies the caption is wholly unnecessary. Pierre's stupid tongue sticks out and the fingers of one hand are tangled in his hair. The muscle of his bicep is perfectly flexed, an obvious but appreciated attempt to rile you up. You shamelessly screenshot the photo before it disappears to save it for later.

You change into a simple set of leggings and a loose t-shirt and head to the elevator, curating your music queue on the way down.

The outdoor gym overlooks a pool of the same crystalline blue as the sea not far beyond. A few Alpha Tauri and Red Bull team members you recognize occupy a handful of machines. You wave at the ones you recognize, including Alana- she was a sight for sore eyes. You make a mental note to catch up with her at some point today, as you're sure to cross paths again.

Pyry spots you before Pierre does and waves you over. "Start stretching," the fin orders, "I'm glad you dressed for the occasion this time."

"I've learned my lesson." You plop down next to Pierre and lean into a stretch to stage whisper, "He drives you this hard?"

"Get used to it." Pierre shoots you a grin that sets you on fire. He's got a shirt on now, which means he only took it off earlier to send you that snap. Tease.

Any other time you'd chide him for his behavior but this weekend you let it slide. Tension has been brewing since the moment you spotted him across the lobby; simple things tip you off to the stress winding up in him. If flirting could offer him a small amount of release, then so be it, even if it was torturous for you to see him like this and be unable to do anything about it.

"If you two can't get through this without making heart eyes at each other I'll separate you," Pyry warns, pushing at your shoulders and helping you stretch a few more inches. You hide your wince and laugh, leaning into the slight burn.

"Sorry coach," Pierre chimes in, "I'll keep my hands to myself, don't worry." He accepts Pyry's hand to be pulled to his feet. Bouncing on his toes he throws a few punches at the air and catches your gaze over his trainer's shoulder.

"Definitely not you I'm worried about."

As Pyry says it, you blow Pierre a kiss. You quickly tuck your hands behind your back when Pyry's head whips around. Your cheshire grin gets you off the hook and Pyry just points to the stationary bike in silent command. At least he was going easy on you.

Headphones pumping a Pierre curated playlist, you lose track of time as you cycle mile after mile. Pierre sparring on the fringes of your vision helps distract you from burning muscles. Sweat soaks his black tee and is absorbed by the waistband of his oddly patterned orange and white shorts. No matter how incessantly you tease him for his fashion choices, he never fails to amaze you for how well he pulls it all off.

Lost in the music and the incredible view, it takes you a moment to realize Pierre's lips aren't just moving silently. You yank out an ear bud and blubber, "What did you say?"

Pierre's breathless laugh is accompanied by a shake of his head. He half curls in on himself, hands on his hips and mouth agape as he tries to catch his breath. The image stirs memories of the last night, when he was panting just like that but with nothing obscuring you from drinking in his godlike muscled body.

"I said," Pierre starts, walking over to kiss your cheek, "I need a shower before press. I'm going upstairs. You can stay here and Pyry can take you through some more-"

"No thanks!" Pyry shrugs off your immediate refusal. Training top tier athletes and training you sat at polar opposite ends of the spectrum and often times the Fin pushed you farther than you thought capable. You'd like to be able to function tomorrow, thank you very much.

The elevator ride to the suite is filled with salted kisses and wet touches. A breadcrumb trail of clothing leads from the stainless steel doors to the glass encased shower. There's not enough time to worship Pierre like you'd wanted to but he sighs when you run a soapy cloth over his body. Your lips follow the suds, leaving light kisses to the tender muscles. By the time you pour shampoo in your palm and lightly scratch at his scalp to work it into a lather, he's practically purring.

Media appearances are a necessary part of being a driver. Pierre usually handled them well enough on his own and occasionally with Sylvie's help when she could be bothered to get off her phone for a few minutes, but having you with him is different. You pride yourself on reading him well enough to know exactly what he needs. Some days, when the press isn't a pack of rabid animals, he returns to his driver's room and needs nothing more than a quick kiss to have him righted. On days when the pack of piranhas descend to feast on the bones of a bad session or the whispering of drama, a delicate touch is required.

If your suspicion proves right, today would be the latter. Being ahead of the frenzy might take the edge off when Pierre got in the thick of it.

When the tap cuts off, you step out and wrap Pierre in a fluffy towel. His smile communicates how grateful he is- and that he knows what you're doing.

You hand him a stack of Alpha Tauri branded clothes and sit on the foot of the bed. "Do you want me to come to the paddock with you?"

Pierre pauses with his shirt half on. "If you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind." You pluck a few of his rings from the nightstand and hold out your hand. "You have to complete the look."

"What would I do without you," he murmurs, slipping one on his pinky and one on the thumb of his opposite hand.

"Probably be ridiculed for your lack of fashion sense."

**********

As a driver's girlfriend, you had come to grips with being relegated to a background role when it came to team events. You have to ask Sylvie to repeat herself twice before her words sink in.

"Come with me to the media pen," the woman grits out. Apparently Tost intended to have some fun torturing the woman before he fired her at the end of the season. Hopefully whoever Pierre got stuck with next was a bit more personable than Sylvie.

"Pierre told me to wait here," you say, gesturing to the garage buzzing around you. You were a rock and the mechanics were the stream, parting around you without a care in the world. You were barely a blip on their radar, everyone too honed in on their tasks to pay you any mind.

"And now I'm telling you to come with me. The other wives and girlfriends are in attendance and it'll look odd if you're not there too." Clearly, Sylvie didn't like the idea. And any idea that pissed Sylvie off sounded like a good one.

"I know the way," you say and breeze past her. Your feet follow the familiar path to the cluster of reporters crowded around metal gates, keeping the drivers in like caged animals. It was fitting, considering how often people referred to the sport as a traveling circus.

Pierre is already knee deep in an interview with one of the more popular journalists in the bunch, Will Buxton. Careful to stay out of the lens, you lean against the guardrail to listen in. So far it seems to be going well, Pierre's laugh brings a smile to your face.

"So, Pierre." Will shifts on his feet, pausing to create a sense of drama. "Your seat for next year. We know you'll be in Alpha Tauri or at Red Bull. Only a few points separate you from being demoted right back to eighth in the championship, which would officially relegate you to keep your seat at Alpha for the upcoming season. Are you worried about a mechanical problem or an accident stripping you of your chance to prove yourself and leaving you stuck where you are?"

Your stomach sinks. Buxton knew how to phrase a question, you had to give him that. Each word had been carefully chosen to elicit an emotional response from Pierre. You hate seeing him backed into a corner, forced to answer the same questions again and again, helpless to prevent it.

"Well first of all I'd like to stay that I'm not stuck at Alpha." Pierre shifts his weight and you exhale. Buxton's poisoned dart had missed its mark.

"Given a few years of development I know we could have a really competitive car. But it's more so that I'm ready to move up, fight with the leaders now instead of waiting. I'm in my prime and I don't want to let that pass me by.

"So no, I'm not worried about things that are out of my control. My team has given me an amazing car this year and I'm not concerned about mechanical problems. Things out of my control aren't worth my energy. There's nothing I can do about it so I don't even give it thought. I'll focus on my driving and pushing my limit- if an accident happens, I'm just a passenger."

"Well said." Buxton nods and turns away, effectively dismissing Pierre. As soon as he's out of the camera's view he's reaching for you and you meet him halfway. Sylvie trails after you as Pierre leads you through to the Alpha garage.

"Five minutes until your briefing," Alana says the second you enter. "And hey girl. Don't think I've forgotten about that sweater I loaned you. I still want it back!"

Your friend doesn't leave any room for rebuttal before heading for the conference room, presumably to set up whatever presentation she had created. Sylvie had disappeared too, leaving you as the only one for Pierre to focus on.

"You think I can do it?" He asks quietly, playing with your interlaced fingers.

"I don't think." You tilt his chin up so he's looking at you. "I know. And I'll be right here when you cross that line on Sunday and bring home points. You've got this, baby. Don't doubt yourself now."

"Pierre!"

Your grip on his chin prevents him from following the voice, not that he would if he could. You shoot him a raucous grin, "Red Bull colors would look pretty good on me, huh?"

Pierre's smile is brighter than all the stars in the sky. "Anything with my name on it will do.”

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[kung-laos-hat]

Fool

Kung Lao x Fem!Reader

Warning: Contains major spoilers from Mortal Kombat 9, including quotes from the actual script. :) kinda follows the canon but also doesn’t considering this is an x reader ‼️Not Proof read yet‼️

AN: words of affirmation and acts of service love language goes brrrrr

Summary: Kung Lao is devastated that his best friend and the girl he loves get to complete in the tournament without him, so he does what any sane person does: sneaks his way onto the island and challenges Scorpion in an attempt to impress the reader :D

“We’ll be back before you know it, Lao.” (Y/n) said, placing a hand on Kung Lao’s shoulder.

He chuckled nervously and nodded, trying his best to seem at ease but the uncertainty in his eyes gave it all away. It didn’t matter how long they trained or how prepared the elder monks thought (Y/n) and Liu Kang were. (Y/n)’s attempts at comforting the young man were fruitless.

It wasn’t just that he was worried for his childhood friends’ safety. There was no denying that was definitely one of the reasons he was reluctant to see them off, but aside from that he was envious. And how could he not be? The two of them were chosen by the elder monks to represent their section in the tournament where some the greatest fighters would be present.

Sure, he always knew the elder monks would choose (Y/n). She was the perfect fighter in his eyes. (Y/n) was clever, cunning, and quick on her feet. It just made sense that she’d be the first choice.

However, that left that second slot open for debate, and the primary candidates were Liu and Lao. Now Kung Lao promised himself that no matter what the elder monks decided, he wouldn’t let that drive a wedge in his relationship with his cousin, and he’d been fairly true to his word so far. He was proud of Liu, really.

But time went on and Raiden suggested that it’d be best for Liu and (Y/n) to train together in private, allowing them to grow accustomed to each other’s moves, strengths, and weaknesses. This would come in handy if the two of them should ever find themselves in a position in which they had to fight opponents together. Of course, Liu and (Y/n) already had established a close friendship, but there was nothing wrong with a little refining.

Lao had no problem with this, that is, until the tournament grew closer, and he began to see less and less of the duo. (Y/n) in particular almost seemed to be avoiding him, but Kung Lao knew her better than to assume that was the case. Yes, Liu Kang and (Y/n) were close, but not as close as Kung Lao and (Y/n). The three of them were the best of friends since childhood, but Lao always felt like there was something special between him and (Y/n) that just wasn’t present in her relationship with Liu.

(Y/n) had her fair share of sneaking out, having midnight conversations, and causing mischief amongst the other pupils, with Liu, sure, but it was Kung Lao she always turned to when in need of comfort. Somehow (Y/n) preferred to talk about her problems with Lao, and boy did he love it when she did. It was like seeing a completely gentler, more authentic side of her.

Because of this, Lao simply noticed things about (Y/n) no one else did. He knew what made her happy, and when one night she expressed how anxious training made her, he began to go out of his way to do some of her daily chores along with his own or do little things such as make her a snack. Of course, his pride would never allow his to flat out tell her he’d be doing all of this just because.

No, it was always,

“I just happened to make too much to eat by myself.”

Or

“Don’t look too deep into it. If I didn’t do your laundry for you, you’d probably let it lay around your room. Then you’d have nothing clean to wear and you’d start stealing my clothes.”

Soon enough, Lao’s thoughts were flooded with nothing but (Y/n), and everyday he was forced to remember that she and Liu Kang were spending more and more time together, and eventually would be sent off to potentially die. This not only rubbed salt in the wound of not being chosen, but created a new fear for the poor young man.

God, what if (Y/n)’s opponent didn’t spare her? Would Liu Kang or Raiden interject? Kung Lao knew he would. He’d do anything to keep her safe. Hell, he’d throw away his pride and get on his hands and knees to beg if it meant saving (Y/n).

Was that why Liu Kang was chosen and not him? Because he was a better match for (Y/n)? Did the elder monks think he was more capable than him than much? Or was it (Y/n) who chose Liu Kang to fight beside her?

Now here he stood before her, soaking in her presence potentially for the last time. (Y/n)’s hand lingered on his shoulder a little longer, then she signed and took both of his hands in her own.

“What is it?” She asked, looking up expectantly.

Lao blinked, “What?”

“You’ve got that look on your face. Y’know the one that screams ‘I’ve got something to say, but I’m a wuss so instead I’m going to dwell in my room immediately after you leave,’” (Y/n) teased.

Lao half smiled and pulled his arms away. “It’s nothing, I’m just worried for you two.”

(Y/n)’s face softened and she offered him a small smile. “Hey, don’t worry about me. Liu Kang’s bad temper, maybe, but I’m sure I’ll be okay out there.” She opened her arms and embraced Lao, which he quickly accepted.

“After all,” (Y/n) said pulling away slightly and flicking the tip of Kung Lao’s hat, “I trained with the best.”

“We’ve got to get going!” Liu called out from a few feet away at the enterance of the temple.

With that, she placed a small kiss on Lao’s cheek and ran off to join him and Raiden.

“You better return in one piece!” Kung Lao called out jokingly.

“If I don’t, you better build me a cooler body!” (Y/n) laughed, waving her hand over her head.

With a flash of light, the three of them were gone.

___

So far the introduction to the tournament was running smoothly. (Y/n) had managed to hold pleasant conversations with a few other competitors, including one by the name Johnny Cage. (much to Liu Kang’s distain. Apparently Johnny had accidentally disrespected Raiden and was under the impression that everyone there was just really into roleplay. But aside from being a little arrogant, (Y/n) didn’t mind him.)

(Y/n) had been selected to do a quick demonstration fight against none other than Princess Kitana, who put up a good fight but in the end didn’t stand a chance against her. While the princess laid half on the ground, (Y/n) was given the option to either finish her off or spare her. Despite (Y/n) choosing mercy, Kitana didn’t take this defeat well, but did her best to maintain her composure as the two retreated inside to tend to their wounds.

“...Why did you—,” Kitana began in a low whisper. (Y/n) turned to her and helped her hand, palm out, in front of her chest.

“You’re an excellent fighter. One with true talent, princess, believe me.” (Y/n) chuckled, “To take a life such as yours would be a waste. Don’t let one little defeat become a deterrence.”

The ghost of a smile graced Kitana’s lips. “You know, you’re a fool to be so kind to your enemies. The next time we meet might not be under such pleasant circumstances.”

(Y/n) huffed, “A fool, yes, but at the very least I’ll be remembered for it.”

———

The fighting continued on without the two girls for a while until Shang Tsung granted an intercession. (Y/n) made her way to Liu Kang’s side and nodded at him. He glanced down at her neatly bandaged hands and huffed in amusement, knowing damn well that when they returned home, his companion planned on showing off her “battle scars” to Kung Lao in an attempt to impress him. As they waited for the next match to begin, Liu Kang filled her in on what she’d missed during the Johnny Cage versus Reptile fight.

“I wish you could of been here to see it, (Y/n). I got second hand embarrassment from how arrogant he sounded.” Liu rolled his eyes.

(Y/n) stifled a giggle and covered her smile with her hand, but as she did this, she noticed one particular bodyguard’s eyes watching her intently from behind his helmet.

He was a bit of a distance away, but somehow it felt like his stare was burning through (Y/n)’s skull, and the very thought of that sent a chill down her spine. She awkwardly cleared her throat and turned to face the other direction, her fingers slightly latching onto Liu Kang’s arm defensively.

The rest of the day was nothing short of eventful. Raiden had requested that she accompanied him into the underground sections of the island, where she became acquainted with Sonya Blade and Jax, and even got to witness Sonya fight a man named Kano. Johnny Cage and Liu Kang eventually joined them, and there they established a sort of team while Raiden explained the severity of losing the tournament.

Afterwards Sonya and (Y/n) parted ways with the men and accompanied each other to their designated bedrooms, which, luckily, were located across from each other. As they walked, the two women got to know each other a little better. Sonya told (Y/n) more about how she came to meet Jax, her life in the army, and how she eventually ended up on the island. In turn, (Y/n) told her about her life with the White Lotus Society and Raiden. They went back and forth, trading silly childhood and training tales until they came across a certain mural in one of the main hallways.

(Y/n) paused in front of it and smiled fondly at the depiction of a man standing victoriously over his enemy on a great cliff or something of the sort.

She turned to Sonya and smiled excitedly. “The Great Kung Lao,” she explained, “He’s a legend back home. Truly one of the greatest fighters the White Lotus ever produced.”

She proceeded to retell the story of Kung Lao’s victories back in the day, and Sonya listened intently.

“So that’s your motive then, huh?” Sonya chuckled.

(Y/n) raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

“Well I’ve got my mission to save Jax, Cage wants his fame... what about you? What’s your motive? Aside from the monks selecting you, that is.”

(Y/n) glanced back up at the mural, then back to Sonya. “A descendent of his— the great Kung Lao, I mean.” Suddenly (Y/n) felt incredibly shy and began to fiddle with her hands.

“Liu Kang?” Sonya tilted her head.

“No!” (Y/n) exclaimed, laughing slightly, “A friend of ours, actually.” As she spoke, her tone was laced with a certain fondness.

Sonya smiled, “A friend?”

“Yes, Miss Blade. A friend. Anyways, he helped me create all of my best moves. I hate to admit it, but I basically modeled my fighting style after what he taught me when we were kids.” (Y/n) faintly blushed and smiled to herself.

“So... that’s it then? You want to impress him?”

“I mean— I just—,” (Y/n) struggled to find words, “I mean of course that’s not all of it. Of course I’m here to protect the Earthrealm first, but...”

She glanced up at the mural once more.

“I don’t know, I want him to see how much I’ve improved recently.”

Truth be told, (Y/n) had always admired Kung Lao growing up, but it wasn’t until around their late teens or early twenties that she’d began to admire him a little more than usual. And because of that she’d begun to lose her focus around him. Sure, he had always been terribly strong, smart, and witty beyond compare, but as they grew (Y/n) began to notice how charming he was or how nice he looked without his gear on.

Or even how differently he treated her compared to everyone else.

———

The next day the fighters returned to the island’s arena. Shang Tsung and the monks took to their spots while Quan Chi stood at the foot of the throne.

Liu Kang and (Y/n) exchanged anxious glances At eachother. After the events of last night, (Y/n) could tell her friend’s nerves were a little shaken, despite how composed he seemed. She silently patted his back as a masked guard crossed his arms and moved a little closer to where they stood with Raiden.

“Kombatants! the next match will now begin!”

In a burst of flames, Scorpion teleported into the center of the arena. Everyone gasped in awe, and (Y/n) and Liu Kang shared looks of pure admiration.

“Scorpion!” Shang Tsung called out, “Specter of the Netherrealm! Resurrected by the sorcerer Quan Chi! Who among you is worthy of this challenge?”

“Where is the Lin Kuei Sub-Zero? He killed my family and clan. I will have his head!” The masked man snarled.

Without order, the mask guard standing closest to Raiden promptly walked to the center with Scorpion, discarding his mask and armor as he went.

“I accept the challenge!”

(Y/n)’s face fell. She knew that voice, and it definitely wasn’t Sub-Zero. She looked up at Liu with a worried expression, and he returned her stare with his own.

“Kung Lao?” He whispered as he turned back to the two men standing before them.

“Nevermind the Lin Kuei. Now you face a Shaolin.” He announced.

“Kung Lao, what are you doing here?” (Y/n) muttered under her breath.

The man ran two fingers over the brim of his razor sharp hat and turned his vision toward where (Y/n) stood with Raiden and Liu Kang. He pointed directly at the girl.

“(Y/n).”

Oh god.

“I dedicate my soon to be victory to you, my most prized companion.” He said firmly.

She looked around the arena at the other fighters with a mortified expression and caught Sonya and Johnny hiding their smiles under their hands.

“Please don’t do this, Kung Lao.” (Y/n) begged, sweat beginning to form on her temple from the sudden embarrassment she was feeling.

“It has to be done.” He said, assuming a fighting stance.

“All this nonesense to impress (Y/n) (L/n),” Scorpion huffed, “You will regret your impulsiveness.”

The fight commences, and although Kung Lao is a master of the Shaolin arts and a great fighter, his attempt at overpowering someone who’s spent years trapped in the Neatherrealm soon proved to be futile. (Y/n) could feel herself cringe at every severe blow Scorpion landed to Lao’s torso until he ultimately beat him into an unconscious state on the floor.

(Y/n) tore away from the crowd and rushed to Lao’s side, swiftly but gently lifting his torso onto her lap, cradling his head in her arms as his hat laid in the dirt beside them. Scorpion looked down at her, the pity in his eyes seemed almost unbearable to (Y/n).

“He is not yet a warrior. I apologize, (L/n), I did not mean to cause you embarrassment.” He nodded.

(Y/n) shook her head and let out a small laugh. “Don’t be sorry, Scorpion. There’s no bad blood between us.”

“Kung Lao!” Liu cried out shortly after as he jogged over to aid them.

He thre Kung Lao’s arm over his shoulder and housed him up, carrying him out of the arena as Lao came to. Raiden and (Y/n) followed shortly behind.

“Listen when your elders speak!” He scolded, “You could not win this fight! And lost it at the expense of both you and dear (Y/n)’s expense!”

“Master, please, that’s enough. He meant no harm.” (Y/n) defended as they entered the main hall.

Raiden sighed angrily, “Take him to the nursery and get him cleaned up.” With that, he turned back around.

———

“Are you sure you want to tend to his wounds by yourself? It’d go a lot faster with my help...” Liu Kang said as he stood in the doorway.

“It’s fine, Liu,” (Y/n) waved him off, “It’d look bad if both of us weren’t present during today’s fights.”

(Y/n) turned around and subtly motioned to Kung Lao, who was spread out on a bench, and shot Liu an expecting look that said, ‘Get out, dumbass, I want to speak with him in private.’

Liu Kang mouthed a silent ‘oh,’ in realization and nodded. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Take care of him, and I’ll be back later to check on the two of you.”

He eagerly left the room and shut the door behind him, leaving the two together in awkward silence.

(Y/n) sighed and turned to the cabinets to retrieve a towel and bandages.

Kung Lao sat up and huffed in annoyance, “Why must the two of you talk about me as if I’m not here, (Y/n)? I’m perfectly capable of tending to myself, you don’t have to stay.”

(Y/n) furrowed her eyebrows together but said nothing. She continued on gathering her materials and laid them out on the counter beside them.

“Are you upset with me? Is that what this is?”

Still nothing.

“What? Do you want me to apologize? Look, I’m sorry if I embarrassed you, (Y/n)—,”

“Why are you here, Lao!?” She interrupted sharply.

He scoffed, “Proving I’m equivalent to Liu Kang.”

(Y/n) shook her head angrily. “Why!?” She dipped her small towel in a bowl of water and squeezed it. “You don’t have to prove anything, I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t—,”

“Then help me here, Lao. Explain— Did Raiden... or the elder monks— did they say something to you?”

“That’s not it.” He glanced down.

“Did something happen? I don’t—,”

“It’s you, (Y/n). You’re the reason.” He blurted.

The room was silent again.

“Oh.”

(Y/n) slowly turned around and made her way over to Kung Lao, beckoning for him to give her his arm. She avoided his gaze as she placed the damp towel over a large gash in his shoulder.

“I’m very sorry then... Whatever I did, I didn’t mean to make you feel this way.” The heartbreak in her tone was prominent.

Kung Lao sighed, “No— sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s my fault.”

(Y/n) paused, “What do you mean?”

Lao timidly placed a hand on her shoulder. (Y/n) looked up at him in confusion and scanned his face. He was giving her the same look he had on the morning she left for the tournament. The one that made it seem like he desperately wanted to say something but didn’t know how, or couldn’t muster up the courage to flat out say it.

Kung Lao groaned and burried his face in her other shoulder.

“I like you.” He mumbled, “There, I finally said it. It’s foolish, isn’t it? That I did all of this just because I wanted you to admire me back? I knew the elder monks didn’t choose me for a reason. I’m sure I couldn’t have handled the tournament, anyways—,”

“That’s not it at all!” (Y/n) cried, gingerly wrapping her arms around his torso, “It’s my fault you weren’t chosen, I’m sure of it.”

“I don’t understand,” He said, looking up.

(Y/n) sighed, “It was originally supposed to be us two. At the tournament, I mean. The elders said our fighting styles complimented eachother the most out of the three of us. But then I started to slip up during training whenever you were around. I’m sorry, I thought they’d replace me with Liu Kang, but—,”

“They replaced me instead...” Kung Lao finished.

“You are no lesser of a great fighter than Liu Kang. It truly is my fault, Lao.” (Y/n) confessed.

Kung Lao blinked and was silent for a moment. “So... you were slipping up because...?” A cheeky smile slowly made its way onto his face.

(Y/n) signed and hid her face in the crook of his neck.

“I like you too, you idiot monk. I always have.”

Kung Lao laughed, “Why didn’t you tell me!?”

“What didn’t you tell me!?” (Y/n) argued playfully.

“What? Was doing all your chores and things not enough of a sign for you?”

“Well, clearly they weren’t. Otherwise I wouldn’t have been so stressed over the matter.”

“Oh goodness...” Kung Lao chuckled.

They two sat there, holding each other, for a moment until (Y/n) pulled away.

“I have to finish cleaning your wounds, Lao.”

He nodded and sat up straight, removing his shirt so (Y/n) could clean the wounds on his chest.

As he looked down at her hands, gently pressing the towel to his wounds, applying the medicine where needed, and wrapping them up neatly, his eyes couldn’t help but trail over her lips. This wasn’t the first time, naturally, but know that he had confirmation that she was finally his...

He swooped down and captured her hips with his in a chaste but sweet kiss that lasted no more than a few seconds. (Y/n) stared up at him in surprise.

“Too soon?” He half laughed.

She shook her head, “Not at all.” (Y/n) wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him back down for a real kiss.

Their lips locked softly once again, and the two of them could feel the sense of pure joy and excitement building up in their chests. (Y/n)’s eyes fluttered closed as Kung Lao deepened the kiss. As Lao moved his lips against hers, it tasted sort of metallic from the dried blood that remained on Lao’s lips beforehand, but (Y/n) didn’t seem to mind.

When they finally pulled away, Kung Lao rested chin on top of (Y/n)’s head.

“You’re a fool, Kung Lao,” (Y/n) said endearingly.

He kissed her hair and let out a small laugh.

“For you, perhaps.”

[awindylife-writes]

Voyage of the Damned Part 3

Relationships: the Doctor x reader, Astrid x reader (platonic), Astrid x Doctor (platonic)

Summary: Voyage of the Damned rewrite. The Doctor and you find yourselves on the Titanic, space edition. You meet Astrid and get ready for a wonderful day, but then a meteor shower hits the ship and it starts falling towards Earth.

Author's notes: There was a number of things l didn't like about this Christmas special so again, l rewrote it.

Warnings: a ship crashes, multiple mentions of dearth bc a lot of people die, Astrid dies

"It's for the Doctor!" Astrid yelled at Midshipman Frame over the comms. She needed to teleport NOW. "Y/n and him are down on deck thirty-one, alone, against all the Host and Gods know what else and they're doing it for us!" Silence on the other end. "It's time we did something for them," she ended her speech with a finallity.

A moment passed and she feared she'd failed.

But then, "Giving you power," came through the comms.

~

"Only one person could have the power and the money to hide themselves on board like that. And l should know, 'cause..." the Doctor trailed off. You stared at the strange compartment you had found on deck thirty-one.

"My name is Max," a voice finished for him. A strange machine with a head in it came through the smoke.

"Who the hell are you?" it demaned.

"I'm y/n, and this is the Doctor," you pointed at your friend with false cheerfulness, "Hello!" you wiggled your fingers in greeting.

~

"You wreck the ship and the board find their shares halved in value." The Doctor was spelling out Capricorn's plan.

"But that's not enough," you interjected. From what you've learned about them, mad billionares who were losing all their money didn't do things half-way.

"Oh yes,"  the Doctor went on. "'Cause if a Max Capricorn ship hits the Earth, it destroys an entire planet. Outrage back home!" he growled. "Scandal! The buisness is wiped out!"

The billionare's head nodded. "And? The whole board is thrown in jail, for mass murder!" His eyes shone with revenge.

"While you sit here, safe in the- what's it called?" you turned to the Doctor.

"Impact camber," he filled in.

"I have men," Capricorn gloated now, "waiting to retreave me from the ruins. And enough off-world accounts to retire me to the beaches of Enhaxico Two where the ladies, so l'm told, are very fond of... metal."

You were going to puke.

"So that's the plan," the Doctor growled in rage. "A retirement plan. Two thousand people on this ship, six billion underneath us, all of them slaughtered and why? Because Max Capricorn is a loser."

"I never lose," the billionare's head scowled in threat and your voice immediately rang out, mocking, "You can't even sink the Titanic!"

"Oh but l can, pretty girl!" he laughed. "I can cancel the engines, from here!" Red lights and alarms were suddenly flaring everywhere before you could spit in his face.

The Doctor yelled behind you, "You can't do this!"

"Host, hold them!" Caprocorn ordered in turn and began the Gloat 2.0. "Not so clever now, are you? Shame we couldn't work together, you two are rather good. All that banter and yet not a word wasted." The head sighed. "Time for me to... retire."

Ugh, you thought as you furiously tried to get free. That pun alone would be enough to kill a buisness.

"The Titanic is falling, the sky will burn, let the Christmas inferno commence!" Capricorn yelled in victory and called his minions. "Kill them!"

The robots brought up their halos and went for the Doctor's neck.

"NO!" You fought with everything you had but you were late, you'd be too late!

"MISTER CAPRICORN!" a voice you knew cut through your fear.

And it ignited terror. It was Astrid, sitting in a forklift. "I resign," she told the head and drove forward, ful throttle.

"NO!" the Doctor and you screamed, "ASTRID STOP!" "ASTRID DON'T!"

She didn't listen and rammed into the life support system, but its engine was too strong. They were equal and couldn't move each other.

You bit, kicked and screamed, anything to get free.

But then she caught your eyes with hers and everything stopped. There was an eternity in her face. She looked at the Doctor too but you still stared at her.

Then she turned away and stepped on it. The life support lifted and she drove on.

There was no sound. The world was mute as you watched Astrid go over.

You were suddenly at the edge, looking at her disappear into the fire. Someone was screaming. Someone was screaming and you wanted to calm them, help them.

Then you realized it was your own voice.

The world came back into focus. The ship was falling apart and the Doctor was silent at your side. He was staring at the spot where Astrid had disappeared. His face was pale and his eyes blank. You laid your tears aside and took his hand.

"We need to go," you told him, your voice wet with tears. He didn't move.

"Doctor, we need to go,"  you told him again calmly. You thought that was why he looked at you suddenly, and then stood up.

He rewired a Host with lightning speed. It took you each under one arm and off you went.

When you broke through the ceiling of the bridge, you were still in one piece. Arms you had used to shield your head were a bit bloody and you were sure there were at least two splinters in them. You don't look the gift horse in the mouth, even though you would prefer a different Christmas miracle.

"What's your first name?" the Doctor asked the injured Midshipman Frame.

He answered in confusion, "Alonzo."

"You're kidding," the Doctor breathed as a shocked smile spread on his face. You didn't know. You just didn't know anymore. You were drowing in the emptiness inside you but his name was Alonzo.

"Allons-y, Alonzo!" the Doctor yelled and you held on tight. You didn't scream. You didn't even open your mouth. There was nothing anymore.

The Doctor whoohooed when he managed to right the course of the ship and you were just there. Were you there? Astrid wasn't. And that was what mattered in the end.

~

"TELEPORT!" the Doctor yelled and it didn't matter. "Y/N, SHE WAS WEARING A TELEPORT BRACELET!!!"

That woke you up. You ran faster than ever before, to the main deck where the teleport was.

"Brixton, sonic," the Doctor demanded from the billionare and caught it as it was thrown. "Mister Copper, the teleports, have they got an emergency setting??"

"I don't know, they should have?"

"She fell, Mister Copper, she fell!" the Doctor told him while pulling apart the machine like a madman. "What's the emergency code?"

The billionare interjected, "What the hell are you doing?"

"We can bring her back!" you yelled with everything in you.

The historian explained, "If a passenger has an accident on shore leave, their molecules are automatically suspended so they're in stasis, so if you just trigger the shift..."

"THERE!!!" the Doctor screamed and flicked the switch.

And there was your Astrid.

"Falling..." You could hear her voice!

"Only halfway there, come on!" The Doctor wasn't finished with the teleporter.

"I keep falling!" She was scared. Your friend was scared and you wanted nothing but to calm her. You carefully walked up to her and took hold of her hand. It felt like holding warm smoke.

There were tears on your cheeks already, again.

"If l can find the molecule grid, boost the restoration matrix and-" The computer snapped and threw sparks. "NO-NO-NO-NO-NO!!" the Doctor screamed in desparation, "need more phase containment-"

You sobbed, but you knew what was coming. You just looked at your Astrid Pith, into her crystal blue eyes and sushed her. "Hey, hey Astrid, it's alright. It's me, it's y/n, remember? You're alright. l've got you," you promised with a voice as soft as sunlight.

She didn't look as scared as before. Then, so slowly you thought you were imagining it, she looked at you.

"Let her go," you could hear the historian and you sobbed again.

But then Astrid's voice cut through. "Stop me falling?" she asked and you nodded. You found her gaze with yours and promised her, "Anything."

"She's just atoms," you heard Mister Copper from behind you. "An echo with a ghost of consciousness."

"She's stardust," you concluded as your voice broke. "You hear that Astrid?" you asked, still looking into her blue eyes."You're stardust."

She didn't seem to hear, so you did the only thing you could think of.

"There's an old tradition," you told her and softly kissed her cheek. Then you kissed the other, and then her forehead.

"You dreamt of traveling," the Doctor came to stand beside you. You were still sobbing when you pulled away from her and you didn't try to stop. There was no one there you needed to save face for.

"Now you can travel forever," you told her. You knew what the Doctor would do, and your eyes didn't leave hers for a moment.

You heard him soothe her, "You're not falling Astrid."

"You're flying," you both said in one voice.

You watched as she floated away, through the window into the universe.

Then you turned to the Doctor and buried your face in his chest as you both cried.

~

"I transferred all my shares to Max Capricorn's rivals. It's made me rich," the billionare Brixton admitted, disbelieving.

You were empty, and you were tired. That was the only reason why you didn't tear this man limb from limb. Astrid was dead.

"Mister Copper," the Doctor's voice woke you up. "I think, you deserve one of these."

You turned around and saw him holding a teleport bracelet out to the historian. Then, after the latter took it, he slipped one on your wrist. He took your hand and suddenly you were standing in the snow.

~

"But l can have a house, and a garden and-" You couldn't help but smile a little. At least Mister Copper would be alright.

The Doctor yelled after him, "Where are you going?"

"I have no idea!" the man replied in joy.

"Well, we don't either," your alien smiled gently at you and you tried to smile back, you really did. He looked at you, his brown eyes full of sorrow, and pulled you to him. You held onto him tightly as he hugged you.

"But! Y/N!" the historian yelled and you turned in his direction.

"I won't forget her," he promised you. You were tired, so so tired, so you just nodded. "Thank you," you told Mister Copper for her. "We won't either."

"We won't," the Doctor assured you softly, just to be sure.

Then he opened the TARDIS door and stepped into your home after you. You walked up the way and then stood in front of the controls, lost.

The Doctor walked up behind you and decided he would do anything, anything to keep away the blank look in your eyes. He turned to you and pulled you to him again. You let him, your movements sluggish and dazed.

"I've got you," he assured you. "I've got you, y/n. You aren't alone, and you aren't lost. You've got me." And that was enough. You sobbed into his chest, you didn't know for which time today.

But this was different. This was yours, and you clung to the Doctor as everything in you came to the surface.

His tears joined yours. He'd lost Astrid too, and he hated seeing you in pain. He slowly brought both of you down to kneel when you were too tired to stand.

And that was it. That was what you needed and that was what you had. You would be alright. In time, you would be alright.