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lightsovermonaco · 3 years ago

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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.”

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval @0forgottenparadise0 @evie-pr @avsensio @ninuffi @lu-morningstar @ggaslyp1 @swiftyhowlz @xeniarocks @teenwaywardasgardian @saintandrea-droidsmuggler

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future updates!

#pierre gasly #pierre gasly fanfiction #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fantasy #formula 1 #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fic #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 rpf #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 fantasy #f1 imagine #f1 rpf #f1 #reader insert #pierre gasly x reader #his good sweater

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grailfinders · 4 years ago

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Fate and Phantasms #134: Kiyohime (Lancer)

Our first summer is nearing its end, but we’re not finished quite yet. Today we’re building Kiyohime once more! Stalk a certain someone, and set ablaze anyone who’d dare come between you two!

Check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

Next up: Watch out WATCH OUT! RKO OUTTA NOWHERE!

Race and Background

Like the other summer servants we’re not changing too much here. Kiyohime’s still a Dragonborn, though her exact color is up to you. If you’d prefer a flavor match, go red or gold. If you want an aesthetic match, go white. Regardless, you get +2 Strength and +1 Wisdom (thanks, Tasha), a Breath Weapon that deals damage based on your color, and Resistance to that damage as well. (Fire for red and gold, cold for white.) You can use this once per short rest, and its saving throw is 8 + your proficiency + your constitution modifier.

You’re also still an Urban Bounty Hunter. Your actual background is rather vague in-game, and this gives you perks for stalking people, giving you proficiency with Insight and Stealth.

Ability Scores

Kiyohime’s a bit of a paradox thanks to how DND groups things in their stats. On one hand, being a good stalker requires good perception, a.k.a., good Wisdom. On the other, she’s got a madness enhancement. Fortunately she’s a lancer now, so there’s less reason to dump that stat. Second is Strength. Your naginata technique could use some work, but you’re enthusiastic, and that’s what counts. After that is Dexterity, because you’re quick on your feet. Your Constitution isn’t amazing, but you’re normally a glass cannon anyway. Your Intelligence isn’t amazing but it’s summer so it’s not like anyone’s going to notice. Finally, dump Charisma. It turns out constantly being on fire makes you unpopular in the middle of a heat wave, who knew?

Class Levels

1. Ranger 1: We’ll get your swimsuit on soon, but first: stalking! First level rangers learn a Favored Enemy, giving you advantage on survival and intelligence checks against them, plus an extra language. Grab Human to better track down your master, and Aasimar to keep tabs on another member of the My Room Trio. I know you have a truce going, but it’s best to play it safe. You’re also Canny, doubling your proficiency with Survival checks for all occasions, not just your favored prey.

Speaking of, you get proficiency with Strength and Dex saves, as well as Athletics, Survival and Perception, all going towards our final goal of becoming the ultimate stalker.

2. Monk 1: Your stalking expertise makes you so observant that you don’t even need armor to protect yourself. Your Unarmored Defense gives you an AC based on your dexterity and wisdom. 14 still isn’t amazing, but we’ll work on it. You also get Martial Arts, making your monk attacks (unarmed attacks and all weapons monks are proficient with) deal at least 1d4 damage, and growing as you level in the class. You can also use dexterity instead of strength when attacking, but you’re a stronk (strong monk), so we won’t be doing that. Also, when you make a monk attack as an action, you can make an unarmed attack as a bonus action. Give it your all, and I’m sure Anchin will notice you!

3. Ranger 2: Second level rangers learn a fighting style, and Dueling will help you deal solid damage with your spear while leaving your hand open for spells, dealing +2 damage with one-handed weapons. Oh, right, you also get Spells this level, they use your Wisdom to cast.

Absorb Elements will help you add a little fire to your attacks right away if you went the white dragon route, and Hunter’s Mark deals extra damage once per turn on your target, and also helps you stalk them no matter who they are, giving advantage on perception and survival checks to find them.

4. Ranger 3: If we want to get serious about this stalking business, we’ve got to turn to the conclave literally named after it. As a Gloom Stalker, you are a Dread Ambusher, adding your wisdom to your initiative. You also start each combat with an extra 10′ of movement your first turn. Also for one turn only, you can make an extra weapon attack, if it hits you deal an extra 1d8 damage.

That’s not all! Your Umbral Sight helps your dumb dragonborn eyes see in the dark, with 60 feet of darkvision. You’re also invisible to other creatures with darkvision when in darkness. That room is cramped at night, it’s hard to find a hiding space.

Like any good ranger, you get Primeval Awareness, burning a spell slot to sense aberrations, celestials, dragons, elementals, fey, fiends, and undead within 1 mile of you. It’s not super in canon, but keeping tags on the competition isn’t a bad idea.

Finally, spells: Searing Smite is a longer burn, for when you really want your opponent to suffer. You also get Disguise Self as a conclave spell.

5. Ranger 4: Use this Ability Score Improvement to bump up your Wisdom for stronger spells and better ambushes.

6. Ranger 5: Fifth level rangers get an Extra Attack each attack action, meaning you can now hit someone four times on your first turn: 2 from your normal attacks, 1 from dread ambusher, and 1 from martial arts. Nobody can say you’re not putting in effort.

You also learn second level spells this level! Locate Object is the closest thing to magical tracking we’re getting, but it’s fine. It’s not like Anchin would ever get rid of that bracelet you gave him, right? You also learn Rope Trick, allowing you to literally pop out of thin air when master shows up.

7. Monk 2: Your tracking’s solid, but we’re not that fast. Thankfully, the second level of monk fixes that with Unarmored Movement, giving you extra speed as you level up, as long as you don’t wear armor. You also get Ki Points equal to your monk level, which you can use to attack twice, dash, disengage, or dodge as a bonus action. They recharge each short rest.

8. Monk 3: You’re supposed to be Kiyohime, but we’ve been disturbingly short on fire so far. Let’s fix that. As a Four Elements monk, you become a Disciple of the Elements, giving you two elemental disciplines that you can spend ki points to activate. Elemental Attunement is free, using your action to perform small elemental effects like sensory effects, lighting candles, warming objects, and shaping elements. If you’re creative you can have fun with it, it’s basically prestidigitation. You also learn Sweeping Cinder Strike, spending 2 ki points to cast Burning Hands using your wisdom.

You can also Deflect Missiles as a reaction, reducing the pain arrows can cause you, and even letting you throw them back if you block all of it. Finally, your Ki-Fueled Attacks let you attack as a bonus action if you spend ki as your main action.

9. Monk 4: I’m allergic to odd numbers, so we’re using this ASI to become a Piercer. Your dexterity rounds out, and once per turn you can re-roll a die of piercing damage. You also deal an extra die of damage when making critical hits with piercing weapons. Turns out, you should use the pointy end. What will they think of next?

10. Monk 5: This extra attack doesn’t stack, but you do learn how to make Stunning Strikes, spending a ki point after attacking a foe to force them to make a constitution save or get stunned for a round. At least it’s not a complete dud.

11. Monk 6: Sixth level monks get Ki Empowered Strikes, making their unarmed attacks magical against resistances. You also learn a new elemental discipline: Clench of the North Wind lets you trap someone in a giant bell by casting Hold Person on them.

12. Ranger 6: Sixth level rangers get one more set of Favored Enemies: Grung finishes off the bedroom trio, but that still leaves you with another humanoid of your choice. You also become Roving, giving you an extra 5 feet of movement speed, as well as a climbing and swimming speed. Now there’s nowhere to run.

13. Monk 7: Evasion seems pretty common in these builds, huh? You probably know the drill by now: dex saves deal half damage on failures, 0 on successes. You also get Stillness of Mind, letting you end an effect that’s frightening or charming you as an action. You only have eyes for Master, after all.

14. Monk 8: Use this ASI to make your Strength even higher for better stabbings.

15. Monk 9: With your Unarmored Movement Improvement, you can now run up walls and over water. Okay, now there’s nowhere to run.

16. Monk 10: Our final level of monk gives you a Purity of Body that makes you immune to disease and poison. Your internal body temperature’s probably pretty high. Plus, you’re saving yourself for master, no germs allowed.

17. Ranger 7: Back in gloom stalker, your Iron Mind gives you proficiency in Wisdom saves. If someone tried to control your mind, that might stop you from killing protecting Anchin, how horrible!

You also learn Pass Without Trace, for advanced stalking techniques.

18. Ranger 8: Use your last ASI to max out your Wisdom for the best survival and perception checks. You’re also Fleet of Foot, letting you ignore nonmagical difficult terrain and plants, as well as giving you advantage on saves against magical plants. Crawling through tight spaces is no problem for you, you practically own the vents in Chaldea.

19. Ranger 9: Ninth level rangers get third level spells. Elemental Weapon lets you add a bit of firepower to your spear and make it magical, while Fear is just your general effect on people.

20. Ranger 10: Our final level makes you Tireless, giving you temporary hp as an action six times per long rest. You also remove levels of exhaustion on short rests now.

You can also Hide in Plain Sight, creating camouflage over a minute that adds +10 to your stealth checks as long as you don’t move from your position. Being a true stalker requires patience, and an intimate knowledge of your prey’s habits. Also, a lot of mud, surprisingly. Covering yourself is easy. Covering the rest of the hallway so you’re disguised? That’s the hard part.

Pros:

With doubled proficiency, a maxed out wisdom stat, and advantage, you make for a pretty good stalker. Track down the love of your life, and don’t take no for an answer!

Finding them is only half the game- the other half is mobility. You’ve got 55 feet of movement speed (65 on the first turn), and you can climb, swim, or just walk on water to reach your goals. Most people can’t outspeed you, and almost nothing can get out of your reach.

Speaking of first turns, you can make five attacks in that first turn of combat. Combine that with something like Elemental Weapon and your already prodigious spear skills and you can deal some serious damage before they even know what hit them.

Cons:

For a melee fighter your HP isn’t amazing, especially with your AC that only reaches 17 by the end of the build. Stay light on your feet, you’ll need it.

Semi-related, but a lot of your spells require concentration, meaning you can’t have them all up at once and you might waste a slot if you get sucker punched after casting.

Monks like bonus actions, Rangers like bonus actions, but you certainly don’t like bonus actions. Basically, you have way too much stuff to keep up with that all use your bonus actions to do so. It’s rare that “too many options” is a bad thing, but here we are.

#Fate and Phantasms #FGO #Kiyohime #D&D 5e #DND #Monk #Ranger

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callistochan87 · 5 years ago

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ly fewelp, I’m only a little bit behind now, bonus

if I were smart I’d try to steal away time at coffee breaks and lunch buuut that doesn’t always work when there’s other people around (and there are usually others around). i don’t work well with others around, asking questions and bothering me

also i like eating lunch

Day 13, Konnie and Serena (Alpha): I was really confused why @erinhime83 put these two together, since all the weekend pairs are either couples, friends, or some other understandable grouping (siblings, I guess?) Then she reminded me there had been a Thing near the end with the two of them, and I was confused because I didn’t remember that, so I went to check.

Nothing there.

I was ???

Then I went to check the first version. The first version has all of the elements of CS that I actually like and that somehow wound up getting cut in the second draft rewrite, like Thanatos Omega getting brutally murdered and Thanatos Delta going insane about it. (There are a couple of elements of the second draft that I like, like Thanatos Omega kidnapping Christine and Eric without them even realizing it, because Thanatos Omega isn’t stupid, he knows Thanatos Prime sets incredibly easy password questions, so it’s really easy to trick them into thinking they’re going with another version of him.)

But I think the first version is--for the most part--the superior version. The only reason I wanted to rewrite was to incorporate more aliens into the research team on Veive (Chidyl and Dr. Max, mostly), mostly to give a sense that there were more than two species out there and that this was some proper interstellar civilization. Sure, they’re minor characters, not much happened with them at all, but they were there, and you will take my crotchety old man cat alien doctor from my cold, dead hands

But the major plot points were better executed in the first version.

Except for the ending. The ending was one thing I had trouble with, because it pretty explicitly incorporates @erinhime83‘s Earthia universe into it. Which is fine for a story that won't see the light of day, but might screw me over if I ever tried to publish, self- or otherwise. (I keep saying this. I want it to be published, but not enough to actually do it.)

The actual concept is fine enough: Amina actually does what she intends to do and discovers a new dimension/timeline that’s so different from the one they know (the mythical “Elders”, which totally are not the “angels” from Sixth Epoch in a new name, at all, never left the planet and never stopped interfering--the Erebians are at constant war with them, and the few humans remaining are mostly their slaves/science experiments, hardly enough to make a co-civilization) that they can’t use their shared ciltural knowledge to figure out what’s going on, because this new timeline does not share the same history. If Prime, Delta, and Omega are essentially the same “basic” history up until a certain point, when things start diverging, then this new universe forked off long before them and went in a radically different direction.

But of course, the issue is that I explicitly brought in Earthia’s Alliance into it: in this universe, Erebus (and, I suppose by extension, Veive) is a part of the Cosmic Alliance of Worlds, the sort of “bad guy” (not really) equivalent to the Helian Federation of Planets. I’d hinted at it in the original story, where they were frequently contacted by the “Thanatians” wishing them to join their alliance, and every civilization there was pretty adamant that they weren’t going to do that and they could eff right off, so it was sort of a fun way to bring that full circle: this new universe is so different that ha, guess what, they actually did join the Alliance (and the Alliance is helping them out with their war against the Elders, because idk, something something, Erebus had some sort of mineral or element in abundance that the Alliance needed and the Empress of the Erebians would only allow them access if they helped out towards the war, something something diplomacy)

So Serena there was an Alliance crew member. The concept of every dimension having some sort of counterpart, and those counterparts having similar names, is something I’m absolutely rethinking (I’m thinking some people exist in some timelines, but not in others, or if they do, they don’t look identical or may be called something different), but that’s small enough that I don’t need to actually rewrite, just edit. But there was a Serena there, she was distantly related to the Empress, she was presumably from Veive and was thus the Veivean version of the Erebians (taller, skinner, more bipedal and with more hair, bigger eyes, darker skin), because the Erebians still established a colony on another planet. Anyway, Serena Alpha (the name for this new timeline, sort of cobbled together) was...not unlike Konnie in that she was a little fond of boasting: her species has more slow-twitch muscle fibres or lean muscle mass, or something that results in more brute strength than humans, kind of like gorillas--I imagine the catch is that they’re more prone to tears and damage, especially the more willowy, lower-gravity Veiveans, but the point is, she has more strength, and Konnie is impressed by that. Konnie grew up with...what, five? Six? brothers and so was used to roughhousing and disinterested in traditionally feminine stuff, so I suppose this was the appeal.

Since the story is from Christine’s POV, and she got there after the Alliance ship (Stargazer, afaik) had rescued them, she didn’t see the build up, but the group pretty explicitly joked that Konnie and Serena Alpha were girlfriends and they were staying in the same cabin, sooo

Well, it made sense once I reread that, but I’d literally forgotten I’d wrote that, and then I got mad at myself for rewriting just to include a couple more aliens when this was pretty good, Earthia issues aside. I mean, the ending was a bit too lighthearted (everyone shacked up with an Alliance member in a sort of “what happens in the Alpha-verse stays in the Alpha-verse” way! Although I have an absurd fondness for the antics of Zandy and Jaik and I know they will likely never see time in Earthia but they are there to me.) but it was still fun.

(Sidebar: I had a thought that what if there was a version of Ruth in the Alpha timeline of Earth, which is apparently Earthia’s universe I guess? Except she never got beamed to space and converted to antimatter in a horribly botched conversion that destroyed her physical body, instead she’s an old professor with tenure teaching astronomy or something at a university down south somewhere (Louisiana?), like she was before she was beamed up. Except I can’t remember if Earthia takes place a little bit in the future? Ruth was afaik beamed up in the...’70s? ‘80s? in our timeline and was old enough then to have had literal polio as a kid that caused her game leg, so if Earthia is in the future, she’d either be really old or dead. Unless Helian technology makes people live longer, but still, definitely retirement age, and not likely for Kai to meet her unless she achieved some sort of prominence, which...isn’t likely.

Although she seems like the sort of badass to keep her maiden name (Kendrick), even if she’d be married to someone else. In earlier versions, Theophanes was sort of a stuffy author type, a bit pretentious but not snobby, so I see Dr. Ruth Kendrick Alpha married to some poet from the English department or something, who writes pulpy sci-fi on the side. Sales went down when literal aliens showed up on Earth’s doorstep, not that he sold a ton to begin with.

That was a hell of a diversion but ANYWAY, that was the reason these two are paired up, and I like this enough I might try to draw a version where Serena isn’t in the Alliance uniform. I’m just glad I was able to find a reference for the new Alliance uniform. Tumblr’s search sucks and the infinite scroll sucks even more for finding old stuff.

(Note to self: I changed a bit more about the Erebians so it’d probably be useful to draw a proper picture someday. All it is is a lack of obvious breasts since their snout-like nose makes it less required but it’s still something--she’s still biologically female.)

Also I’d forgotten Konnie had been described as having eyes with a bit of a crease, like she had some Asian ancestry in her even though it’s really just genetics going WAUGH after so much mixing, but I tried to incorporate that, with the sort of puffiness under her eyes when she smiles.

Day 14, Gabby: The inks don’t quite look as nice as the sketch, but it’s workable. I like how she turned out. I think I referenced Mew Azama? If PGSM Sailor Jupiter isn’t good enough for Gabby, then who is?? :P Also thank goodness for brush pens, they make blocking in all that hair so much easier.

Day 15, Carmen: @erinhime83 wrote some stuff about Carmen and who she was before, and that’s fine, but...I really don’t know what to do with her any more?? When you have a group of seven people but only one POV it’s really hard to find meaningful stuff for them to do, and I feel as if Carmen (and to a lesser extent, Julia and Keiko) just kind of got shoved off to one side? I think I was going for the “she’s socially awkward” angle at one point because there’s a mention that Carmen has to be reminded that not everyone wants to talk about the things she does and that sometimes you have to talk about other stuff, but I can’t remember her really doing anything notable. This picture turned out nice, even if her neck’s a bit long, but I picture her with a very round face and this nailed it.

Her story is a bit sad, in the sense that all of them are descended from a bunch of people who fled the antimatter universe (in fear of their lives), but like, her dad (the alien) just straight up left either when she was a baby or before she was born, plunging her mother into a deep depression that’s sort of coloured her entire world (never remarried, never so much as dated, Carmen’s just lived alone with her as far as anyone else knows). So everyone else can go to their families for answers, but Carmen’s mother is just a regular human and has no idea, the one person Carmen could ask just isn’t in her life. If I remember right he set up another family, a “real” family (inasmuch as he actually married this woman and has children that he didn’t abandon with her and shows up in public with her), sometime later (I can’t remember if I ever mentioned whether or not Carmen’s parents were married? Maybe they weren’t) and then contacted her on Facebook (as one does) but she’d never contacted him back. She seemed fairly conflicted about it but like, I don’t even know what it is he did back in the antimatter universe.

Maybe he was just a spoiled dick even there (when your mom’s a queen, even if it’s an elected one or whatever janky system I set up, you can probably get away with some shit so long as you don’t piss Mom off too badly), but like, I imagine he ran away because literally the...what, seven? Ten? other people living in the same city, that knew who he was and what he did, were all ready to call him out on his shit the second he got Carmen’s mother pregnant, because they all knew what he was like but Mommy wasn’t around to bust his ass for embarrassing her name, so someone had to. Jadi Samora (who took the laziest route ever and Anglicized his name to John Seymour, just saying) be held accountable for his actions? Or deal with his emotions? NOT TODAY, PEACE OUT Y’ALL.

But anyway, none of that really come through the story, and why should it, if it’s not Carmen’s POV? Like I said, I don’t know what to do with her sometimes, although the art is nice. (Sidenote: I picture her, at least in terms of facial structure, looking very much like her paternal grandmother, Eritha. She also had Eritha’s eyes, I think I remember correctly. I feel like this idea could be expanded on in-story but I’m not sure how.)

Also her outfit hasn’t really changed, I’m just lazy. Lazy enough that I just threw her hair in a ponytail and called it a day, but it looks pretty good.

#Inktober #my art #my stories #My characters #earthia #Other people's OCs #other people's stories

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acradaunt · 6 years ago

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EON Playthrough - Week 3

Have to take back what I said about not getting my fill of the sixth stratum. Its associated mini-dungeon gave me more than enough of the region's sliding floor puzzles. Etrian Odyssey definitely slips into puzzle-game territory at certain points, usually regarding avoiding FOEs, but this is possibly the most complex it's ever gotten. Think I spent like two hours just boring holes into the DS's screen trying to figure the sliding-tile puzzles out.

About them, I've thus far liked the mini-dungeons a decent amount. They usually show up a short while after finishing their associated dungeon, and basically act as an optional bonus floor with one extra-hard enemy showing up in random encounters. While I could certainly do with some enemy setups just being like six normal enemies instead of the new guy ALWAYS being in the encounters, it's still reasonable enough. Since they all have bosses so far, it's a way for the game to put in optional bosses during the main game, instead of backloading literally a dozen of them all at once at the lvl 70 mark. Or 99, as the case may now be.

But forget about all that. So I got the ability to subclass far, far sooner than I expected. I heard frequently that it wasn't unlocked until extremely late in the game. I got it when my highest level person was 45. I was expecting around 55-60, since it only follows suit after getting veteran skills at 20 and masters at 40. Yes, that would be stupidly late in any other EO game, but since I also know the level cap is 130, not 99, I also expect to be fighting the 'story' final boss at around 90 instead of ~65.

So yeah, rather than talk about my 'main' party this week, (they're doing fine; stratum 7 was quite enjoyable actually, and 8 was tremendously short but had some tricky encounters; the general immunity to pierce attacks saw Olga take a break for Stella, of all people; she still performed poorly, but better than Olga was faring), let's talk about the more eclectic things I've come up with for subclassing. You've got a whopping 60 slots for characters, so of course I've got ideas for all of them. Lots are fairly predictable, so again, eclectic ideas.

Kahna the Landsknecht / Harbinger - I mentioned before finding Coral, my Shield-oriented Landsknecht, to underperform at Linking due to her only average speed. And that's fine, for her. But for Kahna, the hardcore Linker, I needed something more. Nightseeker and others with Speed Up seemed obvious options, but Harb struck a better chord for me. Sure, Miasma's speed bonus is time-limited, but it provides a little extra defense, AND the Lands' Shield skills count as debuffs as far as it's concerned, so it can reactivate Miasma Armour. So yeah, it seems those Shield Breaks are inescapable, haha. Looking back, perhaps Shogun's bonus for multi-hits would be better for Linking, but ah well. Better to guarantee that speed than have better Links at the cost of being so slow the others all went first. And yes, she has seen some use, unlike the rest, hence the higher levels. For random battles, Links are generally better than Breaks, and being a Landsknecht makes it trivially easy for her and Coral to swap gear. For some inexplicable reason, I'm currently avoiding getting my levels too high. I feel bad when I enter a new area, and the game thinks I should bust up the FOEs here and now. Though they're finally back to being red on arrival, so I dunno anymore. Terminal Alt-itis, I suppose.

Rana the Medic / Pugilist - Monks were the Medics of EOIII, but they were supposed to have pretty different feel to them. Honestly, the fists skills didn't quite pan out in my experience, but I still like their design, even (especially?) if it's more than a little familiar-looking. I've gone at length about the virtues of Medics, and while Pugilists don't do much damage, even less-so from the back, running their binds is more productive than spamming Star Drop again and again. Resonance (does more damage the longer between uses) adds a big-damage option for when there's a safe turn later in the fight. So Rana can heal, bind, debuff, and maybe even do okay damage. Pretty anything-goes, if you ask me.

Tasha the Hero / Gunner - I wasn't very fond of Dragoons at first, but upon playing around with them, their brand of defense kind of grew on me. I see lots of parallels between them and Heros, even if it's not straightforward. Gunmount's two turns of defense and an attack got turned into Physical Shield's defense then a turn-end attack, their unusual adeptness with ranged attacks is innately gun-like, and, um, Afterimages resemble Bunkers if you blind yourself hard enough. Anyway, there's not a lot to this beyond the obvious. A burly shielder with hugely devastating gun attacks for when the coast is clear. Iris is of a similar spice as Protector / Imperial, but this is admittedly a little more versatile, if a less effective guardian.

Keith the Gunner / Landsknecht - On the other end of Dragoon was Buster Cannon, taking a full three turns to properly set up and wanting point-blank range. Gunner's Charged attacks are as close as Nexus comes, but why not take it a step further? Rather than be unbearably slow, a Landy's Vanguard makes them act first, and stronger too. So they can get multiple big bangs off in a few turns, safer and faster than Act Quick could ever hope for. Plus, they get their shield back this way!

Tate the Arcanist / Harbinger - I fumbled between every variation of these two, Medic, and even Survivalist before deciding this fits my Brouni the best. Incidentally, Odette the Hexer is the reverse of this. I always wanted Tate to use Scythes in EOV, since Botanists had access to them, but it never proved practical; Coral's Chains requiring pierce damage to proc pretty much demanded her to use a bow. Which was fine, too. Especially with that endgame bow doing mass Defense-downs. So Arcanist fits with both her steady healing but moreso her Smokes. Auto Chaos Smoke saved my butt SOOO often in EOV's brutal 6th stratum. Harb gives her the Scythe she never managed before, and a debuff or two are back, and who knows, any magical Scythe skills are gonna to preeetty good damage in her hands. And guess what the second WOE just happened to drop?

Stella the Zodiac / Protector - Sounds like a terrible idea on paper, like Stella might take more hits to her incredibly vulnerable face. But that there was the main thought. Her face. Next to dying randomly, a mage's biggest problem is getting binded and being useless for 2-5 turns. So, by giving her hands something to do, she can at least protect others while damage reduction. It's not exactly a Runemaster's Runes, but hey, it's still a form of defense, so it still gets some points for faithfulness. Shields also give her something to do against the numerous enemies who just shrug off elemental damage.

Camus the Protector / Highlander - Perhaps an obvious one, but still sounds brutal on paper. Shield Flare counters any damage he takes for two turns. Bloodlust means he'll counter any time he takes damage. Put 'em together with Taunt, and that's a big owie for anyone who messes with him. Highlander comes with all the physical passives for keeping him alive longer, too.

Melody the Ninja / Sovereign - Even as weakened as Ninja's Clones are, Sovereign's relative independence of its skills makes it an ideal pick. Get those buffs out there at record speed, and those Elemental Arms come cheaper, can be restored faster, and still hit reasonably hard, as Ninjas have pretty decent Int.

Myst the Pugilist / Nightseeker - I always find it fascinating to try and make characters for whom basic attacks aren't just viable, but actually better than skills under normal circumstances. Pugilist / Nightseeker grants 4-8 basic attacks, and with Elemental Arms on, that's nothing to scoff at. To say nothing of its ability to activate Links or War Might...

...Okay, that should be plenty. Obviously, I've got no limit to characters, but lots are pretty predictable or unremarkable combos. Ninja/Ronin, Nightseeker/WarMagus, Sovereign/Medic, Shogun/Highlander, Imperial/Zodiac, Protector/Gunner, Ninja/Pugilist, and so on and so forth. You get the idea.

#Etrian Odyssey #Etrian Odyssey Nexus #EON #EOX #EO #EO Nexus

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writinanon · 7 years ago

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The Rook Head Canon

This is the long and short of the things that take place in the Rook’s story and if anyone has any questions or ideas feel free to suggest things.

Maria ‘Rook’ Seed is what is known as an Undying, someone that was supposed to die, was destined to die, but refused to die. Basically, her Soul rejected Death and fought its way back to the land of the living. This means that no mortal means can kill her, and several immortal ones are out of the picture as well because they rely on making her mortal and that’s physically impossible now. It is precisely because she is an Undying that Mephistopheles sought her out and used her to take the Throne of Hell. She became his Rook, the ace in the hole that could trump anything any opponent threw at him. As such she now goes by the name Rook, often preferring it to her given Name because she earned it.

She has the added bonus of being what’s known as a Mystic: someone that received visions and can actually speak directly to God but is not a prophet. She gets this from her biological father, Joseph Seed. She however doesn’t keep the channel open or try to actively commune with Heaven because they sentenced her to Death when she was born too early. She doesn’t blame Joseph for her death, she does blame him for forcefully converting people and all the other terrible things that the Cult does.

Because of both of these things her mother’s family abandons her not long after ‘weird’ things start to happen around her. All manner of Beings are drawn to someone that is Undying good, bad, indifferent all of them want to have an Undying in their good graces because Undying aren’t limited in the Realms they can travel. They are undead, they are alive, they are not bound by the chains of mortality any longer. Rook bounces from group homes and orphanages until a Demon with his eye on the Throne finally manages to pin her down.

Rook first starts to work for Mephistopheles when she’s roughly nine. He gives her a nice place to sleep, food, clothes, and any entertainment she wants for when she’s not working. She does odd jobs at first, running potions and grimoires back and forth more of an errand girl than someone that can take on legions of the damned. This changes after she starts to pick up tricks from the various witches, warlocks, demons, and denizens of the Underworld that she ferries items to and from. At thirteen she starts protecting Mephistopheles during his Deals and shortly thereafter, as she hits sixteen, she is the one sent on his behalf to grease the wheels, with charm or blood it doesn’t matter as long as she gets the results her boss is looking for. She doesn’t actually fight in a battle until she’s twenty, and when she does she decimates a legion of Demons at the command of Belphegor, taking out one of his arms at the same time. After that stunning display of power many who were opposed to Mephistopheles sang a different tune and it was her job to root out those that could be loyal with those that wanted to stab them both in the back.

The dust settled roughly eight months before the start of the game, around Rook’s 24th birthday. Mephistopheles sits on the Throne of Hell, the Angels that backed them and actually helped to get a Ruler in Hell (because the Chaos and anarchy that was reigning was causing massive problems for the boys upstairs) have gone back to trying to keep the world turning, and Rook is trying to reconcile her life.

She picked Hope County by instinct, her Mystic Blood seeking out its kin. She joined the Sheriff’s Department mostly because she had no college experience and a fake high school diploma and that was it. Deputy Sheriff was one of the only jobs that she could see herself doing given those factors. She went through the necessary training, breezing through it thanks to her previous employment. She was just starting to figure out that the Seeds that everyone was talking about were actually her biological relatives when the video of Joseph killing a man surfaced and everything tumbled out of control from there.

Rook is effectively mute; her vocal cords being damaged from being born too early as well as being smothered. This doesn’t mean she can’t get her point across. She uses American Sign Language as well as plant symbolism and straight actions to convey her meanings. However she can speak, but if you were to actually hear her speak it wouldn’t be pleasant because she speaks with the voice of a Demon and she doesn’t speak mortal tongues.

Rook doesn’t have her Wrath Tattoo yet, I’m debating on if she’ll actually get it or not because she doesn’t speak with words so having words on her skin would go against the grain for her and she wouldn’t sit still and allow John to tattoo her unless she was assured it would be something she approved of.

She does have several personal tattoos on her body. It should also be noted that all of her tattoos are magical, having been done by Witches (and one by Mephistopheles himself not that he’ll ever admit to it). Also, Rook is basically raised a few steps above Hell so an 11-year-old getting a tattoo? Not really a big deal to them (I want to reiterate that I do not condone getting tattoos without parent’s permission or being of the age of consent for your area)

On her shoulders she has witch-hazel intertwined with oak leaves, stinging nettles, and white heather they curl from her left bicep up over her shoulder, behind her neck, back across her right shoulder to curl around her right bicep.

It is a spell of protection and strength of life and death. (Witch-hazel = A Magic Spell, Oak Leaves = Strength, Stringing Nettles = life and Death, and White Heather = protection) This is her first set of tattoos, Mephistopheles insists she gets some form of protection in her skin since she refuses to wear armor. These are the tattoos he did himself. These are her only protective tattoos.

Creeping across the left side of her ribcage are rainflowers and rosemary in a nest of ivy. This is a promise of remembrance as well as repentance; her mother died because of her and she feels she has to make up for that. (Rainflower = I must atone for my sins, Ivy = Endurance, and Rosemary = Remembrance) These are her fourth set of tattoos after she’s old enough to handle finding out what happened to her birth family.

She has a laurel around her hips that are made up of ambrosia, mignonette, and cloves meaning that she is worthy of not only giving love but receiving it, eternally as hers is ‘undying’ Mephistopheles groaned when he noticed that the teenager had worked in a pun into the ink in her skin. (Ambrosia = Love is reciprocated, Clove = Undying love, and Mignonette = Worth) She gets these done at the same time as the ones on her ribcage and are her fifth tattoo.

Rook also has two cards from the Major Arcana on each of her arms, on her triceps she has Death on her left arm and the Wheel of Fortune on her right. Inside the crook of her elbow on her forearms she has the Chariot on her left arm and Strength on her right.

Death in Major Arcana doesn’t actually mean physical death. Typically, it does imply an end (a relationship, interest, or anything really, like a normal life) and implies an increased sense of self-awareness, a complete change of thinking from an old way into a new way. The deepest meaning of the card is that nothing and no one can stop change. This is her second tattoo but the first tattoo she gets on her own desire and is placed on her left tricep as that is the part of her arm that rests closest to her heart.

The Wheel of Fortune is the introduction of elements of change in the Seeker’s life (things like gaining wealth or losing it, having family or losing family, gaining the attention of a powerful Demon and being taken in and becoming much more than she was). On the top of the wheel is a sphinx, there to remind that staying stable amidst turmoil and using reasoning grants the power to change your life instead of staying at the mercy of chance. This is the third tattoo she gets, after she starts to protect Mephistopheles during his Deals and her life starts to become unbalanced and she needs to find a way to keep her feet steady.

The Chariot is about balance; the Seeker uses the energy provided from both positive and negative sources to balance and come to the correct path. If the Seeker is already balanced the Chariot calls for the Seeker to tread cautiously and wield their new power of clarity with discipline and care; reject the temptations of aggressions and look to the most peaceful route. This is the sixth and second to last tattoo she got she got it after the first big battle she was in, knowing that she would have to fight to survive but needing to remind herself that active pursuit of aggression would cause her more suffering.

Strength comes in the form of a Crowned Woman and a Lion. The Crown typically represents enlightenment and spiritual powers, with the lion representing animal passions and earthly cravings. The Woman is the balance between the two. This is her seventh and last tattoo Rook got, attempting to symbolize her reconciliation of her past and present into a peaceful future.

For the Demonic World she inhabits there are a few key things to know:

There are two levels to Demonic and Angelic, Upper and Lower. Lower Angelic and Upper Demonic are actually the same thing but don't tell Angels that (Lucifer, Azazel, Satan, and most of the Top 'Baddies' of Hell are former Angels), and so Upper Angelic sounds like indistinguishable chanting/singing, Lower Angelic/Upper Demonic sounds like harp/guitar depending on the tone used if it’s a calm and light tone it tends to be harp or light acoustic guitar but if its a harsh tone it’s heavy guitar or string stabs of a harp, and Lower Demonic sounds like animals screaming (depending on the person its a different sound Rook is a barn owl)

Rook mainly talks in Lower Demonic. Most of the Demons that she was raised around preferred to speak in Lower and not be seen as pretentious or didn’t want to invite the comparison to Angels. She does know both Upper Demonic and Upper Angelic because of some of her allies in the War for the Throne but she rarely uses them preferring to speak like her ‘Family’ does. It’s super distressing to Faith, John, and Joseph. Faith because she can almost understand without understanding and it worries her. Joseph because it’s Demonic and wouldn’t she prefer Angelic? And John because though her mouth forms words the only sound that comes out are the cries and calls of a Barn Owl and he just can’t wrap his head around it. (Rook trolls John by saying Yes like this once it’s established that she can speak it frightens and frustrates him to no end because how is he supposed to get her to confess and join the Cult so they can be Family if he can’t understand what she’s saying?) Jacob thinks she would sound cooler if it was howling and after the initial shock/unsettling sight of seeing her mouth forming words but only hearing piercing shrieks. Also if she teaches him will he sound like an owl or can he sound like a wolf? The short answer is no he won’t sound like a Wolf if Rook teaches him because her ‘accent’ as they call it comes from birds (Mephistopheles is a Peacock as would John be if he ever wanted to learn but he doesn’t, keep the Demon Tongue far away from him). However he agrees to have Rook teach him because his only option for Canine is Asmodeus, he is a Fox, and there is no way in hell he’s going to spend more time than he has to around Asmodeus. So Once he finally learns his accent is a Red Tailed Hawk.

Mephistopheles is the King of Hell, Ruler of Dis, and Chief of Destruction. Rook wasn’t the only one that helped to put him on the Throne but she was one of the things that tipped the scales heavily in his favor. This doesn’t mean that Mephistopheles is a bad guy, true he picked Rook up to use her for his own purposes but knew that kindness bred better loyalty than cruelty and set out to try and raise her. He is a Demon he doesn’t understand the basics for raising a human properly. However he does love her deeply and will kill anyone that tries to hurt her. He shows his love by letting her cuddle with him or by cuddling with her willingly. He also did the first tattoos on her body and wove a lot of protective magic into them, making her skin like light armor.

Mephistopheles doesn’t think he needs a human name but will allow people to call him ‘Phil’ if it helps the pathetic humans.

Amon is the Grand Master of Knowledge and Commander of 40 of Hell’s Legions. She’s the one that taught Rook everything she knows about magic as well as most of her knowledge of the Human World. A lot of it is outdated but it’s also more accurate than modern schooling. She tried to give Rook more human lessons but Berith and Asmodeus overrode her and pushed for more magic.

Amon currently doesn’t have a ‘Human’ name and any ideas for it would be welcomed.

Berith is the King of Wrath and General of Hell’s Armies after Mephistopheles takes over. She trained Rook and saw to it that she was strong and has a vast knowledge of combat. She is also the Master of Hounds and has a Pack of Hellhounds with her almost always.

In the Human World she goes by the name Hilda.

Asmodeus is Mephistopheles’ brother. He considers himself a dutiful uncle and tries to get Rook to loosen up and have a good time but when that fails he gives her tips on how to use her beauty to kill. He’s just kind of there and likes to hang around even though he doesn’t really do things. He likes spending time with Family though he’s loath to admit to this.

Asmodeus doesn’t have a 'Human’ name yet either so any help with him would be cool too. Remember it’s gotta be sexy and unisex because Asmodeus considered himself a him but is no opposed to taking a female form for a while and being a her.

#The Rook #Maria Seed #Some background information about her and the people/world she lives in

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