#be more than this. now or never you guess.

[hoonstqr]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ۫ 𓈒 PUNISH ME, OFFICER ♩

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ────𝗐𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌

警告 : smut, sensory deprivation, porn, bondage, p in v, unprotected sex, dildo fucking, edging, over stimulation, blowjob, organism denial, degradation 2893 for my pretty waifu @kikidoul. actually wrote this for jeno a while back but never posted so now its revamped + edited ><

ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ( ៸៸ ´ `) 𝑜 ──── REBLOG FOR A KiSS !

"babe, i'm home," sunghoon called out as he kicked off his boots, the heavy thud echoing through the quiet apartment. he hung his keys by the door, the metal jingling against the wooden board, and tossed his uniform jacket onto the nearby chair. he had come home earlier than expected, hoping to surprise you with a romantic dinner before his shift started again.

no response? weird, you must be in the bathroom.

as sunghoon approached the bedroom, the faint sound of running water grew louder. he could hear the steady rhythm of the shower echoing through the hallway. he sat on the bed as his gaze fell upon your laptop, lying open on the bed. the screen was alight with a video that made his eyes widen in shock and his heart quicken in a mix of arousal and disbelief. a girl, handcuffed to the bed, was being thoroughly ravished by a man dressed in police gear.

his mind raced as he watched the scene unfold. this was your dirty little secret? seems like his pretty bimbo wife is not so innocent after all.

suddenly, the sound of the shower turning off snapped him out of his trance. your bare feet pattered against the cold tiles, water dripping onto the floor. you emerged from the steamy bathroom, your skin glowing and your hair plastered to your body under a thin white towel. your eyes widened when you saw sunghoon sitting on the bed, his gaze glued to the laptop screen. "oh, sunghoon, you're home already?" you squeaked.

mortification crawled up your spine as you realized what he must be watching. your cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and your breath hitched in your throat. the video was still playing, the woman's moans filling the room like an awkward soundtrack to your humiliation. you fumbled with the towel, trying to cover yourself more, as sunghoon's eyes flickered from the screen to your flustered face and back.

"i, uh, i can explain," you began, your voice trembling slightly. but the words got caught in your mouth like a mouthful of cotton. the sight of his strong, authoritative figure sitting there, his eyes dark with a mix of emotions, made your knees wobble.

sunghoon's gaze didn't waver from the screen, the man's handcuffs glinting under the artificial light. "you've been watching some… interesting content." he replied dryly as if you hadn't been caught watching porn about his damned profession.

you stumbled over your words, trying to come up with a coherent explanation, but your mind was a jumble of thoughts and emotions. the air in the room grew thick with tension as the video played on, the woman's cries growing louder with each passing second. "i never knew you had a thing for… this," he said, gesturing towards the laptop, his voice a cocktail of surprise and accusation.

sunghoon's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched. you could see the gears turning in his head as he processed the scene before him. your heart hammered in your chest as he closed the laptop with a firm snap, the sound reverberating through the room like a gunshot. the sudden silence was deafening, only the dull throb of your pulse and the faint sound of your breath filled the space between you.

he stood up, inching closer to you, his movements deliberate and controlled. you took a shaky step backward, the coldness of the wall against your wet skin sending a shiver down your spine. your eyes remained glued to his, searching for any hint of what was coming next.

sunghoon leaned in, his warm breath ghosting against your neck. "who could've guessed my sweet innocent wife had such wild fantasies," he murmured, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. your body responded with a shiver of anticipation. was he mad? was he… intrigued?

before you could say another word, his strong arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you easily and pushing you back onto the bed. the mattress dipped under your weight, the towel slipping away to reveal your naked form. you felt exposed and vulnerable, but also… excited?

his hand reached for the nightstand drawer, and you watched with bated breath as he pulled out a set of handcuffs, the metal cold and unyielding. your eyes went wide as he held them up, the glint of them catching the light from the bedside lamp. "i guess it's time to play," he says huskily, sending a thrill through your core.

before you could even process his intentions, sunghoon had grabbed your wrist and secured the first handcuff around it, the cold metal biting into your skin. your pulse raced as he leaned over you, his gaze never leaving yours as he reached for the other wrist, cuffing it to the opposite side of the bedframe.

his eyes searched yours for any sign of protest, but all he found was a blend of surprise and desire. "you're okay with this?" he asked, his voice thick with lust. you nodded frantically, unable to form words. he smirked, knowing full well you'd never be able to hide your desires from him again.

sunghoon then stood up, the mattress springing back to life with his release. his footsteps were heavy as he approached the closet, the wood of the floor creaking under his weight. the door swung open with a low groan, revealing your most intimate secrets. his eyes scanned the contents, resting on the monster dildo you had hidden at the back. a smug smile spread across his face as he reached for the shelf, his hand wrapping around the thick base.

how did he even know about it?!

his eyes gleamed with a newfound hunger as he approached the bed. your heart thumped against your ribcage, the anticipation building to an almost unbearable crescendo. you watched as he unbuckled his belt, the leather whispering against the fabric of his pants. his zipper was the next to give way, revealing the bulge that had formed in his boxers.

sunghoon grabbed the dildo, stroking it almost lovingly as he climbed onto the bed. he positioned himself between your legs, his eyes never leaving yours. you felt the mattress shift and sink beneath his weight as he leaned over you, the dildo's tip brushing against your sensitive folds. you gasped, the sensation sending a bolt of electricity through your body.

his hand moved the toy in slow, teasing circles around your clit. "h-hoonie, please," you whimpered, your body arching off the bed, begging for more. the handcuffs dug into your skin as you struggled to get closer to the sweet torment he was inflicting upon you.

sunghoon chuckled low in his throat, a dark, sexy sound that sent shivers down your spine. "patience, baby," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "i want to hear you beg."

his grip on the dildo tightened, and he began to apply more pressure. you could feel yourself getting wetter, your body responding to his touch despite the handcuffs that kept you helpless. he dragged the toy along the length of your slit, teasing you mercilessly. your hips bucked, trying to get more friction, but the cold metal of the handcuffs kept you in place, taunting you with their unforgiving embrace.

sunghoon watched your reactions with a smirk, his eyes gleaming with the power he now held over you. "nngh, please," you whimpered, the word barely audible. he leaned down and whispered, "i want to hear you scream." with that, he pushed the dildo inside you, the intrusion making you gasp.

you felt yourself stretch around the thickness, your body clenching and unclenching, trying to adjust to the unyielding object. sunghoon's movements were deliberate and slow, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in, letting you feel every inch of the toy. your eyes squeezed shut, your teeth gritted, as he edged you closer to the precipice of pleasure. the handcuffs bit into your wrists as you tried to grab onto the bed, seeking any purchase to control the sensations overwhelming you.

his hand moved in a steady rhythm, the sound of the dildo's base slapping against your skin echoing in the room. you could feel your orgasm building, a coil of tension tightening in your belly. your breaths grew shorter, your chest rising and falling rapidly. "h-hoon," you begged, your voice a desperate whine. "i'm so close."

with each thrust, the dildo hit that sweet spot inside you, the pressure mounting until you thought you might shatter. your eyes watered, not from pain, but from the intensity of the pleasure that was building, threatening to consume you whole. "please, hoon, i'm gonna…" your voice trailed off into a high-pitched whine as he continued to drive the toy into you.

then, just as you felt the beginnings of your climax, he abruptly pulled the dildo out, leaving you gasping and quivering. your eyes snapped open to meet his, the betrayal and need reflected in them. "please," you choked out, your voice thick with desperation. "please, let me cum."

his smirk grew wicked as he reached for his own zipper, pulling it down slowly. his erection sprang free, thick and heavy, making your mouth water and your pussy ache for his touch. "not yet," he whispered, his eyes never leaving yours. "not until i say so."

he grabbed the handcuffs attached to the bedframe and rattled them playfully. the sound sent a jolt of excitement through your body, mixing with the frustration of being so close to release and yet so far.

sunghoon climbed off the bed and removed his clothes, revealing his toned chest and abs, the muscles rippling as he moved. his cock stood erect, a testament to his arousal from watching you squirm under his control. you bit your bottom lip, unable to take your eyes off him as he sits infront of you, his eyes never leaving yours.

he flicks the dildo back on and the gentle hum of the vibration fills the room. you feel the heat rising in your cheeks as he takes a moment to admire the toy glistening with your arousal. "so wet for me, aren't you?" he says, his voice gruff with need. "so desperate to get fucked like a slut."

sunghoon strokes his cock, his eyes never leaving yours as he watches you squirm. the sight of his strong hand wrapped around his shaft, moving in rhythm with the dildo inside you, sends waves of heat through your body. you bite your lip to stifle a moan, the frustration of being so close to climax yet denied it by his teasing driving you wild.

his grip tightens, his strokes becoming more erratic as he watches the dildo move in and out of you, your juices coating it with every thrust. you can see the veins in his neck bulging, his pupils dilated with lust. the handcuffs dig into your skin as you try to hold onto the bed, your body begging for release.

his eyes never leave yours as he jerks his cock, the precum glistening at the tip. "you like being my little fuck toy, don't you?" he asks, his voice a gravelly whisper. you nod, unable to form words as the pleasure builds within you.

just as you feel the first spasm of your orgasm, the telltale sign of release, sunghoon reaches over and flicks off the dildo. the sudden absence of the vibration leaves you panting, your body strung tight like a bow ready to snap. "n-no, hoon, please," you whine, your voice desperate.

his eyes dance with mischief as he watches your frustration, his hand still stroking his own cock, now slick with pre-cum. "not yet," he repeats, his voice a dark promise. your hips buck involuntarily, trying to find any semblance of the pleasure that was just snatched away from you. the handcuffs rattle against the bedframe, a taunting reminder of your helplessness.

sunghoon then leans in, placing the tip of his cock against your parted lips. the heat of him, the smell of him, sends a thrill through you. your eyes widen, but you don't dare move. his hand reaches behind your head, threading through your damp hair, and he pulls you closer, guiding his length into your mouth. you gag slightly as he pushes deeper, filling your mouth with his hardness.

his grip tightens, the handcuffs biting into your wrists as you struggle to accommodate his size. your eyes water and your jaw aches, but you don't dare pull away. you know he's watching you, watching the way your mouth stretches around his cock, watching the way you fight to take him all in. the taste of him is intoxicating, the salty tang of his precum coating your tongue as he starts to fuck your mouth with slow, deliberate strokes.

his hips rock back and forth, his cock sliding in and out of your lips. you can feel the head hit the back of your throat with each thrust, the sensation making your eyes water even more. your hands are bound and useless, leaving you completely at his mercy. you moan around his shaft, the vibrations sending a new wave of sensation through your already overwhelmed body.

sunghoon groans, his eyes rolling back in his head as he fucks your mouth with increasing urgency. you can feel his cock swelling, the muscles in his thighs tensing. his grip on your hair tightens as he starts to thrust harder, faster, his hips snapping against your face.

he pulls out, his cum spurting across your face and chest. it's hot and sticky, painting your skin in ropes of white. you watch, wide-eyed and panting, as he continues to come, his cock pulsing with each spurt. your tits were coated in sticky white ropes.

sunghoon then sits back, panting heavily, his cock still twitching. his eyes never leave yours as he reaches out, wiping the remaining cum from your face with his thumb, and pushes it into your mouth. "suck it clean, slut."

you obey, your tongue swirling around his digit, tasting the salty bitterness of his release. the humiliation only serving to heighten your arousal.

sunghoon's eyes flare with desire as he watches you clean him up. he reaches down to remove the handcuffs, releasing you from your restraints. your arms fall limply to the side, the skin around your wrists red and slightly bruised. you look up at him, your eyes glazed with need.

his cock is still semi-hard, and he uses the cum that's on his hand to lubricate himself, spreading it down his shaft. sunghoon grabs your ankles and pulls your legs apart, your pussy glistening and begging for his attention. you're trembling with need, your body aching for his touch. he climbs between your legs, his eyes dark with desire.

without another word, he plunges into you, his cock filling you up in one swift motion. you scream, the mix of pain and pleasure making your toes curl. your pussy stretches around his girth, your walls tightening around him like a vice.

sunghoon's eyes never leave yours as he starts to move, his hips pistoning into you. every stroke hits that perfect spot, the one the dildo had been teasing all along. your breath comes in ragged gasps as he fucks you.

his hands are everywhere, grabbing at your hips, your breasts, your throat. his teeth bite into the flesh of your shoulder, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. you arch up to meet him, your nails digging into his back, leaving trails of red against his pale skin.

his strokes are deep and punishing, his cock claiming you in a way that you never knew was possible. you're so wet that you can hear the wet smack of his skin against yours, the sound echoing in your ears like a dirty mantra. your orgasm is a tight coil in your belly, winding tighter and tighter with every thrust.

sunghoon's movements become more erratic, his breaths coming in harsh pants. you can feel his muscles tense, his body poised on the edge of his own release. you're so close, so close…

and then, it happens.

you squirt, your body letting go of the pent-up pleasure that had been building since the moment he first touched you with the dildo.your pussy spasms around his cock, the muscles clenching and releasing as wave after wave of ecstasy rolls over you.

the sensation is so intense that you scream his name, your voice hoarse from the restrained moans and pleas of the past few minutes. sunghoon's eyes widen in surprise and delight, his pace never faltering as he continues to pound into you. the warmth of your release coats his cock, making the sensation of him moving inside you even more exquisite.

his own climax follows shortly after, a growl ripping from his throat as he empties himself into you. the feeling of his hot seed filling you sends another shockwave through your body, making you come again.

sunghoon collapses onto the bed, his weight pressing you into the mattress. your legs are still wrapped around his waist, his cock still buried deep inside you.

you have never been more glad to have left your laptop open before going to shower…

── : @rikkesttz @nics-fxy @woniesbae

[alchemistc]

Based on my own post from earlier this evening because I can't stop thinking about it.

vanilla

He doesn't mean to see it. He swears. It's just - Tommy's laptop is right there and Buck's is all the way in the office and if he doesn't look up the lifespan of a Cecropia moth right now he's going to forget about it for a month only to remember in the middle of something vitally more important than watching Planet Earth reruns.

So he twists the thing around from its spot on the side table, boots it back up, types in Tommy's password (pA$$word3, because no one would ever guess that he'd be both so lazy and so creative in his laziness), and watches Firefox boot itself up. It's an older laptop, and Tommy doesn't take great care of it - case and point, he didn't even close out of his tabs, they're all still there, and - well. Shit.

That's the most ridiculous dildo he's ever seen.

Biggest, too.

Jesus.

Buck immediately forgets 100% of what he was doing.

And - and looking up Tommy's history is absolutely a line crossed - there's no reason for him to fucking spiral just because there's a bright purple dragon something on the screen with a base as wide as Buck's thigh. There's no reason why he should -

He clicks the search history and regrets it pretty immediately.

That kills two hours.

He has three more until Tommy's off shift, and now everything is worse. Because.

Okay so.

Like.

They have a pretty healthy sex life, Buck thinks. A year into Tommy and Buck Part Two and they still can't keep their hands off each other. And - so, like, sue him for preferring all the boring stuff he never really got to enjoy long term - the way he knows Tommy goes a little crazy when they're lying on their sides and Buck can just slip right in and press his lips to Tommy's shoulder, tuck his hand under Tommy's where he's got it on his chest, curl their fingers together and just breath into each thrust. Sue him for liking it when they're face to face and Tommy's looking up at him with the pads of his fingers tracing the shell of Buck's ear and he can see the love love love in his eyes, see the way his tongue curls out Buck's name like a prayer. Sue him for his fantasies always drifting to that sunny afternoon in their bed, Buck on his belly and Tommy everywhere around him, over him, inside of him, humming useless nothings into Buck's ear while the sweat from their skin eased the chafe of being pressed together from pelvis to collarbone.

Buck picks up his phone. Watches the familiar name ring out one, two, three - answered on the fourth ring.

"Am I not kinky enough, do you think?" Buck asks, and gets a drawn out moment of silence.

"Nope," Ravi says, and the call drops.

And who else is he gonna call, really? Hen and Chim? (Hard no, they nipped that in the bud back when Buck and Tommy were still in Part One) Maddie? Another line too far, but this one he doesn't feel like crossing today. Eddie? If he'd even pick up?

Buck dials out again.

Ravi picks up on the second ring. "Buck, I love you man, but I get a front row seat to your little love fest at least once a week, four hours a night. I am not equipped or willing to help you with your sex life."

Fair. That's fair. Boundaries are important. Ravi does an excellent job of setting his up and announcing where they are.

"It's just I found something in Tommy's browser that -."

"Absolutely not. I'll block your number for twenty-four hours."

"Right. Cool. Sure thing." Buck breathes.

"Talk to Tommy, if you're freaking out about it." Ravi caves, just a bit. "Every time. I say this every time, and it always works, doesn't it?"

True. On both accounts. When did Ravi become his go to guy?

(When he started picking up the phone whenever Buck called. When he came to Buck with his own shit and didn't apologize for it.)

"Yeah. You're right. I'm gonna talk to him."

"We're still on for Friday, right?"

Buck has to search his memory to figure out what he's referencing. Tommy's taking Ravi to the farmers market over in Venice Beach that Buck refuses to go to on principle because Sherri's Treats aren't even homemade. She gets the baked goods from Costco and decorates them with store brand icing.

"Talk to Tommy," Buck throws back, just to be a brat, and Ravi sighs.

"Touche."

He's still freaking out when the call ends three minutes later, and he doesn't want to have to pull this trigger.

Except. Like. It's still there. Right on Tommy's screen. Watching him.

The phone rings six times.

He's contemplating how ridiculous it is to leave a voicemail when Lucy answers with a groggy "'lo?"

"Am I not kinky enough?" Buck asks, and gets the start of a cackle and then a long, slow pause.

She's gonna hang up on him. She's absolutely going to -

"It's ten-thirty in the morning on a Wednesday, Buckley."

And it sure is.

God, this would never have happened if he hadn't started an update on his phone mid-episode.

"Walk me through it," she continues, all business, all of a sudden, and so Buck tells her, grateful for her hums and uhuh's as she starts her day. Buck talks over the sound of her brushing her teeth, and pouring her coffee, and absolutely doesn't mention that he thinks she should probably have better sleeping patterns while he spirals about Tommy being unsatisfied with the sex they have.

"Gonna break bro code here a little to tell you you have literally nothing to worry about there. Seriously. You're getting gold stars every night, I promise you."

"He's been looking up gimp suits and gags, Lucy!"

She's quiet on the other end, for a moment.

Then she starts laughing.

Again.

Which is a great feeling for Buck. He loves it when Lucy laughs at him.

"Oh, Jesus, I'm sorry. Honey those aren't for you."

Well, now he's kinda mad at the implication that Tommy would -

"Not for Tommy, either," she interrupts, like she knows where that spiral leads. "I forgot what time of year it was. This is new for you."

"What's new for me?"

He can picture the sly grin on her face as she pours something into a bowl - milk maybe. Then cereal.

God, what a psycho.

"Tommy and an army buddy of his have had this escalating prank war going on for like...seven, eight years? I don't know, I wasn't here at the start of it, but I guess it started as the most heterosexual man you've ever met trying to be a good ally to his newly out buddy and sending a set of butt plugs to the only address of Tommy's he had available."

Weird. But not the weirdest thing he's ever heard. "Which was?"

"Oh, Harbor. Yeah. Got it his first week there. So now every year on the anniversary they try to send each other shit at work that should technically be grounds for a sexual harassment claim from their coworkers. Last year Tommy got a fully custom furry suit. Dude probably dropped thirty grand on that thing."

He shouldn't ask. He definitely shouldn't -

"It was a horse. Because of his big fat -."

"I get the picture, thanks."

"So yeah. It's coming up on time for them to push a boundary a little too far and actually have someone complain about it, this time. They won't stop until one of them gets a write up."

It's kinda funny. Kinda sweet, too, in that really weird way military men are with each other. Irrationally, Buck kinda wants to slew foot the guy for being an unintentionally massive flirt.

Straight dudes are the literal worst at allyship, in the weirdest ways possible.

"He's out of state, so don't go getting territorial, Buckley."

Never gonna live that down.

"But seriously though? Back to the original point. Which is you freaking out that Tommy is unsatisfied in your sex life. Number one: talk to him. You guys are the actual worst. Always gotta have a second opinion before you bite the bullet and do the normal thing. Number two: I know too much. And I know you have nothing to worry about. Number three: when he gets home I want you to record his reaction when you turn the laptop screen on him like a spurned wife and send it to me. I'm having a bad day. I could use the entertainment."

"You just woke up."

"And had to talk an old coworker down from a ledge about how satisfying his sex life is with a current coworker. Bareback, no lube, just wake up and go."

"I think this also counts as sexual harassment."

"You started this conversation with 'am I kinky enough' so I'm not super concerned."

By the time he gets off the phone with Lucy he's very firmly on solid ground. And also wondering exactly how much Tommy actually talks about their sex life when he's not around. Tommy keeps things pretty close to the vest. He can't imagine he's going around bragging about that time he started crying when Buck hit his prostate right as he licked into his mouth and slid a hand up his arm to link their fingers together.

Maybe in less detail.

Something about seeing God, maybe. That seems more like his style.

---

Tommy has a routine, when he gets home from work. Keys hung up, jacket on the coat rack, duffle tucked into one of the cubbies of his makeshift mud room. Shoes under the bench, two minutes of head scritches for Goose as she meows her way down the hall to greet the only man she'll ever love.

(Buck's super cool about the fact that Tommy's breakup cat hates him. Totally chill.)

When Goose has had her fill and darted off to go bounce off the walls of the office, Tommy likes to amble in to whatever room Buck is in and drape himself across Buck's back for a moment, mouth pressed to the knob of Buck's spine, hands roaming for a moment before he manages a greeting.

He's making risotto for dinner when he hears the lock click in the front door.

He's ignoring Lucy's text reminding him to get a reaction shot.

He listens to Tommy talk back to Goose like he understands every "mrow" listens for the shuffle of socked feet down the hall, listens to him pad across the kitchen tiles, braces himself for the dead weight of Tommy against his back.

Tommy's got a hand halfway up his shirt when he mumbles into Buck's ear. "So I hear we have something to talk about."

"Ravi snitched."

"Ravi still thinks I'm the sensible one, of the two of us."

Buck snorts. Tips his head back against Tommy's shoulder and basks in the moment while Tommy buries his nose behind Buck's ear.

"Before I say anything else, I know you said I can use your laptop whenever I want but you should know I definitely snooped where I shouldn't and jumped to some wild conclusions. Which Lucy has already cleared up on your behalf, because apparently we're both too chicken shit to have a conversation without using a lifeline."

Tommy stills. "I didn't close out my browser session last time, did I?"

"You did not."

"And Lucy told you about the horse costume Dom sent me last year."

"She sure did. She very specifically called it a furry suit, though."

Tommy blows out an exasperated breath against his neck. "And you were freaking out because...?"

"I thought maybe you were bored with the sex we have."

That gets Tommy going. He pulls free just to get enough leverage to spin Buck to face him, hands on his hips and eyes catching Buck's like if he doesn't see Buck's eyes in the next five seconds he'll do something crazy, and Buck doesn't really know how he got so lucky but he's not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth. Even if it's a furry.

"Evan. Please understand when I say this I'm not exaggerating. Our sex is life altering. I want to have slow, quiet, vanilla sex with you until the day I die."

"Which won't be for like another fifty years."

Tommy hums. "I'm gonna be popping Blue Chew when I'm ninety-five and have two bum hips."

"Oh, so I have to do all the work?"

"Why do you think I dated younger?"

Buck has to kiss him about it. And then he has to pull back and duck his head to remind Tommy of the part he blazed right past. "Full disclosure, when I said I snooped I meant I went into your search history."

Tommy's chuckle shakes them both. "I figured. You go back far enough to find the single porn link in amidst all the shitty plastic used actuators for sale on eBay?"

"I'm not a masochist, Tommy." Figures he'd get so frustrated looking for a part to fix the rattling in the Jeeps dash he'd want to rub one out. Usually takes him more than a single video, though. Probably he'd decided he'd feel too guilty to actually get off until he had the part ordered.

Tommy shifts his weight a bit. Wedges a knee in between Buck's legs. His eyes get that sparkle to them that means he finds Buck to be an adorable menace. "How married to the risotto are you?" he asks, hands shifting from Buck's hips to behind his thighs.

"Not - not terribly." It had been a distraction from thinking about Tommy's army buddy, mostly. The recipe still isn't perfected and even though Tommy's complimented it every time, Buck can tell it's missing something and Tommy is just letting him figure it out on his own.

"Maybe we could order in and I can show you how satisfied I am with your service."

"We - that's definitely an option. On the table."

"How about this very sturdy counter, instead?"

They haven't done it somewhere not-the-bed in months.

Their knees aren't gonna thank them for it.

Buck has to attempt to ignore Tommy mouthing at his neck to remember if there are enough ice packs in the freezer for the both of them, right now.

"Yeah - yep, let's do that instead."

Tommy gets both hands under his ass and lifts.

He doesn't quite swoon over the move, anymore, but it still makes him more than a little giddy.

"Wait, did you decide on the dildo over the gimp suit, because if you're escalating at the same rate as your friend I think -."

"Can we talk about Dom after I get my satisfaction scores in, please?"

"Shutting up now."

"I don't believe that for a second," Tommy says, and then shuts him up with his mouth anyway, just for good measure.

[itsrlymine]

BABEE GUESS WHATT!! GUESS WHO'S BEEN MANIFESTING HER DREAM LIFE IN LESS THAN A MONTH!! 🤭🤭

So like 2-3 weeks ago I was in a rut. Just to give some info, my parents work in another city but always visit home frequently though I have to live with my toxic grandmother with my cousin's toxic parents and I have a feeling I've been manifesting them being more and more negative to me because I've been witnessing how powerful I was with manifestation and stuff but never held the steering wheel on it. Hate them, but anyways.

3 weeks ago, dad had to go back to the city for work while my mother was working from home. My grandmother is (or was) REALLY REALLY clingy or something so she didn't allow my mother to go back to the city and bring me with her because she didn't want us to leave, AS IF she didn't rot both of our self-esteems with her generational trauma. But I was like "okay, no, no no no. We are going to the city. We will have the best redemption summer. The best glowup.. Who said we weren't?" And not even 4 days later, me and my mother both left and now I get to live my summer 🎉🎉🎉

A few days later, I wanted to get into meditation and use that to create my dream self and my dream life. I ASSUMED THAT I HAD LOW ATTENTION SPAN, until I was like "wait what? What do you meannn, meditating is so easy, like it's actually so dumb to think it isn't because it's just.. What?? Don't I meditate all the time??" (And honestly it's not even an assumption, all of us meditate when we are zoning out, daydreaming, or even when we are trying to go to sleep.) Sooo I've been rampaging, using SATs, and using the law of assumption while meditating. This has reduced my phone addiction so I've been making time for lots of things. I've applied to a baking class, and a pilates class. And I've been changing my physical appearance.. No, I'm not talking dresses or something. I'm talking about: hair growth. An hourglass figure. My nose has been getting smaller. Ofc, I've been manifesting while meditating and even to my sleep, this is very very possible.

I HEALED MY SCOLIOSIS!! "Scoliosis can't be cured" say that to my face. Yes you can.

Long story short, I can meditate for 2 hours, have been reaching out to others with meditation, and then eventually other things like personal hobbies, have been educating myself with things I want to learn and have also been earning a little bit of money on pinterest, and since I've been reaching out to people with my same interests,I've been socializing all the time and.. Yk what? I'm going to a rich party next week. A YACHT PARTY. ✨✨

A YACHT PARTY.

I SAW THE GUEST LIST AND.. I see a cute and handsome guy. That has rich parents. Updating when he's my boyfriend.

YESS YES YESSSSSSSS OMG BABE WTF I LOVE THIS. all these successes are so freakin amazing girl yes whattttt. all it takes is trust yourself and everything else falls in place. I love this so much for you and I'm looking forward to more stories you have to tell!!! congrats babe.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Let them see [B. R.]

Bob Reynolds x fem!reader

wc: 3.3k

summary: you and Bob are forced to attend an event hosted by Valentina, where more is revealed than you would have liked.

masterlist

warnings: established relationship (kinda) mentions of comic characters like Norman Osborn (Green Goblin), Wilson Fisk (Kingpin) and Danny Rand (Iron Fist), some kissing and I think that's it!

Now that you were The heroes who would protect the earth and Valentina held a high position in the government, it was a prerequisite for the team to appear in public. You all knew it was like a huge, manipulative, and fake publicity campaign, but if it saved your ass, you didn't really care much.

Strangely, you had the most experience speaking to the press and with political figures, from whom Miss de Fontaine wanted to profit. So it wasn't a surprise when she said she wanted all of you at a charity dinner, where, at the same time, she would try to convince various businessmen to finance some of your projects.

You had to cover as much ground as possible, so she would arrange for you to be seated at different tables and, in addition, assign you a partner for that. She didn't ask your opinion, she never did, and you knew where you'd be until she handed you a small map with your assigned seats.

"I had to sit down with the owner of Oscorp Industries."

"Wilson Grant Fisk. Sounds important, doesn't it?"

Your friends were arguing and bragging about who they'd been assigned to sit with at dinner. You glanced at the names on your map, realizing none of them really interested you. Only one was familiar.

"Hey, Bob, we'll sit together."

The boy checked his own piece of paper, frowning to read it, and smiled widely when he checked what you said. You two had been trying to be a thing for a few months, though no one knew it yet. While they suspected it, you had been careful enough to make sure there weren't any incidents. So the coincidence made both of you happy.

"Huh, that's right. Valentina told me to tell you that you can't change your partners because every fire has its extinguisher, whatever that means."

“What are you talking about?”

"Every couple has one person who could break political relations if they don't keep their mouth shut, and another who turns out to be more cautious or diplomatic."

"No surprise my partner is Ava," Walker murmured, suddenly "No offense."

"No, it's okay. I'm used to hearing your bullshit, I'll probably know how to help you avoid it."

While they argued, you tried to guess the other combinations. Bucky and Yelena went together, obviously. They were like the team leaders, after all. Only Alexei remained, whom Valentina had probably paired with herself to prevent any mishaps.

"So you're the fire or the extinguisher?"

"Oh, I don't think that applies to us," you laughed, looking softly at Bob. "I think he just put us together so you don't have to interact too much. You know, the shyest one on the team whom I could talk myself into."

Your partner—would boyfriend be the correct term? No, perhaps lover, in any case—and you shared an amused expression, more pleased than the others with the arrangement your boss had made.

Bucky announced that Valentina would send some stylists who would take care of getting you suitable clothes, makeup, and a good hairdo—yes, the event was that important—and then the matter was settled.

At night, you could see that they had done a good job. Yelena was radiant, Ava looked like a supermodel, and the men didn't look ugly at all. Although, of course, for you, the most pretty was Bob. He was wearing a brown suit, with a nice striped tie, and shoes that gleamed in the light. His hair had been trimmed and was slicked back, but it didn't look stiff, just sleek; a wavy lock fell over his forehead, as if it had been intentional.

"I want all of you to rave about this project," Valentina warned you before walking through the door into the living room. "Make friends, chat with businessmen, tell them jokes, just be yourselves! Okay, a little more charming and less psycho, okay? Have fun!"

The entire group looked like a school classroom that had been forced to go on a field trip, but most of them managed to hide it. As you were entering and the camera spotlights began to flash, you took advantage of the chaos to approach Bob and grab his arm.

"You look handsome," you whispered to him. With your heels, it was easier to reach his ear.

"I feel weird. I was never a big fan of formal wear."

"Well, I say it looks great on you, darling."

A shy smile spread across his face, and although you couldn't see it, your eyes radiated tenderness and love; as if you were bewitched by him. Once you found your table, you took your place and were disappointed to see that you were at opposite ends of the circular table. You would have liked to sit next to him, but the seats were already labeled with each name.

You didn't know how the rest of your friends were doing, but apparently at yours, all the businessmen seemed pleased. It was probably because you were pretty—and wore a tight dress—or because their wives were smitten with Bob, pestering him with questions like seagulls around bread crumbs.

At one point in the evening, billionaire Danny Rand demanded your full attention. He wanted to talk to you about other charitable efforts his company was involved in that The New Avengers could join. He didn't seem as flirtatious or pushy as the regular millionaires, but you knew that if he tried to cross a line, you'd have to hold yourself back to avoid dislocating his shoulder or breaking his wrist.

"You know, now that I'm CEO of Rand Enterprises, I want us to be a more… how should I put it? Humanitarian, maybe. I want to help people, just like you."

"You're quite the philanthropist, I see."

"I'm trying to use my family's fortune to do more than build glass towers. Many people don't have a voice. I want Rand Enterprises to amplify it, not drown it out."

"And you repeat that idealistic speech at every gala?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Danny laughed softly, not offended.

"You know," Danny said, turning the glass between his fingers, "all this… the galas, the donations, the campaigns… it's all good. But if people don't reconnect with themselves, it's all a band-aid. You can't heal a broken system if you don't first heal those within it."

You crossed your arms, listening to him with a barely raised eyebrow. He spoke calmly, without a trace of ego. There was something genuine in his voice, though it wasn't exactly the kind of speech you expected to hear from someone with such an obscene bank account.

"Are you telling me that what the world needs is... meditation?"

"I'm saying we need silence. Inner silence. That people are afraid to be alone with themselves because they don't like what they're going to find. And if they don't confront that, no social change will be sustainable."

"Deep," you murmured, taking a short sip from your glass. "Maybe even a little depressing."

"Not if you think of it as an opportunity. The internal work is the most difficult, but also the most necessary. If every entrepreneur in this room took half the time they spend planning tax evasion and took an honest look at themselves, the world would be different."

"You have surprising faith in these people's capacity for introspection," you replied, amused.

Danny smiled at you. Not like someone trying to win you over, but like someone who truly believed what he was saying.

And then you felt it. That look. Subtle but piercing. You barely turned your face and saw him. He didn't do anything, he didn't say anything, but his expression was enough to understand. It wasn't explosive jealousy, but that kind of sad insecurity, as if he were afraid he wasn't in the same league as a man like Daniel Rand.

Without missing a beat or a smile, you looked him in the eye and winked graciously. A quick, playful gesture, like a secret password: I'm in control. This is all for the cause.

Bob looked away, but the tense line around his mouth softened. You tried to ignore the fact that his cheeks had turned red.

"Did I lose your attention for a second?" Danny asked calmly, following your gaze, though without reproach in his tone.

"Just for a moment," you replied with a light smile, settling in naturally. "But don't worry, I'm still listening."

Danny held your gaze for a moment longer... and then followed. His attention slid naturally to the other side of the table, right where Bob Reynolds was pretending to pay attention to an elderly woman chatting. He didn't seem to be looking at you at the moment, but his body betrayed him: his chin tense, his back slightly rigid, his thumb pressing restlessly against the glass of his drink.

"He's part of your team, right?" Danny asked, without malice. It was a simple question, but loaded with insight.

"Yes. It's... complicated," you replied, staying on neutral ground.

Danny nodded slowly, with that calm that always surrounded him.

"He has the look of someone holding something very heavy," she commented, without looking away. "As if he were standing in the middle of a chaos he doesn't know how to calm."

"Your reading is not bad," you murmured, somewhat surprised by the clarity of his perception.

"I don't judge," Danny added, finally looking back at you. "Some have to survive here, amidst the noise of the world”

There was a moment of comfortable silence between the two of you. He didn't press. He didn't probe. He just offered you a sincere, almost compassionate, unpretentious look.

"Sometimes," he added gently, "the true act of spirituality isn't meditating or helping others. Sometimes it's knowing when not to take someone else's place."

You looked at him, this time without pretense. Because in that moment, you understood that Danny wasn't trying to steal attention or gain your sympathy. He was speaking honestly. And he'd also seen more than you expected.

"You are much more perceptive than you seem."

He smiled barely.

"I try"

You remained silent for a few seconds, observing Bob more closely. His shoulders were still somewhat tense, but now he was pretending to be engrossed in a conversation with a woman who was talking more than he seemed to want to listen.

"He doesn't like these places," you commented, your voice barely above a whisper. "He's not exactly a fan of galas. He barely tolerates protocol, and the idea of having to smile for strangers seems like torture. He's… shy. It's hard for him. Much more than people imagine."

Danny nodded gently, without a hint of mockery. Only understanding.

"But he's here," he said. "For you, isn't he?"

"For the team, actually."

"He seems like a nice guy," Danny added honestly. "If you want, I can go talk to him for a while. That way he won't feel so out of place... and I'd have the perfect excuse to stop talking to businessmen who only want photo ops and tax breaks."

You let out a short, grateful laugh as you looked back at Bob. This time, you gave him a clear signal, a gesture with your fingers that said, "Come here."

Bob seemed to hesitate. Not because he didn't want to, but because he seemed unsure about interrupting. But you held his gaze pointedly, and that was enough. He apologized to whoever he was talking to, then walked toward you with a measured stride, as if trying not to inconvenience you.

When he reached your side, you smiled.

"Daniel, meet Robert Reynolds," you said naturally. "He's a fundamental part of our team."

Danny calmly extended his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Robert. I've heard good things."

Bob nodded as he shook hands, a little tense, but polite.

"Nice to meet you"

"How about you two chat for a while? I can sit where you were before and deal with the ladies for you."

Bob tried to stifle a laugh, but he couldn't. He was amused to think that his annoyance had been so obvious.

"Alright"

You took advantage of the moment to lean toward Bob and place a soft kiss on his cheek, taking him by surprise. Nothing exaggerated. Nothing over the top—just a brief, deliberate show of affection. Enough to calm him… and claim him.

"Be nice to him, Mr. Rand. Besides being a key part of the team, I'd say he's also the most handsome male member"

Both men laughed at your joke and then Bob sat down, a little calmer than before.

The gala continued with the calculated elegance of any event funded by millionaires with a socially responsible attitude. The glasses kept refilling, the music became a constant background, and you did what you did best: reading the room, smiling intelligently, leading conversations without seeming to. Bob, after his conversation with Danny, seemed more relaxed. Not extroverted, of course. But at least he wasn't on the verge of collapse anymore.

A couple of hours passed. You exchanged greetings with politicians, activists, and heirs. Until then, amidst the hustle and bustle, you felt a familiar presence at your side. Bob.

"Do you have a moment?"

You nodded at his request and then excused yourself to the guests. Bob took your hand in a gesture so casual it almost seemed unconscious, but there was a restrained urgency in his movements. He gently led you to a secluded corner of the room, a refuge between columns and shadows where the noise and curious glances couldn't reach you.

He stopped and looked at you, his deep, dark eyes filled with a mixture of nervousness and a determination that made your pulse race.

"Are you okay? Did something happen?" you asked, trying to soften the moment, searching for a connection that went beyond words.

Bob inhaled deeply, his chest rising and falling slowly.

"I'm fine," he replied sincerely. "But I needed a break… a moment away from all of this. Being with you helps me catch my breath."

You smiled, almost without thinking, and reached out to gently straighten his tie. Your fingers brushed the skin of his neck and you felt that invisible electricity that connected you, like a silent magnet that couldn't be avoided.

"Sometimes everything is so overwhelming, right?"

"I've wanted to leave since we got here," he confessed, making you smile.

One of his hands went to your waist, holding you gently and moving his thumb up and down, as if with that he could calm your anxiety.

"Hold on a little longer, just a little bit."

"And you? Are you okay?"

"Wonderful"

"I haven't told you that you look beautiful, have I?"

"I don't think so."

"Well, you look gorgeous."

At his compliment you smiled softly, and caught his gaze slipping to your lips. You knew what he wanted. Or what would make him feel better, anyway.

"Do you think they'll notice we've been gone for a few minutes?" you asked, tilting your head. Bob smiled back, the sweet, mischievous glint in his eyes only deepening what you already felt for him.

"Maybe," he said in a low voice, "but what does it matter?"

Without further warning, Bob brought his face closer to yours with restrained patience, as if he wanted to record every second before giving in. His other hand rested firmly on your cheek, while his lips sought yours with an intensity that took your breath away.

The kiss started slow and uncertain, but within seconds, passion erupted. His lips pressed against yours with a mixture of desire and tenderness that left you speechless. The hand that had previously been on your waist slid purposefully down your back, pulling you closer, melting into that small space that was now yours.

The world disappeared. Nothing mattered more than that burning touch, that electric brush that made you feel alive and yearned for. At some point, he lowered his hand to your thigh, and you lifted your leg, letting him caress your skin.

You continued for a while, and when you finally broke apart, Bob leaned his forehead against yours, breathing heavily, a satisfied smile curling his lips.

"I guess you feel more relaxed now, huh?"

"Definitely," he exclaimed.

His hand gently released your leg until it was back in place, and then you both took a step back. You tried to smooth your dress, and Bob tried to fix his suit, hoping to look as natural as possible. A giggle escaped you when you noticed Bob had traces of your lipstick on, which you tried your best to remove.

To avoid suspicion, you left first, and a few minutes later he did. Just in case.

That was the calm. And then—the storm.

The next morning, well into the day, you woke up intending to find something for breakfast. The sight of all your friends gathered at the bar made you frown, thinking the worst. Most of them looked shocked. Bob, on the other hand, was completely pale.

"Good morning, young lady."

"Is something wrong?"

"Haven't you seen your phone?"

Everyone was focused on you while you tried to remember where you'd left off. You were barely awake yet, and you already had to deal with them.

"It's dead. I couldn't find my charger last night," you explained simply.

Yelena, still in her pajamas, reached out to give you hers. On the screen, there was a conversation, apparently from your group chat.

Mel: Valentina wants to know what this means.

Accompanying the message was a link to a compilation of headlines and photos from various digital media outlets. They all featured the same images: Bob and you arriving at the gala together, walking arm in arm with the ease of a long-established couple. But not only that: someone had captured on camera the fleeting, secret moment when you were secretly kissing in a corner, the intimacy of the moment glimmering in the shadows. The most scandalous outlets had added the obscene moment when you had your leg raised against his side.

"Fuck…"

"At least now we'll talk about the gala, right? That's what Valentina wanted."

"I think that you were more like firewood and fire than an extinguisher and fire."

"Yelena, will you shut the fuck up?"

"What? I'm just saying. Some articles say you look like you were about to take off your clothes…"

Overcome by anger, the embarrassment of the moment, you reached out to push your friend off the stool she was sitting on. There were two problems: you didn't measure your strength, and when she fell, Yelena made sure to grab your arm to pull you with her.

Bob was the first to spring up, approaching you to help you up, worried that either of you had hurt yourselves. You expected her to lunge at you and start hitting you, but that didn't happen. Instead, the loudest laughter you'd ever heard burst from her throat.

"Why did you do that?!"

"Lena, I'm so sorry…"

"You threw me out! What's my fault if you two decided to make out last night?"

"Shut up, for God's sake…"

While Bob tried to lift her, you reached out to cover her mouth, completely in vain. He gave up helping you when he saw you struggling, more out of pride than because you were actually upset.

"Who would have thought it, Bob? You've tamed the beast."

"Shut your mouth, Walker, you're next!"

Walker joined in the chorus of laughter. Soon, everyone else followed suit.

You thought that now that your affair was a matter of public interest, at least you wouldn't have to think about how to tell your friends. Valentina could go to hell.

In a strange, yet pleasant way, the revelation of the secret felt like a weight had been lifted from your chest. When you looked at him, smiling shyly, you suspected it was a shared feeling.

[mullermilkshake]

An unreadable measure

Part 10 <- Part 11 -> Part 12

You and Jinwoo try and get the twins ranked, courtesy of the hunter's association.

Yandere!Jinwoo Sung x Fem Hunter!reader Tags - Pregnant reader, talks about pregnancy, mentions of medical tests/ needles, pet name, hormonal reader,

<<< For more Dark/Yandere content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

<<< Or back to this fic's Master list. >>>

You never agreed to meet Jinwoo’s mom and sister until your twelve week scan. Anxiety no doubt.

Jinwoo’s system quest clocked over at thirty out of one hundred. 

Still early into your pregnancy, the twins were growing at the same rate as Hae-in’s pregnancy. Despite a month and a half apart, according to the doctor, Jinwoo was sure she shouldn’t have mentioned that. Odd. You didn’t speak on it though, despite her baiting it like it was some sort of competition. You never bit.

That day, after the scan, you were scheduled to test the mama of the babies in a ditch effort to get some sort of a reading instead of guessing.

Chairman Go’s idea of course.

“This is stupid… how is this even going to work?” Your hand absentmindedly rubbed your visible baby bump, your other lazily pressed to your back.

A short, little man dressed in a smart suit adjusted his glasses and wrote notes on his clipboard. “Well, based on the aura your pregnancy is producing, the Chairman is curious to see if you can produce a score other than your own unreadable measurement. It will give us an idea of what kind of rank your children will be once they are born.”

You huffed and flicked your hair out of your face. “That’s if it actually works, what if it just reads my own score?”

“Block off your aura and only make contact with the sensor using your stomach.”

“How the hell do I do that- oh my god!” Jinwoo lifted you onto his shoulder, high enough so that you didn’t need to reach the meter.

He smiled and ignored the cursing under your breath. You were as light as a feather, and each time Jinwoo levelled up again, he would need to lift you with caution as to not overdo how easy it was.

The man stood back and watched the screen closely, he fiddled with some dial knobs. “Okay, we’re ready. Go ahead and touch it- only with your stomach, nothing else.”

Jinwoo edged towards the meter, holding his breath with each inch. He’d taken note of the babies mana as they were growing even if you couldn’t, and it was only getting more intense with each passing week.

Right now, Jinwoo could sense that if the twins were born with their current mana intact, they were easily upper B-Ranks right now, Maybe even A-Ranks, but that was only a guess.

“We’re going to start the test now, so please hold still.”

You sat upon his shoulder with ease, remaining as still as you could with comfort. Jinwoo stopped as soon as he felt the resistance of your little bump on the meter.

And then it turned on.

The machine hummed and made whatever noises were expected for Jinwoo’s third time standing in that room, and something shifted.

“What? T-That can’t be right…” That man fiddled and spammed the controls. “It’s- it’s unreadable!”

You didn’t react the way Jinwoo expected, more of a slouch if anything. “It’s probably just my mana level you’re reading.”

“N-no… the meter's detecting four separate energy sources…”

“If there’s four, just ignore the two S-Ranks.” It was that simple, Jinwoo didn’t understand his hysterics.

“That’s the thing, Mr Sung… all readings are S-Ranks. I-I can’t tell them apart- it’s making the system overheat, they’re all unreadable!”

“Oh shit.” It was meant to be under your breath, but it wasn’t.

The systems alarm whistled and beeped, airing a warning in the room. Jinwoo set you down and pulled you over to the side getting in between you and the mana meter.

“Turn it off.” He said, commanding the room to the effect of making the man panic further, flicking all kinds of switches. “I said, turn it off.”

“I’m trying!”

The alarms groaned, making the meter tremble and shudder in an invisible icy breeze, emitting smoke from the top of it.

“We have to get out of here.” You left his side and stormed off towards the door that didn’t open. “Why won’t this open?”

“It’s in a system shut down- the whole system’s fried! The room shuts itself off if there’s a fault, it’s to stop further damage to headquarters if the fault causes a fire hazard, it won’t open until the system either cools down or erupts completely!”

“Iron.” Jinwoo called upon his shadow.

He chose Iron due to his raw, tanked strength but also to your own familiarity having met only Igris thus far. He, appeared in his brute fisted glory and hunched over watching you instead of Jinwoo. 

"Who is- What is he doing?" You asked, neither backing away or getting closer.

Jesus… he’s always so distracted. 

Jinwoo pinched the bridge of his nose. “ He's insufferable... Iron. Go and disconnect it before it blows up.”

The shadow nodded and trudged over to the thickened power cable, pulling at it and ripping it out of the wall. 

But the meter didn’t let up.

“It’s still going, it’s going to rupture!” The man ducked and cowered behind the console.

Jinwoo got a hold of you. “I can shadow exchange, keep ahold of me-“

He wasn’t in the room anymore, a split second and the room had disappeared, so did you. The experience was weightless, without any effort and kept him in suspended animation. You had pulled Jinwoo into Royal’s Gatekeeper, floating inside a mana made portal flat against the wall with a viewing hole back through to the room. Iron trudged about the place and covered his face when the meter blew up, casting bits of hard metal and singed plastic everywhere. By some miracle the man by the console survived and Iron morphed back to Jinwoo.

“We should be safe now.” You said, sitting in a position that you almost floated, weightlessly watching.

So beautiful.

He would have told you that too if your nose hadn’t started bleeding right in front of Jinwoo’s eyes. He called out to you, but you’d already stepped back out in to the destroyed and charred plastic covered room. The entire window had blown out, emitting a high pitched winded whistle zipping past on the high floor. The scattered papers from the clipboard were ripped and torn and singed on the edges. 

He said your name again, yet you spoke first. “We didn’t have time to think, so I just acted off of instinct… what is it?”

“Your nose, what’s wrong? Are you feeling alright- are the babies doing something? You used your ability, has it drained your mana?”

You batted him off and wiped your nose, your eyes widening in shock at the red across your hand. “What is… what’s happening?”

“It appears that your babies are using your mana to grow, hence their S-Rank status at three months gestation.”

Jinwoo looked up just as startled as you were. “Chairman Go.”

“I see you’ve destroyed my meter, that was quite a show.”

“It was an accident, Chairman. I think the equipment read it wrong.” You tried to even the playing field, taking accountability.

The Chairman entered the room with his hands hidden behind him, Jinwoo naturally flocked to you, pulling out a tissue to wipe the red from your nose and got in front of you. 

He and the Chairman both mirrored each other, unknowingly sizing the other up in a way that animals did, being in favour of the one who was strongest.

And that was exclusively Jinwoo.

He could obliterate the Chairman quite easily if he wanted to, and he wanted to for not-so-clear reasons. Even so, he also wanted to see how this played out, finding hidden secrets and things in plain sight. There was something bigger at play here, Jinwoo could tell from the jittering in his bones.

“Please, stand down, Hunter Sung. Although the meter will be down for a week or two, I’m thoroughly pleased with the result.” He smiled sweetly, clasping his hands together as though to say, this is just perfect for me.  

“What does that mean exactly?” You asked, emerging from Jinwoo’s guard. “The twins are using my mana- they’re draining me. Is that why I can't sense them? How do you know all this, anyway?”

So you picked up on that too? Jinwoo knew this was all too well thought out, he just never asked the questions until he had something more concrete to go on. You jumped ahead of him once again, a reason for why he was in love with you. Your somewhat dominant side.

“We’ve only seen this once before in Japan. It was the same case there for the mother, and apparently they can use the mother's mana. It disguises their own mana as they'll use the more accessible mana to their disposal. That being said we only have observations to go on, we’re all still pretty much in the dark. it's purely anecdotal... But I think they’ll be some people who’d like to meet you both, but for now, I think further tests are essential.”

You scoffed. “What sort of tests? You’re not prodding me or these babies with needles.”

“No needles, I assure you. Some mana tests and other observations once they’re here. That’s all.”

Tests and examinations needed for Jinwoo’s children? Poking and prodding them while they’re so tiny and vulnerable just to see the rare genetics passed down from their mother? Not to mention anything they could inherit from Jinwoo.

Like hell would anyone treat them like guinea pigs.

“Not a chance.”

“Jinwoo?”

He maintained eye contact with the Chairman, not you. “I said no. No testing those babies, they’re babies . Leave them alone and observe them from afar.”

“Jinwoo-“

“We can discuss this at a later date, for now, go and get some rest.” The Chairman addressed you directly. “You look exhausted. A mother-to-be needs plenty of rest.”

You didn’t respond, not at first, anyway. Not until the Chairman left. “What the hell did he say? I look tired- what does that even mean?”

“W-well-“

“He means nothing by it.” Jinwoo eyed the man from behind the console, emerging back into the room.

“What? What does he mean, Jinwoo?”

Jinwoo knew better than to offend someone who was exhausted and pregnant. This man however, was too honest. A fucking idiot.

“The Chairman meant that you look…” His voice trailed off, stepping back from Jinwoo’s narrowed eyes.

“He meant… nothing by it.” 

“O-Of course! I meant nothing by it- she- you look healthy and glowing!”

“Good man.” 

You sighed heavily, rubbing your stomach before cursing something under your breath. Then, you walked right out of the room in a stomp, leaving the weak little man in Jinwoo’s company.

And that compulsion came back.

Jinwoo grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and clenched his fist tight around the material. “Think before you speak. If you speak out of turn and upset her again, you’re going to wish you died in that explosion.”

“Y-Yes, Mr Sung- I won’t say anything at all, I promise!”

Jinwoo dropped him on the floor and left the room to follow you, skipping a step of the stairs up towards the apartment. Igris was nearby, hovering around up there as near to you as your aura would allow. By the time Jinwoo arrived, he noted how your energy still hadn’t changed, he could sense it from the front door all the way to the en-suite bathroom.

You were really emotional.

Jinwoo called your name softly, hoping it might change your mindset or do literally anything else besides upset you further.

It didn’t. Well, you didn’t respond.

He called out to you again and waited, edging closer to the bathroom until the sound of your stifled sobbing permeated the bathroom door through the crack.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” The pet name slipped out.

You didn’t react to it. “I’m exhausted!”

Little black streaks dribbled down your cheeks from the waterlogged mascara, eyes swollen and puffy, nose all pink and adorably blushed. Jinwoo rubbed the marks away from your cheeks the best he could, moving the slick strands of hair from your damp face.

“You could have fooled me.” He said. “I happen to think you look beautiful.”

“No. You’re just saying that. I look horrible and bloated and I’m a big mess!” The flood gates opened and you couldn’t stop crying.

Jinwoo wanted to say something had the babies aura not spiked, it stopped him in his steps. Like they were reacting to you, but it could have been an array of reasons, maybe they were moving about or kicking and you couldn't feel it? Despite that, he monitored it with each passing moment, but never said anything to you.

I guess I’ll be dealing with this a lot for the next seven months. 

“You don’t look bloated, or horrible. But I think it has been a long day, and I think we should leave seeing my mom and go lay down. I can get you whatever you want, or everything for you,” Jinwoo took it a step further and ran his hand over your baby bump. “And whatever these two need, you’re going to have cravings soon, right?”

“I am…” It didn’t stop you crying, but took your mind off things. “I’m getting cravings already- I just wasn’t sure what-“

“Shh, shh…” You let him embrace you, stroke your hair lovingly to soothe you. “We can trial it. See what you like and don’t like, then I’ll buy one hundred of it, okay?”

“Okay…” Sniffling into his shirt, you clung to it. “Okay… that sounds good.”

Just like that, you were starting to rely on him. Jinwoo wanted to give you the entire world, to you and the babies.

All he wanted from you was that love in return, eventually. The rest of the world could leave for the day, including the chairman and whatever intentions he had.

Jinwoo could sort it later. You and his babies were the top priority.

Part 10 <- Part 11 -> Part 12

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DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime or manhwa. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[biteyoubiteme]

You dont get how excited i was seeing that you posted this fic ive read it like three times and i realized i never reblogged it im sorry ;--;; but i LOVE this fic okay i love it sm you have no idea The engine roars in your ears as you bolt across the finish line, your car skidding and screeching to a halt. The cheers and claps of the crowd rise to an almost deafening crescendo, and you grip the steering wheel tight with furrowed brows, being able to feel how sweaty your forehead had become, adrenaline still surging through your veins as you pant heavily. A quick glance at the leaderboard tells you the result: Second. Fucking. Place. Like just from the start im so hooked- 

“Hardwork, my ass. His daddy got him connections and sponsorships, that’s why. He thinks he can just waltz in with that stupid smile and—oh my god, he’s winking at me. I’m going to fucking kill him.” Sure enough, Beomgyu catches your eye roll and winks your way before saying something to the reporters that makes them hysterically laugh. When i tell you i giggle and love love love love love rivals to lovers so much like the cockieness that can only be reached with rivals just heals something in me and this did just that i love it uuuuuggghhh

Taehyun shrugs, “He grows on you. I guess.” “Yeah, like a nasty mould.” im giggling and kicking my feet over this i love them ><

There is one thing you’ve never told anyone about. Not your teammates, not taehyun, and that is when you, of all people, made out with Choi Beomgyu one awfully unlucky night. Jumping around my room rn you cant see it but believe it- 

What you do remember though was looking at him, really looking at him, in the shifting, almost epileptic lights of the club. How big and brown his eyes were, how long and thick his eyelashes were and how they fluttered like a doll every time he blinked. How plump and pouty his lips were, especially now that he was drunk, he just kept on pouting his lips and his cheeks were flushed all rosy from all the alcohol he’d had. His long wolfcut was messy by now, bangs falling into his eyes. I LOVE HOW YOU WRITE ABOUT HOW PRETTY BEOMGYU IS 

The final lap is chaos, the audience on their feet now. You’re so incredibly angry, but you can’t let that get to you and hinder your focus, you clench your teeth, gripping your steering wheel so tight your knuckles are white, you’re even more determined to win than before. Okay but im on the edge of my seat over this race like its irl and i dont know whats going to happen like i love it sm

"You fucking cheated!" You shout, jabbing a finger at his chest. He blinks innocently, tilting his head in a puppy like way. "Me? Cheat? That’s a very serious accusation to make. I’d never." There’s a slight smugness to him, almost mocking, he’s not even pissed he didn’t win like you’d wanted him to be, just calm and collected and being a bitch. It makes you even more livid with him. THE RIVALS ARE BEING RIVALS AND I LOVE IT ITS MAKING MY BITE MY FIST AND KICK MY FEET BEHIND ME LIKE IM SO SAT AND OBSESSED WITH THEM- 

Something inside you just snaps. It infuriates you how you’re the one who won and yet, you feel small. Why is he the one sneering at you? That should be you! You want to have the upper hand over him, some semblance of control— just like that night again when he was putty in your hands. And so, before you can even register what you yourself are about to do, you grab him by his jacket, smashing your lips against his. He melts almost instantly, kissing you back so fervently and eagerly, as if he’d been waiting this whole time for this to happen. And you can’t lie, it felt almost euphoric to have his soft lips back on yours again. Almost like an addict getting their fix after a long withdrawal. EEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKK ><

but there’s a look of almost, somewhat hurt on his face. APOLOGIZE TO HIM AND ME FOR THIS ENDING EVIL!!! (i love this fic sm) 

☆ Drive you mad !

genre: racer au, smut, e2l, rivals , crack

Pairings: sub ! race car driver ! beomgyu x dom ! gn race car driver reader (afab when comes to smut)

Warnings: kinda public sex, bratty beomgyu, sub beomgyu, grinding/palming, edging, creampie, riding, hand job, degrading, sex in a car, clubbing, alcohol, hair pulling, tit sucking, use of names ‘good boy’, ‘whore’

Word count: 4.7k

The engine roars in your ears as you bolt across the finish line, your car skidding and screeching to a halt. The cheers and claps of the crowd rise to an almost deafening crescendo, and you grip the steering wheel tight with furrowed brows, being able to feel how sweaty your forehead had become, adrenaline still surging through your veins as you pant heavily. A quick glance at the leaderboard tells you the result:

Second. Fucking. Place.

You grit your teeth, rather aggressively slamming the door shut, and getting out of the car. Yanking off your helmet, you storm over to where Kang Taehyun, your ever-calm, teammate, was leaning casually against the pit wall, sipping on his water bottle from the last round he had just raced himself. You on the other hand, are seconds away from combusting.

“Fuck him.” You seethe and grumble, arms crossed as both of your gazes switch to focus on Choi Beomgyu in the centre, soaking up the spotlight a few metres away, gesturing animatedly for the cameras with sparkling eyes, a stupid smirk and very satisifed look on his face as he tucked his helmet under one arm. He’s surrounded and swarmed by reporters with god knows how many microphones shoved in his face who hang onto his every single word like he was some goddamn deity.

He basks in it, always loved the attention. You wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to win every race solely for the purpose of being met with cameras and praises at the end. It’s like he got off on that shit. Attention seeker.

“What a fucking nepo baby.” You scoff and taehyun laughs, always amused for your hate towards Choi Beomgyu. But it was true, he was only here because his father was a famous legendary racer back in the day, his racing career practically gift wrapped by him at a young age. Choi Beomgyu had everything handed to him on a silver platter whilst you had to claw your way through to get where you are now. But, it seems to be that you’re the only one who has a problem with him. Everyone else adores him, the 'golden boy'.

“Oh—hehe. Stop it. Thank you! Yeah, honestly it’s all about hard work.” You hear him gush and chuckle in faux shyness and humbleness, waving his hand dismissively, eyes shaped into little crescent moons and running a hand through his long soft brown hair. “But I don’t think I’m that good personally heh.”

You can’t help how hard your eyes roll at that, muttering more insults under your breath only taehyun can hear who's certainly more than entertained. “Hardwork, my ass. His daddy got him connections and sponsorships, that’s why. He thinks he can just waltz in with that stupid smile and—oh my god, he’s winking at me. I’m going to fucking kill him.”

Sure enough, Beomgyu catches your eye roll and winks your way before saying something to the reporters that makes them hysterically laugh. The audacity. You have half the mind of walking over there and strangling him right in front of the cameras. That surely wouldn’t end your career right? Or worse yet, put you in prison.

As the crowd around him finally disperses and fizzles out, Beomgyu confidently saunters over to you and taehyun, helmet still tucked under his arm and still grinning annoyingly.

“Oh no.” Taehyun chuckles, throwing a knowing look your way and nodding to the direction of beomgyu, “Incoming.”

“Fuck my life.” You mutter, taking a big breath in, bracing yourself for the worst.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my favourite fan.” Beomgyu’s grin widens as he reaches you, snickering. He ignores your scoff in return, turning to taehyun instead with a smile and clapping his back. “Hey, Tae. Drinks after this? A bunch of us are going.”

“Yeah, I’m in. Congrats on first place today by the way.” Taehyun replies giving him a bro hug. To this day, you still can’t understand how taehyun can stand him. But Beomgyu has a lot of friends, and like you said, you really are the only one who dislikes him.

“How can you even hang out with him?” You make the most disgusted face you can muster towards Beomgyu to show the pure utter hatred you feel to him.

Beomgyu practically puffs out his chest, already expecting to be backed up and stood up against by taehyun.

Taehyun shrugs, “He grows on you. I guess.”

“Yeah, like a nasty mould.”

Beomgyu deflates, taking great offence, mouth hanging open and frowning, pouting at the both of you now laughing and high-fiving each other.

Beomgyu’s intense gaze then returns back to you. Taehyun, addressing the situation, and knowing how both your bantering can escalate, sees it’s best to leave, walking away to leave you alone with the cockroach. “Right, so as entertaining as this has been, I’m going to go now…preferably anywhere else...”

“What about you, y/n? No congratulations?” Beomgyu mocks and sighs boastfully once Taehyun has left. His voice dripping with that sickeningly playful lilt that always makes your blood boil. “No heartfelt speech on how I inspire you to be better? But hey, second place isn’t so bad.”

You narrow your eyes, standing up straight. “You won by, like,” you scoff, “a millisecond at best. Don’t get all cocky. It was just pure luck.”

He laughs, raising an eyebrow at you. “Oh, come on, I didn’t think you were such a sore loser. It’s called strategy.”

“Strategy?” you repeat incredulously, “The only strategy you have is relying on your last name to get you ahead.”

“God, you’re still on that? I feel like you’re just using that as an excuse to use still. Just admit I’m as good as you. Better, even. I’ve won one more race than you now~”

The two of you kept a tally of how many races you both have won, you’ve had the same exact score as him for ages now, obviously, not anymore. But you’ll win next time, just he waits.

He takes a step closer to you, waiting and expecting you to make a snarky comeback at him like you always do as you angrily stare him down and he does the same.

For a second, just one second, your eyes flicker down to his lips and suddenly, you’re brought back to an incident that occurred a few months ago. A memory you’ve tried—and failed—to forget.

There is one thing you’ve never told anyone about. Not your teammates, not taehyun, and that is when you, of all people, made out with Choi Beomgyu one awfully unlucky night.

⸝⸝

THE SAID AWFULLY UNLUCKY NIGHT YOU AND CHOI BEOMGYU MADE OUT:

The nightclub was packed with racers, sponsors, and fans celebrating the after party of a big end of season race, air heavy with the scent of alcohol and sweat. You nursed your drink, leaning against the bar.

Of course, Beomgyu was at the centre of the dance floor, surrounded by a group of admirers, his laughter ringing out over the music. He was never hard to spot, the centre of attention always.

"Ugh," you muttered under your breath, taking another sip of your drink.

“And you’re still staring?” Taehyun had teased, sitting beside you.

"I’m not staring.” You snapped, rolling your eyes. "I’m wondering how he manages to be so insufferable and stupid all the time."

“Sure,” Taehyun stifles a laugh, raising his glass to you. “Just don’t kill each other before the next race.”

You down the last of your drink, slamming it on the bar counter and ordering another, “Can’t promise that.”

The rest of the night is a blur to you. Too many drinks, too many spinning lights, and far too much proximity to Beomgyu.

You’re not one to get shitfaced drunk. You prefer the comfortable state of slight tipsiness and anything other than that is not fun for you, because why would someone want to be so drunk off their ass to the point of throwing up and not being aware of their surroundings? Usually, you’d chastise people like that, wondering how they can’t even manage how much they drink. But on that night, you’d had one too many to count, you were drunk, too drunk. Not the comfortable tipsiness that you’re used to.

You know that at one point, either you or Beomgyu had come up to the other and the normal bickering had ensued. You know he was just as drunk as you so whatever you both were arguing about probably made no sense at all.

What you do remember though was looking at him, really looking at him, in the shifting, almost epileptic lights of the club.

How big and brown his eyes were, how long and thick his eyelashes were and how they fluttered like a doll every time he blinked. How plump and pouty his lips were, especially now that he was drunk, he just kept on pouting his lips and his cheeks were flushed all rosy from all the alcohol he’d had. His long wolfcut was messy by now, bangs falling into his eyes.

He looked different that night, too. Not the usual racing suit and helmet, but a stylish black suit with his shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal a silver necklace glinting against his skin.

All in all, beomgyu was a pretty boy. You get why he had a lot of fans.

He was still going on about something to you, slurring his words, probably insulting you, and the only logical solution to shut him up in your inebriated state at that moment, was to kiss his pouty lips. Luckily, you both were at the very corner of the nightclub shrouded in darkness, everyone else too busy dancing and whatnot to see you both.

You remember him gasping when you grabbed the collar of his black shirt, yanking him down and pressing your lips aggressively against his, but he kissed you back almost instantly, without a second thought.

You weren’t very gentle with him, pushing him forcefully against the wall even further and tugging at his necklace. The way you were making out with him was just pouring out all your anger you’ve felt towards him for years. But, he just let you. He let you do anything to him and you were surprised, so different to the cocky and confident beomgyu you knew. And that sheer control he let you have over him for once felt so good, you didn’t want to stop.

That, and the fact Choi Beomgyu was also just really good at kissing, he made it so difficult to pull away at all, lips so soft and plump and addictive, making you want more and more and more.

But, you never spoke an utterance of it afterwards, he never brought it up, neither did you. And honestly, it felt so surreal, making out with the Choi Beomgyu, the one who you no doubtedly hate his guts and him kissing you back so pliantly? You’d believe it more if it was all just a hallucination. You were so drunk you wouldn’t be surprised if you made it all up, dreamt it even. Maybe it was someone else you made out with and you were so drunk you can’t remember. It’d make more sense than Choi Beomgyu.

Although, you do find yourself thinking about the makeout session often times than not, his lips on yours just felt so good. Too good. It was like, the best makeout you’ve had in your life and you curse it for being him. Why he had to be the one whose lips you still thought about? you don’t know. You’re certain he had forgotten and you wish you could have just like he seemed to.

But anyway, fuck that and fuck him.

⸝⸝

"What? Cat got your tongue?" Beomgyu is still sneering at you, awaiting your comeback but you can’t think well at the moment.

Your face heats, and you shove past him. “Go to hell, Choi.”

And his laughter follows behind you as you walk away. Oh, how he infuriates you.

You have one goal: beat Choi Beomgyu. Today is the day you finally get to race against him again. He’d held that last victory over your head, taunting you endlessly, with that invigorating, stupid smirk of his and you’d had more than enough. Today was your chance to shut him up and kick his ass. You’ll put him in his place and win. You’d been waiting for this.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to another thrilling showdown! All eyes are on the two front runners y/n and Choi Beomgyu. These rivals have been neck and neck all season. Beomgyu won the last race but will he win again? Will today decide who’s truly on top?” The commentator’s voices boom over the loudspeakers.

The flagman waves the green flag, you slam on the gas pedal and you’re off, surging forward.

It wasn’t an easy race, beomgyu seemed motivated to win too. He was always either just ahead or just behind, not far enough for it be satisfactory, but nail bitingly tense, as anything could happen any moment. And right now, ahead, just barely, was him, blocking every attempt you made to overtake him.

“Y/n’s looking for an opening,” the commentators shout. “But Beomgyu’s defensive driving is flawless so far. Look at that precision!”

Loud noises of the engines are all you can hear, filling your ears as you manoeuvre around sharp turns, tires screeching against the asphalt. The laps all blur together but you’re nearing the end now.

You managed to get alongside him on the straight, your cars almost touching, crowd going wild as you both enter the next corner side by side, dangerously close.

“Neither driving is moving an inch!”

Suddenly, beomgyu’s car swerves towards yours, bumping and hitting at yours with such force, a dirty, blatant attempt at running you off the track and then he overtakes you. You gasp, fighting to stabilise your car, narrowly avoiding a spin. That was a new low, even for Choi Beomgyu. He’d never cheated like that before and you’re absolutely enraged.

The final lap is chaos, the audience on their feet now. You’re so incredibly angry, but you can’t let that get to you and hinder your focus, you clench your teeth, gripping your steering wheel so tight your knuckles are white, you’re even more determined to win than before.

The last stretch looms ahead and he’s just razor thin ahead of you, in the last second, you see your opening. Beomgyu had oversteered slightly on the turn, just enough for you to slip past him, you speed ahead.

“AND Y/N TAKES THE WIN IN A SPECTACULAR FINISH! THEY’VE DONE IT! WHAT A RACE!”

You crossed the line first. By a hair.

Everyone erupts, but your satisfaction is short-lived. Beomgyu’s cheating had completely soured your victory. The fucking nerve of him.

You barely register the reporters swarming you, bombarding your face with microphones. “Y/n! how does it feel to take first place?!”

“An incredible performance today, what was going through your mind?!”

The post race interview is a haze of forced smiles and generic answers. You’re barely listening as the reporters barrage you with questions. You’re still so pissed off at Beomgyu.

When it’s finally over, you make your way to the garage and that’s where you spot him leaning casually against his car, arms crossed in a nonchalant way. You clench your fists, blood boiling as you storm over to him. He’d crossed the line, well, not literally this time, but definitely fucking figuratively.

"You fucking cheated!" You shout, jabbing a finger at his chest.

He blinks innocently, tilting his head in a puppy like way. "Me? Cheat? That’s a very serious accusation to make. I’d never." There’s a slight smugness to him, almost mocking, he’s not even pissed he didn’t win like you’d wanted him to be, just calm and collected and being a bitch. It makes you even more livid with him.

“You intentionally tried to cause a collision with me. You should have been penalised. I don’t know how you weren’t!”

“Yeah, and you still won. So why are you even mad?” He crosses his arms and shrugs, ridiculing you. “If you can’t handle that maybe you should switch to something lighter like go karting instead.”

"Can’t handle?!" You splutter, looking at him in pure disbelief, your voice rising. "You arrogant, nepotistic, spoilt brat!-” Each insult punctuated with a sharp poke to his chest and, yet he still finds it all funny, bursting out into laughter at you.

Something inside you just snaps. It infuriates you how you’re the one who won and yet, you feel small. Why is he the one sneering at you? That should be you! You want to have the upper hand over him, some semblance of control— just like that night again when he was putty in your hands.

And so, before you can even register what you yourself are about to do, you grab him by his jacket, smashing your lips against his. He melts almost instantly, kissing you back so fervently and eagerly, as if he’d been waiting this whole time for this to happen. And you can’t lie, it felt almost euphoric to have his soft lips back on yours again. Almost like an addict getting their fix after a long withdrawal.

The kissing becomes heated fast, sounds of your mouths smacking filling the echoing garage as he lets you take over his mouth completely, letting you bite and pull at his bottom lip, emitting soft little gasps at this.

Even for the second time, it was disorienting seeing Beomgyu like this, nothing like the beomgyu you knew on the track or in the spotlight, and now with no alcohol in your system, neither of you could even blame whatever was going on right now on that. It’s all too intoxicating. It takes everything in you to pull back for air.

You push him against his car with more force than necessary, and Beomgyu stumbles slightly before sitting down on the top of the hood. His eyes are blown wide, flustered as you stand between his splayed legs, cupping his cheek and kissing him again, him responding immediately. This is how you like him. Your kisses trail down his jaw and the column of his neck, when you suck on his adam’s apple, he lets out a sharp intake and gasp, tilting his head back to give you more access, he already seems worked up from just a few kisses. Was his neck really that sensitive?

When your hand slides down to palm him through his trousers, his breath hitches and his jaw goes slack. “Oh…b-but we’re in public…” his cheeks flush a deep red and he protests weakly, plump lips all swollen and glossy and wet from the intense making out.

You raise a brow. “So you want me to stop?” You keep grinding your palm against his very hard length now, sucking on his neck and he shudders and whines cutely, very clearly enjoying it.

“W-wait no….” So you continue, he’s panting as you palm him, rutting into your hand himself. You pull back just enough to look at him, so dumb and lost in pleasure, lips parted with soft breathy moans and gasps as he chases the small friction you give him, his brows knitting together.

You roll your eyes at the sight of him, “Trying to run me off the track? You’re pathetic, beomgyu.”

“Pathetic?” He scoffs, still having the nerve to act like a brat when it’s all crumbling. “h-hah, if anyone’s pathetic it’s you—s-shit y/n—please. I need more, please.” Completely contradicting himself, because if there was only one word to describe him exactly right now, it would be pathetic.

“Admit it. Say you’re nothing but a dirty cheater first.”

“You wish.”

“Okay. I’ll leave you like this. All hard and horny.”

He hesitates, scowling, debating whether or not to challenge you, but when you stop all contact of palming and kissing his neck, starting to step away, he caves in.

“Wait!” He blurts, grasping at your wrist, eyes wide and pleading. “I’m…fine. Fine! I’m nothing but a dirty a cheater...” His face burns, embarrassed, humiliated, his pride hurt. The admission sends a thrill through you, he’s always been so full of himself, but now he’s just a needy pathetic mess for you. You’re having so much fun.

You grin. “Aw. What a good boy.” You coo sarcastically. The words have an instant effect on him though, whole body tensing and cheeks blooming into an even more impossibly vivid red and he whines, hands clutching at your hips to bring you back as he still sits pliantly on the hood of his car.

You unzip his pants, flushed pretty cock already leaking, slapping at his tummy and you brush your thumb over his sensitive tip, spreading the bead of pre-cum that gathered there slowly, watching his reaction and he looks down at the action himself, drawing out a helpless shudder and whimper from him. He groans, eyes half lidded when you wrap your hand around his cock, moving up and down with a deliberate slowness that makes his breath hitch every few seconds and whine.

“God, you’re so easy, beomgyu. Are you this much of a whore all the time?” You murmur and tease, dragging your teeth over his cute earlobe, ears all red, feeling him shiver.

“Shut”, he whimpers cutely, “up. I-i could…ah…fuck you stupid right now.” He retaliates or attempts to, but his hands grip the edge of the hood like he’s barely holding himself upright.

You laugh. “Oh, really? Because you look pretty wrecked already.” He was so fucked out right now, you wonder if he’d even be able to take it when you actually fuck him.

He’s still trying to keep up the pretense of resistance. “I’m not wrecked. You’re—” You pump his cock at a ruthless pace, jerking him off fast, occasionally toying with the slit on the head of cock and his body goes limp under you touch, moaning out prettily and loudly, eyes squeezing shut and panting, chest heaving. He clings to you now, head buried in your neck, practically drooling, body jerking with every stroke. He still attempts to bite back at you but they come out as dumb babbles and mumbles of nonsense, mewling and gasping, completely at your mercy.

Beomgyu whines and moans deliriously. “F-fuck! Oh—need to cum. C-can’t.” He removes his head from your neck to look up at you with glossy doe eyes, so wrecked and hanging on by a thread. You move your hand up and down his dick unrelentingly and before he’s just about to cum, you pull your hand off him.

The pained, frustrated cry that escapes him is deliciously pathetic. His hips jerk into the air desperately to chase the sensation, but it’s long gone now. He looks at you in shock, eyes wide in utter betrayal and devastation, and now wet with tears of frustration. But then he frowns and scowls, annoyed he didn’t get to cum. “What the fuck was that for?” He pouts.

“I could think of a lot honestly. But, don’t you want to cum inside me?”

His jaw hangs open. “Please. Yes.” Beomgyu breathes out, nodding fervently and looking at you with puppy eyes, pupils dilating and dazed at the thought alone.

Sliding off the hood, beomgyu takes your hand like an obedient puppy, and you open the car door. He sits in his driver’s seat, his flushed face tilted up to watch you as you climb onto his lap. You rid yourself of your own clothes, watching as his gaze drops immediately to your bare tits, breath catching and lips parting as he stares, seemingly captivated. He’s so stupid.

You grab his dick and use the head to rub your clit, making him let out little stuttered gasps, sliding him over your entrance and folds a few times before you sink slowly down completely. The feeling of your warm tight pussy making him go cross eyed as he groans, sucking in air and throwing his head back, grasping at your waist, furrowing his brows and mouth in an ‘o’ shape, you beginning to ride him.

It’s so hot and cramped and sweaty in the car now as you bounce on his dick continuously, being able to hear the obscene slapping and sticky noises so loudly. Beomgyu looks in a state of absolute, pure bliss, moaning like a bitch, mind all fogged up and mushy at the feeling of your pussy, his messy damp bangs falling into his eyes so all you can see is his very glistening round lips, still in that sustained ‘o’ shape, just so dumbed and fucked out.

He’s a gorgeous wreck, thick doll-like lashes fluttering. If only everyone else could see Choi Beomgyu like this right now. It feels so empowering and satisfying after all these years of him being so infuriating. You love how, despite his attempts at being bratty, he’s so docile and such a simple whore.

You tangle your hands in his hair and tug and pull every so often, which he clearly very likes if the high and strained moans are anything to show for this. His hands squeeze at your tits when it feels too good for him. His lips latch onto one of your nipples, tongue flicking over it and sucking and kissing as he looks up at you with his big brown eyes. When you deliberately clamp your pussy tightly around him, he moans out your name in response, muffled from him still sucking your tits needily, body slightly jerking.

“You remember, don’t you?—at the club?” You ask, although it was probably obvious by now.

Beomgyu pauses for a moment, popping his wet droolly mouth off your boobs, eyes darting away for a moment before returning to look at you, nodding vigorously, “of course I remember…l-liked it.” You cup his cheek again, kissing beomgyu hard, hands still tangled in his hair, tugging, fucking him mercilessly as he moans softly against your lips. “Oh god, m’ sso close. Can I cum?”

You nod, kissing him some more, “Cum for me, beomie.”

“Holyy s-shitt—” Beomgyu’s eyes roll to the back of his head, squeezing one of your tits as if for support, his back arches, his tongue lolling out dumbly, whole body trembling and shaking. You bring one of your hands to your clit, rubbing and riding yourself on him harder. With a choked off scream, he spills so much of his cum inside you, and the gorgeous sight brings you over the edge too, cumming as well.

He doesn’t pull out though, burying his face in your neck, gasping for air, groaning and clinging to you tightly, he’s still shuddering and you can feel little spurts of his cum still dribbling in you, pussy completely milking him.

The two of you sat in the car still afterwards in a slightly awkward silence. Both of you panting, trying to come down from your highs, left to fully take in what had just happened and also how thoughtless it was. Fucking Choi beomgyu in the garage? You’re incredibly lucky no one walked in. It wasn’t even like both of you were trying to be quiet either, none of that running through your mind at that moment. What if someone had heard?

Beomgyu, for once, was quiet, his usual smirk replaced with a dazed expression, so far gone. He leans slowly towards you though, looking as if he was about to kiss you again.

“This…this doesn’t mean anything by the way.” You mutter, beginning to button up your shirt.

Beomgyu scoffs, running a hands through his hair. “Doesn’t feel like nothing.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t. At all.” You roll your eyes, trying not to freak out, you open the car door, wanting more than anything to just get out. You walk away, leaving him there, disheveled and barely clothed, still slumped in the driver’s seat. And you don’t see it, but there’s a look of almost, somewhat hurt on his face.

A/n: happy new year !!<3 please give this lots of love it was such a bitch to write idk why but I really struggled with this 😭 also I’m so sorry to all the racing fans if makes no sense, I just made up my own kind of racing competition thing. Also the cars do not look anything like f1 cars 😭 more kind of like the nascar ones so they can actually fuck in it 😭 idk bro. I know no nothing about cars or racing. Also I’m sorry if the smut seems rushed and messy, I haven’t edited it and I was lowkey rushing to get this out

Please actually reblog !!!!!! and leave comments !!!! guys if you like the fic. It’s really appreciated and so nice tysm !<3🙏💕🌷🌷! It’s incredibly discouraging and disappointing when fics have such little reblogs ☹️👎🤨. At least send an anon in the inbox if you don’t want to rb, don’t just like. Feedback is always appreciated it makes writers want to actually write more :)

[snoopyracing]

rivals — ln4 & op81 : part two

part one

pairing: lando norris x reader x oscar piastri

word count: 8.6k

warnings: cursing and descriptions of a crash (injury and thoughts of death)  

summary: challengers!au.... when ferarri’s princess is forced to retire at the peak of her career she finds herself lost with no purpose. racing was all she had ever known and it was ripped right out from under her with no warning. feeling hopeless she pours her passion back into mentoring oscar piastri— mclaren’s reigning champion. old feelings emerge, rivalries reach their breaking point, and ex-teammates show up when oscar least expects it. yet all y/n wants to see is some good fucking racing.

a/n: drama and more drama in this chapter!! this took forever, but i hope the wait was worth it :)

masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The vibrant colors and culture of the Mexican Grand Prix fill the paddock as you scan your pass and go through the turnstile. Photographers are lined up like it’s a red carpet event to get pictures of the world champion walking in and like always you flash them a smile while signing various items for the fans that flock towards you. 

Media day isn’t your favorite, but is it really any driver’s favorite part of a race weekend? This Grand Prix you’d been graced with being a part of the press conference with a few of the other drivers first thing this morning. Your manager Mia was waiting for you as soon as you entered Ferrari’s motorhome and the two of you went over your schedule for the day as you made the trek to the press conference.

It’s interviews first thing this morning, then some social media content with Charles, a track walk with your inner team, and then meetings with the team as a whole to end your first day in Mexico City. It’s a booked and busy day– per usual. 

You’re the last to enter the room for the press conference and you immediately spot the driver in the obnoxiously bright papaya team kit sitting on the white couch, who’s accompanied by Russell. 

“Someone’s late.” An Australian accent fills your ears as you join your fellow colleagues on the couch. 

“I’m actually right on time.” You state as you glance down at the luxurious watch on your wrist, then back towards the Australian with a knowing smirk on your face. 

Oscar and you had grown close over the course of the season. He’d become a friend– which was something you’d never thought you’d hear yourself say about one of the other drivers, but it was true. It had helped that McLaren’s car had seemed to come alive this season, so you were actually able to get some racing in with him this season. He was good and you were starting to wonder if he might become an issue next season when it came to the championship. 

The other McLaren driver or you guess you should say ex-McLaren driver whose seat is apparently being warmed by Pato O’Ward until he comes back next year has become more than a friend to you. It wasn’t a secret to the world that Lando and you were clearly together. Formula E’s schedule is basically half of what Formula 1’s is– so seeing each other hasn’t been a difficult process. You two would come and support each other when you could and spend time together when you could. It wasn’t super serious, but it wasn’t super casual at the same time, to you at least it was a good balance. 

The press conference was underway not too long after you had gotten settled and of course it was the same questions as always that were asked towards you. 

Do you think you can maintain this championship lead? 

Do you think you'll get your second championship win this year? 

The season is winding down and the points are close between Max and you? Who do you think will win? 

Is Ferrari doing everything they can to help you win this championship? 

The questions and their answers you think you could recite in your sleep by now and if it wasn’t for your publicity agent staring you down like a hawk from the corner of the room you’d be tempted to give a smartass response to the press, but instead you give them the same answer with nothing but professionalism and poise. 

Thankfully the riveting questions were soon over and you could get on with your day. Maybe if they asked you interesting questions you wouldn’t dread it so much, but the majority of the reporters are men– the same men who ridiculed you when you got your seat, so you can’t expect much from such small brains. 

As you’re getting up from the couch Oscar strides over towards you with his hands stuffed awkwardly in his pockets. “Hey, do you want to get lunch later?”

You glance over at Mia, fully expecting her to be chomping at the bit to get you onto your next task, but she’s too engrossed in her phone at the moment, which means you had some time to play with Oscar. “I don’t know Piastri. I’m pretty booked up for the rest of the day.” 

“You’re too busy for me?” The words slip right past his tongue and he regrets saying them as soon as he hears himself say it. He watches as your eyebrows furrow and he knows you’ll reply in that laughing yet condescending tone that you always do when he gets too comfortable around you. 

“What makes you think you’re that high up on my roster?” 

Oscar internally cringes, just when he thinks he’s wormed his way closer to you, you go and show him just how much power you hold and just how much he’s not Lando. 

You notice how Oscar switches his weight back and forth on his feet, he’s uncomfortable, and really you didn’t mean to make him uncomfortable. It’s just so much fun and easy to make him squirm and really you do like Oscar. You wouldn’t tease him like you do if you didn’t.

Oscar had amazing qualities, he was a hell of a driver and he was kind and gentle– obedient. 

The opposite of Lando. 

You offer him a genuine smile to try and bring him back from whatever mental hellscape he’d reverted into. “Listen, I’ve got social media content to film with Charles and then I’ll text you about lunch alright?” 

His eyes light up and he stands tall and confident in front of you– his hands now at his sides instead of stuffed into his pockets. “Ok, I’ll talk to you later?” 

“Yes, I’ll text you.” You reassure him before heading off towards Mia before she’s the one dragging you away.

When it came to filming content with Charles there was never a dull moment. The two of you were so competitive that if it was a challenge video you’d think it was life or death between you two. You actually don’t mind the content side of your job. It’s a hell of a lot easier than some of the stuff you have to do and sometimes it can be really fun. The food videos have to be your favorite– during the Dutch GP a stroopwafel hates to see you coming. 

After spending almost two hours filming things individually and with Charles you find yourself sitting at an umbrella covered table with Oscar in the middle of the bustling paddock. A turkey club sits on the plate in front of you and you’re thankful you escaped having to eat whatever your trainer had planned for you for lunch today. 

Oscar and you talk about this weekend and if you think he’ll be on the podium with you. He thinks there is a good chance– you don’t let him know that you think so too. As much as you love to tease Oscar and mess with him, you have grown fond of spending time with him. Besides Charles and maybe two other drivers, Oscar is the only one that you enjoy spending time with. You’ve found that he can make you laugh– like full belly laugh and it’s Oscar’s favorite thing, but he won’t tell you that. 

There’s a beat of silence between you two as you continue to eat your lunch and your eyes can’t help but linger on him. His hair has gotten long– he’s been away from home too long to get it cut and it’s starting to fall into his eyes. The slight breeze that travels through the paddock has it billowing through the air. When he turns his head to look out at the paddock you try not to stare at the little curls that are starting to form at the nape of his neck and before your mind can start to wander you abruptly clear your throat and start a new conversation. 

“Did Lando tell you he’s coming to Brazil?” You ask before stuffing another bite of the sandwich in your mouth. 

Oscar’s heart skips a beat at the mention of Lando, but not in the way you’d think. “Yeah he told me.” 

“We should all get dinner or something.” You offer. 

He shrugs, pushing his salad around on his plate with his fork. “Yeah if you want.” 

You eye Oscar as he continues to play with his food instead of eating it. He was nothing but bunny teeth smiles and laughter a moment ago and now you’d think he hated the world. You set your sandwich down on your plate, wiping your hands on your pants before you rest your elbows on the table, leaning in as you speak. “What’s up?” 

His eyes flicker up from his plate towards you. “Nothing.” 

“Oscar.” He just stares at you with that same bothered look on his face. “This whole thing you’re doing is stupid. You’re not good at it. If you have something you want to say then tell me. Don’t play this broody mysterious thing with me. It’s dumb.” 

He sets his fork down and crosses his arms across his chest, suddenly defensive. “I’m not doing a thing. I’m just…” His words trail off and he knows he shouldn’t say it, but he wants to so badly. 

“Well go on.” You pry, your body language mimicking his. 

“I’m surprised you guys are still seeing each other.” 

You both stare at each other for a moment, Oscar in disbelief that he finally worked up the courage to say what he’d been thinking and you in disbelief that he had the nerve to comment on your relationship like that and it made you wonder– what did he know?

“Okay.” You simply state, grabbing your food and getting up to leave. You weren’t going to have this conversation here or with Oscar. 

“I’m sorry!” Oscar blurts out when he sees you leaving. 

You stop and turn back to face him, your emotions starting to get the better of you. “Why did you want to have lunch with me today?” 

“I told you I just wanted to hang out with you.” 

“Don’t be such a fucking pussy. Is he seeing other girls while he’s away? Is that what this is?” Your anger is starting to boil over and you think if Oscar tells you that’s the case the remainder of this turkey club may be launched across the paddock. 

Oscar on the other hand wants to punch himself for digging himself this hole and he knows it’s only going to get deeper, especially when he’s talking to you. 

“No. I mean… I don’t know. That’s not what I’m trying to say.” He’s chewing on his words and it’s a sorry sight to witness. 

“Then what are you trying to say, Oscar?” You wait for a response, anything to imply what he’s trying to say and when you’re met with silence you don’t think you’ve ever been more annoyed. A scoff and an eyeroll is all he gets from you before you’re turning back around to leave once again. 

You’re not even a foot away from the table when he blurts out the last thing you expected. 

“He’s not in love with you.”

You immediately spin on your heel and face the Australian driver once more, your anger had officially boiled over. “Who says I want somebody to be in love with me?” Love was a strange thing for you, you didn’t crave it. You wanted loyalty instead of love, you wanted someone who matched you, who challenged you. The word love was used so much in today’s society who even could actually say what love was? To you– it didn’t mean a thing. “When did I say I was in love with him?” 

Oscar swallows hard– his Adam's apple bobbing. “You didn’t.” 

“So why would I care whether or not he loved me?” 

“I guess you wouldn’t.” Oscar says with a shrug. 

“Cool.” You’d hoped this would be the last time a conversation like this happens with Oscar. 

“Cool.” He replies back and you think this whole thing is over with, but then he goes and opens his mouth again. “Don’t you think you deserve it?” 

You study his face and you see that look he’s giving you, it’s been the same look he’s given you since that night in Monza last year. The same look when you ultimately chose Lando over him. It made you sick to look at him, to see the longing in his face over you. “Jesus fucking christ.” 

“I mean who wouldn’t be in love with you?” He challenges and you want to grab him by his stupid McLaren polo and knock some sense into him, but you just laugh at him and turn to leave for the final time. “Sorry.” Oscar says again and he knows he overstepped your boundaries, but god if it didn’t feel good to soil a little bit of what Lando and you had.

“You know I think you might be the worst friend in the world.” You tell him as you throw your lunch in the trash, your appetite long gone by now. 

“Maybe.” 

“Definitely. Thanks for lunch Oscar.” 

He watches you leave until you disappear into the crowd of various team kits and prays that you don’t punt him into the wall on Sunday. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

A week later Formula 1 is in São Paulo and Oscar and you have barely spoken. He’s been dreading this week ever since he found of Lando was coming, now add in your argument and he’s ready for the week break before Vegas to begin. 

Oscar’s in McLaren’s hospitality early on race day chatting with a team member when he hears Lando before he sees him. The way people still flock to him and how he makes a big entrance even after leaving the team goes straight through Oscar. Lando could use a lesson in humility, but he wasn’t going to be the one to give it to him. He feels a heavy hand land on his shoulder and he knows exactly who it belongs to. 

“Hi mate. Long time no see huh?” Lando says with a grin on his face. 

Oscar nods his head at the Brit. “A couple months I think.” 

“I think we need to catch up.” 

Oscar watches as Lando strikes up a conversation with the worker at the snack bar and the way he tries to charm everyone he meets makes him sick. In all honesty Oscar did have some issues with Lando at the moment. He was grateful for having him as his teammate his rookie year and the bond they formed over the course of it, but times like this and ever since you came into their life– he’d found Lando harder to swallow. 

When McLaren’s hospitality had started to serve churros from the snack bar Oscar wasn’t sure, but somehow Lando had appeared with two of them in his hand and Oscar took one of them with a tight lipped smile on his face. 

“So, tell me about your season.” Oscar hopes that maybe if he starts off the conversation he can control it and this won’t last forever. Lando takes a bite of his churro and shrugs. “No fun stuff?” Oscar pries a little more.

“Like what?” Lando asks, fully knowing what Oscar is implying.

It’s Oscar’s turn to shrug at his ex teammate. “I don’t know…. are you seeing anybody?” 

“What do you mean? I’m taken. What do you think I’m doing here?” 

Lando’s got the sly smirk on his face that always made Oscar irate, but he knows Lando is someone who wants a reaction. He wants to provoke people to get a reaction. It doesn’t matter if it’s positive or negative and Oscar is always one to try and deny him of that. 

“You’re not here to visit me?” Oscar half jokes. 

Lando studies Oscar’s face and he notices how his expression darkens. He knows Oscar is thinking about you and then undoubtedly you and Lando together. Lando knows Oscar wants to say something, but he won’t until Lando opens the floor. “What?” 

Oscar takes a bite of his churro, the gears in his mind turning as he chews. “Nothing, just– are you really committed to this thing?” 

The thing about Oscar and Lando is that they’re always talking about you, even when they aren’t talking about you. 

“To Y/N? Yeah. I mean we’re taking it slow, but you know, I like her. I think she’s making me an honest man.” Lando can see the unconvinced look on Oscar’s face and he scoffs at the sight of it. “What, you don’t believe me?” 

Oscar shakes his head. “No I just– I’m not sure how she’s thinking about it. I don’t want you to get hurt.” 

Lando audibly laughs at the Australians choice of words. “You don’t want me to get hurt?” Oscar only nods and as Lando watches him he wonders if Oscar knows something he didn’t. “Did she say something to you?” 

“No, I just got the impression that she’s not really thinking about this as a serious relationship.” 

Lando quirks an eyebrow at Oscar. “You got that impression?” 

“Yeah. From a conversation we had.” 

There’s a beat of silence between the two former teammates before Lando’s got a shit eating grin on his face and he’s putting his arm around Oscar’s thick neck– pulling him in closer to him. “You fucking snake.” Lando’s voice is low enough for only Oscar to hear and from his facial expressions Lando can tell he’s confused or playing stupid. “Honestly, I’m proud of you. I’d be doing the same thing.” 

“I’m not-” 

“It’s fine. It’s exciting to see you this way.” Lando smiles at Oscar as he takes another bite from his churro. “It’s what’s been missing from your racing.” 

“What?” Oscar scoffs. 

“It’s nice to see you lit up about something, even if that something is my girlfriend.” 

Oscar doesn’t think hearing Lando call you his girlfriend would affect him that much, but it does. He knows you two will never last and in the end it will be him that will have to pick up the pieces. “Is that what you guys are calling each other now?” 

“You know this just makes it hotter for me, right? You sitting here, pining for her.” 

“I would never–”

Lando rolls his eyes at Oscar. “I know. It’s not your style. You’re playing percentage racing– waiting for me to fuck up.” 

The two drivers just stare at each other for a moment, it’s awkward and no one really knows what to say for a minute. There were so many unspoken words and words that were disguised as something else during their conversation. Oscar wanted to say so much more to Lando, but he’d save it for another day. 

Lando’s the first to break the silence. “Come on. Walk me over there.” He gets up from his seat and shoves the remainder of his churro in Oscar’s face. Oscar looks at the sweet treat then up to Lando and then without breaking eye contact he bites the rest of the churro out of Lando’s hand. Lando laughs and pats Oscar on the back as they make their way out of McLaren’s hospitality. 

On their short journey to Ferrari’s hospitality Lando spots a fan near the entrance, clearly waiting for you to come out, holding a sign that said something along the lines of Princess of Ferrari. He smiles at the fan and pretends he didn’t notice the other ten signs that he’d seen as he walked into the paddock this morning. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It’s less than an hour before the lights go out and where do you find yourself? Half naked on top of an also half naked Lando. It had been awhile since you two had seen each other and honestly you couldn’t hold yourself back when you saw him walk into hospitality. Your drivers room had seen some action over the course of the season to say the least and your poor physio table was on its last leg. 

“I missed you.” Lando murmurs as his lips trail down your neck. “You have no idea how lonely it’s been this past month.” 

“Is that why you haven’t won any races?”

Lando laughs half heartedly. “I just told you I missed you.” 

You move your hips just the right way and he’s grabbing the hem of your shirt and pulling it off of you– tossing it with no direction. 

“I watched your last race. You could have overtaken Nyck on the first corner if you’d gotten a better start off the line.” You state in between the kisses you litter across his chest. 

Lando looks at you a little dumbfounded that this is your topic of conversation during this kind of activity. His hand reaches out towards you, yet at his touch you don’t look up at him. “Y/N, look at me.” 

“What?” Your lips are swollen and your eyes wide. 

He reaches for you, pulling you down towards him and his lips find that spot on your neck that drives you wild, makes you whimper with no shame, and it’s music to Lando’s ears. 

“When were you going to tell me about Oscar?” He whispers as he continues his assault on your neck . 

“I thought you knew.” You say breathless. 

Lando detaches himself from you, his hand reaching up to brush your wild hair out of your face. “I mean, I feel bad because I know he’s in pain but…” He shrugs with a sly smirk on his face and you can’t help but stir the pot. 

“You’re not threatened by him?” 

“No.” Lando says plain as day. 

The smirk that was once on Lando’s face has now traveled over to yours. “You should be.” You state as your hand travels slowly down his chest towards the waistband of his boxers. You snap the waistband on his skin, teasing him, and earning an audible hiss in the process before sliding your hand in. “He’s good looking, he’s smart, and he’s a really fucking good driver.” You state as you toy with Lando mentally and physically. 

He’s panting heavily, eyes screwed shut as he tries to collect himself. “He’s always been… very good.”

“I’m serious. Oscar’s gotten a lot better this season.” 

Lando’s eyes narrow at you for a moment, this was no longer you trying to just rile him up, you were actually just bragging on Oscar. “Are the two of us still racing for your number? Because I thought I won.” 

You quickly retreat your hand from his boxers, your hands now on either side of his face as you lean down over him. “That’s your problem. You always think you’ve won before the race is over.” 

“Are we talking about racing?” Lando asks. 

“We’re always talking about racing.” 

“Can we not?” 

You look at the man below with disgust and irritation, if he didn’t want to talk about racing then why was he with you? “Sure.” You state, removing yourself from his lap and collecting your clothes that were scattered across your small driver’s room. 

“What are you doing?” He asks, still perched on your physio table. 

“I have to do my routine. I’ll see you after the race.” You’re not even looking at him as you speak, yet you can feel his eyes burning into you. 

“Y/N.” 

You finally turn to face him, a stone cold look adorns your face. “If you’re not interested in me fixing your racing for free then don’t worry about it.” 

Lando’s off the table now, but he’s still leaning against it, his arms crossed across his toned chest. “Why do you care so much?” 

“I’m dating you. It’s embarrassing for me if you suck.” 

You can sense Lando’s anger starting to rise, yet it doesn’t bother you one bit, if he didn’t want the truth, then he shouldn’t have asked. 

“I suck now?”

You shrug at him as you grab your fireproofs out of the small closet in the corner and put them on.

“It’s not all glamorous in other series like it is here in F1. We all can’t walk around being graced with the honor of being called the Princess of Ferrari.” 

You look at him and you can’t help the baffled laugh that comes out of your mouth. His face and words showed nothing but jealousy. He was jealous of your success and your status. It was downright pitiful. 

“Wow.” 

“I’m happy that people adore you. I just don’t need you to be my coach.” 

He’s being condescending and he doesn’t know just how low you can go in this argument. 

“Well someone needs to be.” 

Lando sighs, not wanting this to turn into a bigger mess than it already is, but it’s no use. “Can we just–” 

“I mean, what do you need from me? Or what do you think you need? A cheerleader? A fuck buddy? A girlfriend?” You start doing some stretches, wishing your physiologist was in here right now instead of Lando. “There are a lot of girls who are dying to be your girlfriend. You’re Lando Norris– talented, charming, and you’ve got a big dick. Go be with one of them.”  

“Is this like a new strategy you’re using to pump yourself up before the race? Have a little fight to get yourself going?” Lando knew you were short tempered, but this was ridiculous. 

“I don’t need a fight to get myself going.” 

“No. Just an hour of meditation.” He’s referring to your pre race routine, the one he was currently interrupting. 

“How’s coasting by on talent working out for you?”

Lando scoffs and you know you’ve struck a nerve.

“Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to have you complain to me every week about all the ways you’re being screwed over? How can you possibly think that’s a good use of my time?” 

“Excuse me for inconveniencing you.” Lando states in a sarcastic tone. 

“You are.” You deadpan. “I need to be alone now. I’ll see you after the match.” You wave him off as you sit down on the floor to stretch out your legs. 

Lando can feel his anger boiling over, you had just basically insulted him and complained about him to his face and then dismissed him like he was a dog. “No.” 

You furrow your eyebrows at him as you look up at him. “What?” 

He squats down to your level– getting right up in your face. “I’m not going to the race. Not if you think you can just dismiss me. I’m not some fucking lap dog who’s gonna sit around and let you punish me. I’m not Oscar.” You laugh in his face and Lando allows for it to fuel his rant. “I mean maybe you need someone like that. Someone who’s gonna hop on board with your life and be Mr. Y/N Y/L/N.” 

“That’s what you think I want?” You ask as Lando stands over you now. 

“Yeah, a member of your fan club.” Lando lets out a breathless laugh as he says it, like it’s something beneath him. 

You rise from the ground, standing face to face with Lando, his eyes a hurricane of colors as they stare back at you. “You’re not a member of my fan club?” 

“I’m your peer. I’m not your groupie. And I’m definitely not your student.” 

You just stare at him, your expression cold and distant, there was nothing else to say at this point. You had a race to win shortly and it didn’t matter if Lando was in that crowd or not. He’d made his stance clear and you were not one to beg. “Okay.” 

Lando grabs his shirt and jeans and quickly throws them on. This was not how he expected today to go at all, but there was no use in sticking around at this point. The damage had been done and Lando was never good at picking up the pieces. 

“Good luck today champ.” He states before the door slams shut behind him. 

You let out a deep sigh that you didn’t realize you’d been holding in the whole time. It was time to push all of this to the back of your mind and focus on the task at hand. So you zip up your race suit and put on your boots and once you exit the threshold of your driver’s room and into the hustle and bustle it’s like the fight with Lando hadn’t even happened. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Rain was nothing new during the Brazilian GP, in fact it was expected, but this year it seemed as though mother nature didn’t want this race to happen. It had been an issue all weekend, the rain being so heavy that qualifying almost got cancelled yesterday. Today was no different and with fifteen minutes before lights out they decide to postpone the race.

The rain pours down in bucketfuls as you stand at the edge of the garage and the pitlane. Puddles that have seemed to be there all weekend litter the ground and the softest rumble of thunder echoes off in the distance. As time progresses it seems more and more likely that this race won’t be happening, but you still prepare yourself in case the skies clear and the track dries. 

Your race suit hangs loosely around your hips and bright red headphones sit snugly over your ears as you look over the data on the monitor in front of you. Your strategist rattles off possible scenarios and you listen as if there was no chance of cancellation. You had to be ready for anything and if that was racing in these unfavorable conditions– then so be it. 

Meanwhile over in the McLaren garage Oscar is perplexed as to why Lando is there. Usually he’d come and visit, but he spent his time in the Ferrari garage with you on race weekends that he was here. He pretends to listen to what his engineer is telling him as he eyes Lando talking to Zak across the garage. When Zak walks away Oscar can’t resist the urge to go over and be nosey.

“Did you get banned from the Ferrari garage or something?” Oscar asks jokingly, but when Lando’s face turns sour Oscar knows something’s gone down. 

Lando glances around the garage– everyone’s too busy at the moment trying to figure out what strategy to go with that they shouldn’t be listening in on his conversation, but he still lowers his voice. “We had a big fight. I was actually on the next flight out of here, but the weather delayed everything. So I guess I’m stuck here for a while now.” 

Oscar’s eyes widen, yet he can’t deny that small part of him that is happy to hear that things are rocky between the two of you at the moment. “Damn. I’m sorry mate.” He clamps a hand down on Lando’s shoulder and from the look on Oscar’s face Lando knows he’s not really sorry. Why would he be? Lando had beat him in the competition for you– any sign of instability in your relationship was like a present on Christmas morning to him. 

“It’s whatever. We’ll be back to normal by tonight.” Lando glances over at the MCL38 that’s sitting stationary in the garage. “Maybe you could use this upgraded machine to beat her.” Lando suggests. 

Oscar quietly laughs– you could beat him in a Sauber. “Yeah maybe.”

 ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

By some miracle the rain clouds had cleared long enough for the FIA to declare that it was safe enough for the race to continue. Although the huge puddles that were still standing on the track and the dark clouds coming in from the west told you differently. Nonetheless you had a job to do and sometimes this job wasn’t all glitz and glamour. So you finalize your strategy tactic with your team and start to prepare yourself for probably the most challenging two hours of your career so far. 

You can tell that everyone at Interlagos right now is a little on edge– team members, drivers, fans. There’s excitement in the air for the race to start, but the rain clouds in the distance foreshadow something much darker. 

The first spot on the starting grid belongs to you today and as you sit in the cockpit of your beloved SF-24 you see the first drops of rain on your visor– then Alice’s voice in your ear. 

One minute till formation. There is a small rain shower that should be done before the formation lap is over. 

What about the black sky right in front of me? 

We’re still watching it. There is a chance it goes around us. I’ll keep you updated. 

The formation lap goes smoothly enough, the track is wet and there is spray of course, but for right now it just seems like a normal rain race. When you line back up on the grid you take in who’s around you– Max to the left, Oscar behind you, and Charles behind Max. It was going to be an interesting race, even without the rain. 

You watch the five lights in front of you and with killer like precision you’re first off the line when they go out. Max is quick but not quick enough to hit the apex before you at turn one and you watch in your mirrors as Oscar overtakes him.

You’re at the top of your game during this race, pushing out the fastest laps consistently and building a gap between Oscar and you beautifully. The track had started to dry and a clear racing line had started to form as the laps went by, but the dark clouds still loomed in the distance. Even with the threat of rain some teams start to pit for slicks and soon enough you hear Alice in your ear. 

How’s the tires? 

I’m not pitting for slicks if that’s what you’re implying. These inters can last me for a couple more laps.

Copy that Y/N.

Weather update? 

Looks like we won’t be as lucky as we hoped. It will be here in about five laps. Rain will be moderate. 

Okay.

The rain arrives in two laps and it starts out slow– the cars that pitted for slicks start to struggle as the track becomes wet again. Then the first yellow flag of the session happens as Lawson spins out, thankfully he’s alright, but a VSC is deployed as they get the car off the track. Two more drivers spin out after Lawson and as teams start to pit for full wet tires the rain picks up expeditiously. It had went from a rain shower to torrential downpour in seconds, the visibility damn near at zero as you drive this race car around the circuit. Alice comes over the radio, her usual cool demeanor replaced with one of concern. 

Y/N box on this lap. 

Where the hell is the red flag? Someone is going to die, the visibility is horrible, the track is flooding. This is insane even for me. 

I know. The win doesn’t even matter anymore, just make it back to the pits safely please. 

You don’t make it back. 

It all happened so fast, you could see a car behind you, but you weren’t sure who it was. The one thing you did know was that they were coming into this corner way too fast and when you tried to correct the car to get out of their way you hydroplaned. The flash of pink that you see let’s you know its an Alpine that you’re about ready to collide with. Then all at once you hear the crunch of carbon fiber and the car is flying into the wall. The force of the collison knocks you out and Alice’s constant radio messages are met with silence. 

The crowd screams and gasps are heard throughout all the garages as the replay and aftermath of your wreck are shown on the screens. It’s one of the worst wrecks Formula 1 has seen in a good while and the fact that you’re not talking or moving has everyone fearing the worst. Your car is completely destroyed– the Alpine that belongs to Gasly is practically on top of yours and when you finally come to it feels like every bone in your body is broken.

You scream out in pain as you’re trapped in your car and as the medics and what seems like a million other people work to get you out the only thing you can think about, besides how much pain you’re in, is how this is the end of everything. Tears fill your helmet as they finally extract you from your car and strap you to the gurney, 

The ambulance ride to the hospital is a blur of being poked and prodded while words in English and Portuguese are quickly spoken to you. You can’t see much from the tears in your eyes and the fact that your head is strapped down onto the gurney, the roof of the ambulance and the paramedics are all you can see. Which is a blessing in disguise because if you could see how mangled your leg and arm is you’d probably pass out again.

Your memory from when you exit the ambulance to when you wake up in recovery is almost nonexistent and all you can recall is flashes of moments. Doctors yelling, bright lights, machines beeping– it was almost like a scene from a medical drama. 

You squint as you open your eyes, the room slowly coming into focus as you blink. You’re no longer in pain and you wonder if you’ve died, but then the sound of Alice’s voice fills your ears. 

“Oh thank god you’re awake!” She exclaims. You turn your head to the right to see her standing at the edge of your bed, a relieved smile stretched across her face. Alice was more than just your race engineer– she was like family to you. She was a person you could trust with your life and for her to be the person who was here when you woke up meant the world to you. 

“Am I alive? I can’t feel anything.” You ask hoarsely, your throat raw and dry. 

She laughs as her hand reaches out towards you, brushing your hair out of your face. “Yes sweetie. They’ve just got you on some good drugs right now for the pain.” 

You just nod at her, your energy already spent on speaking those few words. There’s a knock at the door and a lady, who you’re assuming is the doctor, walks in. 

“Nice to see you awake Ms. Y/L/N. You had one nasty crash.” She pauses for a moment and looks over at Alice who nods back at her. “I’m not gonna sugar coat this, your injuries are extensive. Your right wrist was fractured and your right leg, particularly your tibia, was also fractured. You’ve got four broken ribs and a bruised sternum. Thankfully you only suffered a mild concussion– a wreck like this you’re lucky you didn’t suffer a worse fate with your head.” She looks down at her clipboard like she’s unsure if she should say this at the moment, but then she sighs and focuses her attention back on you. “I’m going to be honest, recovery is going to be a long and rough process, but if anyone can come back from this I know you can.” 

She continues to talk, but you’ve zoned out already. Your concussion and the drugs in your system make taking this horrific news harder than it should be. You want to be in denial and think you’re just in here for a bump on the head and a few scrapes and bruises, but the reality is that you almost died today. This crash has altered your life forever and as you lay there in that hospital bed in Brazil you realize that you may be alive, but a part of you did die today. 

The doctor leaves and Alice says something about going to call your parents and you just hum in response, the reality of your situation settling in. You close your eyes and try to go to sleep, praying that when you wake up this will all have been just one big nightmare. You hear the door open and you assume it’s just Alice coming back in so you don’t open your eyes, but the voice that softly whispers your name does not belong to Alice. 

You slowly open your eyes and there stands Oscar at the foot of your bed. He’s looking at you like you’re some half dead animal that got hit on the side of the road and it makes you laugh, well as best you can. 

“I’m done for Osc.” You state bleakly. 

He shakes his head furiously as he moves to the side of your bed. “Don’t say that.” 

“How am I meant to drive with a fucked wrist and leg?” 

“Physical therapy and training. You’ll be back in that car come March I know it. You’re strong Y/N.” Oscar hopes his words instill you with some confidence.

He wasn’t going to tell you this, but he was behind Pierre on the track, he saw the whole crash happen right in front of him. It was horrible and it still made his stomach twist to think about it. He thought you were dead, the replays of them carrying your body out of the mangled car will haunt his dreams for some time. If it was up to him he would have been here as soon as he got out of the car, but you were in surgery and this wasn’t the movies, he had rules and obligations to follow, no matter the circumstances according to the team and the FIA. 

“Who ended up winning?” You ask, wanting to stop talking about the impending end of your career. 

“Verstappen.” 

You scoff. “That fucker.” 

You two talked for awhile, he was good at distracting you from your own thoughts, but there is someone that you figured would have shown up by now. Hours had passed– a statement had been released that you were awake and alright, Charles and Lewis had also stopped by to visit you, yet no Lando. 

Yes you guys had a horrible fight earlier, but for fucks sake you’d almost died and he couldn’t be bothered to come and see if you were alright? The hospital was getting ready to stop their visiting hours when you see a curly brown mullet peak around the doorframe. 

“I’m sorry, I–” 

“Out.” You didn’t want to see him at this point, any excuse he was getting ready to give you meant absolutely nothing to you. 

“Y/N.” He pleads. 

“Out!” You raise your voice and you wince at the pain that radiates through your throat. The tube they’d shoved down it earlier had apparently done some damage. 

“Listen–” 

You want to jump out of this hospital bed and strangle him, but you don’t have the capability of doing that right now or even the capability of yelling at him. You look over at Oscar, hoping he gets the message that you’re pleading to him through your eyes. 

Oscar’s mad for you, he’d noticed how everytime someone passed your room you glanced, hoping it was Lando, and then ultimately being disappointed when it wasn’t. He has no idea where the Brit had been this whole time, but he knows no matter what went down between the two of you earlier that Lando should have been here for you. 

“Lando. Get the fuck out of here.” 

Lando stands there dumbfounded, especially after Oscar had yelled at him. His eyes dart over to Oscar and then to you, who turns your head away from him. Lando shakes his head in disbelief before turning on his heel and leaving. 

You break up with him the next week when he comes to see you when you’re back home in Monaco. He cries– you don’t. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The months following your accident are the hardest months of your life. Physical therapy is like pure torture, some days are worse than others, and majority of the time you want to give up, but you don’t. You tell yourself that this is just a small setback that the thoughts you had in the hospital and that you have late at night don’t mean anything. You tell yourself that you’ll be back in the car next season and after a while you start to believe it more than the dark thoughts that cloud your mind. 

February rolls around and you start doing some light training with Oscar– it’s nothing crazy, just some weights. Your wrist had healed significantly faster than your leg and you figured you could do a little something extra than what you had been doing in physical therapy, but you were wrong. You’re doing some bench presses and Oscar’s hovering like this ten pound weight is going to kill you. You’d told him to put more on, but he insisted on starting out slow. 

You put the barbell up and get up from the bench. “This is doing nothing. I need more weight on it Oscar.” He stands in front of the rack of weights like he’s guarding it with his life. “Stop going easy on me, put another ten on.” 

“No. You’ll snap your wrist. I told you this wasn’t a good idea to begin with.” 

You roll your eyes at the Australian. “I won’t snap my wrist. I know my limits.” 

“Your actual trainer doesn’t even know we are doing this. It’s going to end badly.” Oscar knew this was way too soon for you to be back in the gym like this, but he also knew you were internally panicking. It was already February and you were nowhere near the peak physical performance that you needed to be at. Testing was at the end of this month and then the season started two weeks after that. In shorter terms– you were screwed. 

“Don’t be a fucking pussy. Put more weight on.” You’re irritated with him and when he just stands there and stares at you it makes you even more irate. “Whatever. I’ll just come back later by myself.” 

Oscar’s eyes widen at the thought of you being here by yourself and undoubtedly hurting yourself with no one around. “Fine. Only ten more.” 

You lay back down on the bench and watch as Oscar puts the extra weight on the ends. You take a deep breath as you grip the bar and Oscar hovers over you, ready to catch the bar when it all goes to shit. 

Which happens after two reps. 

You feel a twinge of pain in your wrist after the first one, but when you go to raise the bar a second time a searing hot pain travels from your wrist up your arm and you scream out in pain. Oscar’s face is full of terror as he grabs the bar from you and easily puts it back up. You’re sat up by now, but doubled over as you hold your wrist. Oscar sits down next to you on the bench and he can see the tears streaming down your face. 

“I’m fine.” 

“Are you sure?” Oscar questions, everything about you screams you're not fine at the moment.

“I’m good. I’m okay.” You take a beat and then. “I’m good.” You repeat yourself, hoping that the more you do the more it will become true and that the searing pain in your wrist will go away. 

Oscar watches as you self soothe yourself and without thinking he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. He feels you stiffen at his touch before you allow yourself to melt into him. You allow him to comfort you and be there for you and in that moment it’s all you need. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Two weeks before the season starts the team wants to see how you do on the simulator. You told them you were ready, but your trainer and deep down yourself both knew you weren’t. Yet you’re so stubborn, so hard headed that you strap yourself in and power through the pain as the high tech machine replicates the Albert Park circuit. 

Somehow the team clears you to race and you’re on cloud nine. The media and your fans can’t believe that you’ve made such a fast recovery. 

The Princess of Ferrari is back! 

Word Driver’s Champion Y/N Y/L/N ready to battle it out once again.

Forza Ferrari!! Y/N is back! 

The Australian Grand Prix arrives before you know it and it’s amazing to be back. You’d missed the craziness and for a while you didn’t think you’d get to experience it again. You felt confident going into the weekend, but life was out to humble you, and oh boy did she. 

You thought you were in pain on the simulator, but being back in the actual car, actually racing, amplified that pain about a hundred times. Your leg screams at you everytime you press on the pedal and your wrist feels like it’s going to snap every time you take a corner. 

You end up placing P15. 

You try to power through, telling yourself you just have to get used to racing again, or figure out a new racing technique. You see the way the reserve driver looks at you in the garage, like he’s just waiting for you to call it quits so he can take your seat and you try to use that as motivation, but it’s no use. 

You last four races before you finally come to the depressing and heartbreaking realization that you’re done racing. The thing you’d dreamt about since you were a little girl was over. The thing you’d worked so hard for, sacrificed so much for, defied barriers for– it was over.

You were in your prime and if you hadn’t crashed back in Brazil who knows what you could have accomplished in your career. Your body had been telling you, screaming at you every race weekend to stop and you’d been ignoring it for as long as you could, but the lasting side effects are getting worse and if you want to be able to walk in thirty years you know you’ve got to stop. 

So you don’t go out with a bang, it’s more of a whisper. Your performance the past four races had quietly let people know that this was probably the end. The news breaks on the following Tuesday after the Bahrain GP and as you scroll through the comments on the post from the F1 Instagram page you can’t stop the tears that fall.

This announcement should have happened when you were old and had multiple championships under your belt, not when you were young and at the top of your game, or you guess you should say were at the top of your game. 

Such a shame, saw it coming after that P15 in Australia, but she was a hell of a driver.

Good on her for attempting to come back. I hope she still works with racing in the future.

Always our Princess of Ferrari ❤️

You lock your phone and toss it on the bed beside you– who will you be without racing?

tag list: @mywritersmind @lanf1an

[thewertsearch]

ARADIA: karkat i dont know if anyone cares about formal ranks like that anymore ARADIA: or if anyone ever did! ARADIA: but for what its worth i suggest that from now on you all listen closely to the advice of our human guests

Rose I completely agree with - but Dave? I don't know if he's really the leader type.

I guess he does share a Class with Karkat, who was fairly effective as a leader, albeit a little unorthodox. Perhaps Dave has the same potential, and we just haven't seen it yet.

ARADIA: tactically speaking a knight of time and a seer of light is a nearly unbeatable combination

Well, if this isn't a fucking rabbit hole of a line. As always, new Title exposition is delivered in the most cryptic manner imaginable - but it still might be possible to glean some new insight from this information.

We know that Rose is some sort of clairvoyant. We've never been told anything about what Knights do, but we have just learned that Dave's powers work extremely well in combination with Rose's. What sort of role would synergize this well with a Seer of Light?

Well, since Rose provides information, then maybe Dave's role is to turn that information into a plan of action, converting raw data into something that's tactically useful. Such an interpretation certainly fits Karkat, a fellow Knight - but I don't know if it fits Dave.

ARADIA: the knight of time is not necessarily the tactician

Oh.

Never mind, then.

ARADIA: he is a powerful warrior class which exploits the flow of time as a weapon

...do mine eyes deceive me? Is a Homestuck character just straight-up explaining a Class to us, with zero ambiguity?

I never thought I'd see the day - but neither will I be looking a gift horse in the mouth. Let's analyze.

Knights weaponize their Aspect.

Dave, the Knight of Time, fights with a time-shifting sword, exploiting his own temporal duplicates to overwhelm and outnumber his opponents. He is, in fact, the only member of his team to wield his Aspect in a fight - at least, prior to John's ascension - and now we know why. In the hands of a Knight, an Aspect is a sword.

Weaponizing time doesn't have to mean 'using it in combat', either. When Terezi attacked the kids' timeline, Dave 'fought back' with his time machines, sending himself into the past to undo the damage she'd done. He's actively adversarial towards Terezi while doing this; it really does feel like he's fighting her, rather than merely resolving a problem she's caused.

Karkat, then, weaponizes Blood - and I think I'm beginning to understand what that means.

I initially pegged Blood as the aspect of genetics, since Karkat's a geneticist, and people who share DNA are said to be 'blood relatives'. Karkat doesn't really 'weaponize' genetics, but there is a concept he's closely tied to - one that I do think he's been wielding like a sword.

Leadership.

Through sheer force of belligerence, Karkat assembled twelve highly dangerous teenagers into a single, relatively cohesive unit. Vriska was pretty sure that without their glorious leader, the trolls would have devolved into infighting - which she, being Vriska, viewed as a good outcome. Classic.

Karkat saved these trolls - and he did it by turning them into a ruthless force of destruction, with him at the helm. This is the essence of Blood - its meaning is in the general area of leadership, teamwork, and people skills.

After all, the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.

ARADIA: the seer class knows her aspect comprehensively ARADIA: as a knower of all fortune she can see the circuitous path that will lead to the most favorable outcome for everyone

She can? Jesus, that sounds much, much more powerful than my own interpretation of her powers. It almost sounds like...

TEREZI: TH4T SOUNDS 4 LOT MOR3 US3FUL TH4N MY S33R POW3RS >:[ ROSE: Illumination of the road to victory for all is an asset considerably different from command over the outcomes of decisions made by individuals.

THE ROAD TO WHAT?

[xavistarlight]

I’ll watch your life in pictures, like I used to watch you sleep.

Synopsis: Caleb goes through your social media account after the explosion

cw : talks of grief, angst, mc still thinks Caleb died in the explosion.

Caleb sat on the couch in his bleak and bland sky haven apartment, scrolling through his phone.

Specifically through your moments account.

Filled with pictures of you and your friends, your smile so bright. The same bright smile you’d give him when he would come and visit.

He scrolled down just a bit farther to look at your replies

“ hey why would you post this, im mid blink?!? You’re getting blocked” he giggled at your reply

“still sassy as ever” he said out loud shaking his head.

That’s when he’d accidentally clicked the button taking him to your private messages.

His heart broke little by little seeing your texts

“Caleb guess what I did today, I made braised chicken wings! Not as good as yours tho but it’s a start.. I wish you were here.”

“earlier today there was a thunderstorm, I was so scared but what terrified me even more than the storm itself is when I remembered you’d never be here to soothe me through it again”

“ look at what I found in my camera roll today”

“1 attachment sent”

“ it’s when we were little and you scraped your knee trying to get my doll from under the porch, look at my amazing first aid skills! Sometimes I like to think if I’d have been the doctor that day you’d still be here, my friends would tell me not to joke about that but you would’ve thought it was funny”

“I can’t believe I’ll miss you longer than I knew you”

“some days my grief overwhelms me to the point I find it hard to do anything, but i try to remember what you told me when our goldfish died when we were little, grief is just love that has no place to go. in that case I have so much love for you Caleb it consumes me, it consumes my every being”

Caleb was in tears, it was taking everything in his power not to call you and let you know he was still here your Caleb was still here, the thing he had done for your own good was eating you alive. But he had to remind himself that it wouldn’t always one day he would feel you forget him like he used to feel you breathe.

He couldn’t see you hurt like this anymore dialing a number on his phone.

“send the statement” he said in a monotone voice.

Maybe if it was official you’d get over him, he needed you to get over him, he needed you to forget him no matter how much it hurt him he needed you to be safe.

Ping

You receive a message as your writing out your nightly text to Caleb stopping to check the message out.

Dear Ms.

We regret to inform you that, per the verification process conducted by Linkon City Government, Josephine and Caleb have been officially recorded as deceased due to an accident. We kindly request you to bring your valid identification to Linkon City Hall to complete the necessary record adjustments and collect the death certificates.

Thank you for your understanding and cooperation.

Linkon City Hall

Your eyes well up in tears, this was it, it was final they’re gone, you go back to your message to Caleb deleting it completely breaking down in tears.

Caleb sees the three dots showing you were typing slowly fade off as he closes out of the app he’s met with his screen saver.

A picture of you asleep on the couch.

He would now watch your life in pictures like he used to watch you sleep.

Taglist🏷️: @calistaxoxo24 @mariojins

@nezuswritingdesk @swaggyv1v1 @nariilovesdrarry @wintereve3 @deejse @lucidreamsea @monsochhichi @sxkura-blxssxm @princessofenkanomiya @yeompei @lady-wallace @weepingangel2222 @eolivy

[dammit-tazmuir]

C— kept saying, Pick one. Are we more invested in proving this new plan is bullshit, or in saving you? I was like, It’s both, how can it not be both. C— was like, It can’t be both. Pick one and stick to it. Decide what you give a fuck about.

Spoiler alert, it wasn't both.

But ya know. I'm sure it'll be both this time. The faceless oppression of global capitalism and collective exploitation of billions over the course of centuries was bad and all, I guess, but like, John also hurt people who didn't deserve it, and more importantly, people we the audience personally like, which is way worse than people we don't know.

Obviously we won't hurt anyone who doesn't deserve it and are objectively qualified to decide that. Quests for vengeance never have collateral damage if you're morally pure, and John's problem is just that he always sucked. He probably lied about his whole backstory and wasted a quarter of a book, I'm sure Tamsyn would do that to us. Alecto probably, uh, played eeny meeny miney moe or something, she definitely never had a real reason to choose him.

Also sure there's very little misogyny in the empire but sometimes he's dismissive toward Mercy (far more condescending and meaner to everyone including other women, but when she does it she's a girlboss) and he patronizes the babies (definitely because they're women, not because they're babies) so obviously he's just super sexist. Ignore his relationship with his own masculinity, his childhood love for dolls and hatred for older men, his aversion to casting himself as "Father" despite all the Catholicism. Ignore that his original inner circle minus puppets consisted of his childhood bestie, his boyfriend, his boyfriend's inseparable baby brother, his girlfriend, and four other women and no other men. Also being polyamorous definitely means he's running a gross sex cult, that claim isn't anyone's biases showing at all, it's not like it took his partners 500 years to seduce him. Also ignore any and all historical allegations against any of the schools he's attended, I'm sure those details were arbitrary and being in the first paragraph of a book isn't important. It's not like he vents often but avoids directly saying anything that makes him sound weak or vulnerable. And we all know that the world consists only of blameless victims and malicious abusers. So I'm sure he's just power-hungry and manipulative for funsies and we totally just need to murder him already.

Hi can you tell I'm tired.

Anyway yeah it wasn't "both" for him and it would really suck and undermine the entire point if it was magically both now for us.

Obviously he did a lot of shit wrong, and I'm not even saying there's no satisfying way he could be punished or even die, but our girlies just storming the palace and assassinating him ain't it.

Tamsyn Muir: “Here's a series about how a man's vindictiveness dooms the universe, all because his trauma left him incapable of believing in forgiveness over vengeance. As contrast, the protag in the first book reflects something closer to divinity by extending her abuser grace so that she can repent and change, and the protag of the third book begs her brother to not flatten a planet in revenge after having experienced forgiveness.”

too many TLT fans: “yass can't wait for my girlies to kill God!!!”

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Tower Chaos

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> You have had feelings for Bucky for a long time. Yelena finally questions you about it.

Disclaimer: Spoilers for Thunderbolts. Kinda Tower fanfic, reader helps Bucky when he's hurt, established relation/friendships with characters, YelenaBob pairing, found family chaos, yelling in Russian, mentions of injuries and cuts, happy ending. Not Proof Read.

You sighed. They never had your favourite ice cream flavour. You’d think being a regular customer, who regularly asks for your regular favourite ice cream, they would keep it stocked. 

But no. So, reaching for your second favourite, you threw it into your basket and continued shopping. 

Five minutes later, you were being handed a plain plastic bag and your change. 

“Have a nice night,” you called as you left the store. 

Usually, you’d have your headphones in, playing whatever playlist Joaquin had mashed together from your work laptop before you could stop him. Some songs were good, others not so much. 

But since they’d died before you’d stepped a foot out of your apartment, you’d left them behind. 

The emergency ice cream run was too important. 

However, it was as you were walking back to your apartment you started to hear noises. Grunting, mostly. And it was one you seemed to recognise. 

Down the alleyway, Bucky tried to catch his breath. All he’d tried to do was help, but instead he’d gotten the crap beat out of him. Just because he was a super soldier didn’t mean he didn’t bleed. 

Yet, as his body slumped to the floor, he saw a shadow cast over him. And just for a moment, he accepted what might come next. A death? A kidnapping? A ransom note? More beatings?

That was when he got a shock to his chest. 

“Come on,” you sighed, hoisting him up. “Suppose you’re coming with me.”

“Y/n?”

Bucky had to be dreaming. Was he already dead? 

“Well done. I see the old-man eyesight hasn’t kicked in yet.”

Bucky just grunted and tried his best to walk on his own, inevitably leaning on you for support. 

Once you’d gotten him through the door to your apartment, you helped him onto the sofa. 

“Don’t go anywhere.”

As Bucky held his side, trying to make himself a little more comfortable in his seat, you walked behind him and towards the kitchen. 

Pulling the freezer door open, you placed the plastic bag from the store inside and shut it in. you moved across the kitchen and grabbed your first aid kit from under the sink and eventually found yourself kneeling on the floor besides Bucky’s legs. 

“How did you find me?” Bucky asked you as you ripped some packaging open and shook the ice pack. 

You pressed it into his side. “I was getting supplies.”

“Medical?”

“Ice cream,” you told him. He held onto the pack as you moved back to the kit to grab something else. “So, do you wanna tell me what happened? Or am I gonna have to guess?”

“I didn’t plan on it.”

“Nobody plans on getting hurt, Bucky.” 

He looked at you, but you didn’t look at him. Your focus remained on the cut on his arm as you cleaned it. 

“Why didn’t you just come to me?” You asked him, eventually. He’d gotten hurt a few hours before, but thought he could walk it off. 

Bucky’s voice was quiet when he spoke. “Didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

For a moment, your eyes flicked to his face before going back to the second cut you were gluing shut. “We had a fight, Bucky. Doesn’t mean I want to see you get hurt.”

Bucky sighed a little before he looked around your apartment. There seemed to be more stuff on your shelves than usual. Books and pictures that were usually kept in your office at the Compound. 

“Why aren’t you staying with Sam and the others?”

You were avoiding his gaze; he knew that much. “We’re, uh, we’re not really talking right now.”

The small bottle rattled against the other items in your kit as you threw it inside. Bucky leaned forward as you sat back on your heels. 

He just looked worried and concerned. “Why?”

You gave a short sigh. “Because I stuck up for you, and now he thinks I’ve chosen a side. There are no sides to this, Buck. You, Yelena, and the others. You saved people that day. That deserves to be recognised. But none of you even had a choice.”

It felt like the battle had been going on forever. When the woman you’d come to know as ‘Val’ had introduced the world to ‘The New Avengers’, you’d taken one look at their faces on the screen. 

They hadn’t been expecting it. 

And your thoughts were confirmed as much when you called Bucky a few hours later to check in on him and the others. 

However, Sam hadn’t been as composed. He’d been asked by the President himself to start up a new team of Avengers. And, somehow, six people the country had seen as enemies of the State were suddenly being introduced to the world as the very people who should be trusted with civilian lives. 

The rift had started immediately. 

And you’d been stuck in between ever since. 

“Again,” Bucky added, solemnly. 

Even before you’d met Bucky, you already knew enough of his past to know not much of who he was in the modern world had been consensual. 

You reached out and squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry Sam doesn’t see that. But he will.”

Bucky nodded for a moment, squeezing back. “I know. Do you…want to come and stay with us for a while? I know Yelena misses you.”

You smiled, if a little sadly, for a moment. Yelena had been your best friend – once she stopped trying to kill Clint. 

And for a moment, you nodded your head. Only to then shake it. “It’s probably best that I don’t. But I wouldn’t mind coming to dinner once in a while.”

Bucky smiled a soft smile. He missed you, too. “We’d like that.”

Three days later, you arrived inside the Tower. 

It was mostly open plan, with grey, black and gold. Every once in a while, there was a hint of red. 

Surprisingly, you’d been let through immediately. 

Apparently, your name was on the security list. 

And so began the steady elevator climb to the top penthouse. 

Once the doors pinged open, you stepped out. And for a while, no one was there. You knew you were early, but an hour before, something in your gut told you they needed your help. 

“Hi,” a soft voice said somewhere beside you. 

Eight feet from where you were standing was Bob; dressed in a purple sweater and a pair of jeans. 

“Hi. I-I know I’m early but-”

That was when swear words erupted from the direction of the kitchen. Three pan crashes and two seconds later, Bucky emerged from the kitchen. John was following behind him as Alexei yelled something in Russian. 

Bucky visibly relaxed. “Hey, you’re here.”

Before you could say anything, someone called your name from behind you. 

Yelena was across the room, her Guinea Pig in her hands. For a moment, she’d stopped. Then she was rushing. Carefully placing him in his pen, Yelena dusted off her hands and ran towards you before hugging you, tightly. 

You smiled and hugged her back. 

Then she moved back, keeping her hands on you. “You’re early,” she said, a little surprised. 

You looked around at the others. “I know-”

“Some might say it’s rude to be early.”

You gave a subtle glare to John. “But something told me you might need my help.”

You looked at Bucky and despite his smile and his nod, he seemed…tired. If a little scared. 

“You couldn’t be more right.”

From having both hands on his hips, he reached out and took yours. Once you were standing beside him in the kitchen, you realised why. 

“Oh.”

Two pots were overflowing with some kind of chilli…soup…mix. One pan had been burnt with, what you assumed was meant to be mashed potato and the rest…

“Oh my god,” Yelena practically threw her words up. “Dad!”

Ava appeared beside you. “We all drew straws for who got to cook tonight. Alexei won and nearly burnt our home down. Is that wine?”

You wondered what she meant until you realised you were still holding the bottle you brought. “Oh, yeah. Thought we could drink it with dinner.”

Your other hand was still in Bucky’s. 

“We don’t usually let him cook because of, well, this.” Bucky breathed. 

As Yelena moved across the kitchen, yelling at her dad and almost chasing him out of the kitchen whilst yelling in Russian, John leaned in. 

“Can any of this be salvaged?”

“Should it be salvaged?” Bob asked, standing on the other side of you.

You remained quiet for a few minutes. Both because you were still registering the mess of the kitchen, but also because a plan was being drawn up in your head. 

“Where’s your storage cupboard?”

Bucky nodded to the otherside of the kitchen. “Through there.”

“Come with me.”

Pulling him with you, you both managed to avoid slipping on whatever red-oil monstrosity was spilling onto the floor. On the way past, Bucky turned the heat down before the entire thing blew up. 

“What are we looking for?”

You quickly gave Bucky a list as you reached and grabbed things. As he helped you, you popped your head back out into the kitchen. 

“How quickly do you think you two can clean this up?”

John pointed at himself. “Us?”

“Yes, you. And Bob.”

“But- this is not a two man job.”

“Then ask Yelena and Ava for help.”

John groaned as you disappeared back into the storage space with Bucky. 

Twenty minutes later, Alexei was apologising to you for not correctly making his…whatever he called it, dish properly. 

“You’re forgiven, Alexei.”

“Thank you.”

What followed was an evening of…fun. For the first time in a long time, you saw each of them smile. Bucky, Yelena…hell, even John. 

Yelena gave a small gasp. “You should stay for a movie. You can stay right?”

You hadn’t answered before she’d answered for you. “You’re staying. I’ll go and get Bob. It’s his turn to pick the movie.”

You chuckled softly as you watched Yelena run away and down the hall. You’d all long since finished your dinner. Bob had offered to wash up, but when Yelena had cut in and said Bucky had already volunteered, he’d walked away. 

“She’s right, though.” Bucky said to you, a short moment after she left. “You could stay.”

You nodded, but once again, shook your head. As much as your heart wanted to stay, your head wouldn’t let you. 

“I know. But I don’t…I don’t want the others thinking…”

For a moment, Bucky met your gaze. Then he lowered his head before he transferred the freshly clean plate onto the drying rack. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”

Two hours later, you were deadly asleep as you rested against Bucky. 

Within twenty minutes of the movie coming on, the familiar soundtrack and feeling of Bucky beside you comforted you more than you knew you needed. You didn’t even try to fight it. You closed your eyes and leaned against him. 

The next time you woke up, it was feeling his arms slip away from underneath your body. 

“Where are you going?”

“I’m gonna stay on the sofa,” Bucky whispered in a low voice. From the way his scent was enveloping your senses, you could only assume you’d been placed in his bed. 

You pouted a little, your eyebrows furrowing at the thought. “No, that’s…stupid. This is big enough for both of us. Come to bed.”

“Y/n-”

“Just come to bed. It’s not like we haven’t slept in the same bed before.”

It didn’t take much more convincing before Bucky was laying in bed beside you. Almost immediately, you moved closer to him under the covers until you’d placed his arm around you. 

Bucky chuckled quietly. “Thought you said it was big enough for the both of us.”

“Shut up.”

Chuckling once more, Bucky fixed the bedding over both of you before leaning closer to you. There was no denying he got a better night’s sleep when he was lying beside you. 

It was somewhere in semi darkness your phone started to ring, loudly. 

With a groan, you turned over to search for your phone. Somewhere in the darkness, Bucky slurred the direction where he’d put your phone. 

Reaching across to one of the night stands, you finally found your phone and answered before looking at the caller ID. 

“Hello?” 

“Are you okay? Joauqin said he tried texting but you didn’t answer.” Sam started. “I’ve found an old box in the storage room. Finally started clearing this place out-”

From just above you, Bucky mumbled, “Everything okay?”

You nodded, still tired. “It’s just-”

“Are you with Bucky?”

The air felt heavy as he asked. “Sam-”

The shift in his tone was instantaneous. “No, I see how it is. Look, I’ll let Joaquin know you’re busy.” And then, “Maybe it’s best you don’t come back to the Compound for a while.”

You tried to cut in but by the sounds of it, his mind was already made up. And if, without letting you explain, or knowing that you weren’t taking sides, he’d become certain in his decision…

All you said was, “Okay.”

As Sam hung up, you locked your phone; the click echoed around the room. 

“Do you need to go?” Bucky asked, quietly. His arm was still around you. 

“No,” you laid back down with Bucky. “No.”

 Three weeks later, you decided to head to the Compound. As much as you’d ‘moved’ out, some of your stuff was still there. As you packed the last box into your car, you turned back and looked at the outhouse down the road. 

Sam was still there. You knew he was; boxes were still being shuffled in and out. 

Tearing open another dusty box filled with crap, Sam looked up to see you walking in his direction. 

“What the hell are you doing here?”

You stopped just short of the door. “Came to see you.”

The cold was starting to settle in across New York and you’d dressed for it. Boots, jeans, hoodie under your jacket. 

“Thought you’d be with the rest of your team.”

“They are my team,” you agreed before hearing Sam give a humming laugh as if to say, “I knew it. You did pick a side.”. “But so are you, Sam.” 

You sighed, continuing to talk. “You’re all my family. They’re yours, too, Sam. Or are you gonna shut them out, as well?”

Sam looked up. “I’m not shutting them out.”

“You’re shutting everyone out,” you argued. “They didn’t have a choice, Sam.”

Pulling something from the box to move it towards the mini trash skip, he said, “They stayed. That was their choice.”

Again, you sighed. You averted your eyes from him for a moment to look around the outhouse. He was almost done. It was just the final unit of boxes. 

Sam moved back over to the box. “Look, I appreciate you coming here. But I meant it when I said it’s best you don’t come round here.”

“Sam.” you looked at him. 

“I get we’re all family, and nothing can truly change that. But…” Sam sighed. “As much as you love us all, you made your decision.”

You felt fire in your belly. “Hey, do not put this on me. That is not fair.”

“Do you love him?”

The fire got hotter. 

“That’s got nothing to do with this-”

“Do you love him?” Sam repeated, practically spelling out each word. 

“Yes,” you answered before you could think. “But that doesn’t change-”

“It does. You’re too emotionally involved-”

“Emotionally involved!? I get you can be a pain in my ass some days, Samuel. But being an actual ass has never been in your true nature. Deep down you know Bucky didn’t have a choice. Neither did Yelena, or Ava or the rest of their team. And once you’ve finally pulled your head from your ass, maybe you’ll just be able to admit that. This is not on them, and it most certainly is not on me.”

Sam could see the fury in your eyes. He could see the fire in your chest and the hurt in your heart. And he wished he could take it all back. 

He’d been there to see you and Bucky grow feelings for each other. He’d been there to witness you both actively avoiding feelings because you both thought it was dangerous. 

It was in that garage he realised, this time, he’d been the one in the wrong. 

Of course you loved Bucky. But one thing you’d never done is go with your emotions when it came to something on this level. 

But that still didn’t change the rift between him and Bucky. He doubted that it would. 

“Y/n- I didn’t mean-”

“Yes, you did.” Your gaze was fixed on Sam. “And one day I’ll forgive you for being an ass, but right now…” 

Part of you caved and you looked away. You rarely cried, but when you were angry and frustrated…your body betrayed you. 

You managed to hold it in as you looked back at him. “Maybe you were right about me coming here. I’m gonna go.”

“Y/n-”

“Bye, Sam.”

Bucky didn’t see you until two days later. And you were still angry from your talk with Sam. 

As he walked into the Tower, Bob lifted his head from his milkshake and book. “Y/n’s in the kitchen.”

He dropped his bag by the sofa. “She’s here?”

Bob nodded. “She brought food.” 

He held up his milkshake before pointing towards the cup holders on the table. “She got you one, too.”

Picking his cup up on the way, he walked towards the kitchen, already having an idea of the image that was about to greet him. He could smell the lemon blondies from the living room. 

The kitchen was mostly clean, which was his first sign. Whenever you did bake, the kitchen tended to be a wonderfully organised yet flour-sprinkled chaos. 

When you were pissed, it was almost as neat as a pin. 

His second sign was that it was quiet. 

Whenever you were baking, there tended to be music or a show in the background. That was if you weren’t already on the phone to someone – specifically, Yelena. 

His third sign was the amount of baking you’d done. Lemon blondies, blueberry muffins, chocolate cupcakes, frosting, flapjacks, cornflake cakes, raspberry and vanilla cakes, confetti cakes, protein muffins and many others. They were all stacked and piled in tupperware cases on one of the side counters, if they weren’t still in their pans cooling down. 

His fourth sign was that you didn’t move, didn’t even look up, when he walked inside. You were fully focused on what you were doing. 

He approached you slowly in the deep silence. “Not good?”

You shook your head, your focus on the batter pouring from the stand mixer into the rectangular cake tin. “Not good.”

As you put it down, Bucky stepped behind you and opened up the oven door. Slotting it inside, he closed the door as you set the timer. 

Bucky watched you for a few moments as you took the cake battered bowl to the sink, brought over another one filled with icing and started dishing them out into different food colouring segments. 

As he leaned against the counter you were working on, Bucky’s gaze flickered over your face. 

He’d known you for so long, he’d easily seen every emotion come across your face. Anger, love, fear, joy, anxiety, embarrassment, confusion, rage, numbness, laughter, and many more. 

A lot of them, he’d seen through your eyes. 

“Have you been crying?” Bucky asked the question, but he already knew the answer. 

He was certain of the answer, even more so, when you didn’t look at him or answer him. So, with a gentle finger under your chin, he tilted your head to look at him. “Hey.”

His voice was soft. Soft enough to break the dam you’d been holding in place. 

You didn’t have to say anything. You rarely had to say anything to Bucky. Without hesitating, Bucky took you by the shoulder before holding you into him. Immediately, your arms wrapped around him. It was hard to breathe evenly when you were trying to keep your tears at bay. 

“I might take you up on that offer,” you mumbled into his blue henley. “If it’s not too late.”

Bucky smiled, briefly. His hand stroked down the back of your hair before cupping your head. “There were no limitations.”

A bubble of slight laughter rose up your throat. But you just held onto him tighter. 

“This is gonna be so cool,” Yelena said as she helped you carry your stuff towards your room. “We finally won’t be outnumbered. We can watch movies- Oh, I’ve already added you to the rota. Your choice is after John’s. A lot of his are military movies which are boring-”

Yelena continued to tell you all about her plans as she helped you move into your room. About her and Ava’s ‘girl’ days. Their on going prank on John, changing a lot of his dark coloured items to bright neon pink; for example, his dark navy towel to a bright neon pink. Same with his face clothes and gym shower bottles. 

Both she and Ava warned you about Alexei’s hoarding room; it was mostly filled with memorabilia of the Thunderbolts and ‘New Avengers’. Apparently someone on Etsy had gotten wind of their original title and made t-shirts. 

“Oh, the room next door to that one is filled with everything on Yelena.”

You gasped. “Please tell me there’s baby pictures.”

“Pictures?” Ava asked. “Please, there are projector wheels full.”

You looked at Yelena. “Oh, I have to see them.”

“No, you don’t.”

Ava leaned into you. “I’ll get them for you.”

“You know, sometimes I hate the fact you can walk through walls.”

Ava just smiled. 

It didn’t take long to get used to living with them. Often Bob joined ‘girls night’ which eventually developed into ‘team’ night when Alexei and John got bored. Games night was every Friday. Bob stayed home most of the day, keeping an eye on reports coming in. 

On your days off, you’d help him. A lot of the time, you’d both just talk away until the others came home. You’d even taught him how to bake, which had eventually turned into a baking lesson for a lot of the team considering they’d never really had those moments to learn out of simple enjoyment. 

Meanwhile, you and Bucky…were you and Bucky. 

And it didn’t take any of their specialist training to notice.

To notice the way Bucky always stood close to you, or how your eyes flicked to each other when the other wasn’t looking. More so if they were. Or how you both seemed to have an unspoken language between each other, already knowing what the other needs. 

It didn’t take any of their specialist training to notice the way you looked at each other, or how you interacted. How Bucky’s hand always ghosted over your hip or led you by your lower back. You were also the only one Bucky wasn’t afraid to…touch. To hold hands, or to hug. He’d never been like that with anyone. 

Yelena knew, especially. She’d heard stories from her sister. 

“Do you think we should do something?”

“What was that film? The one with the single twin? Lainey…Linda…no, that’s not it.”

Yelena sat up straight and sighed. “We watched it last night. The Parent Trap. And it’s Lindsey Lohan.”

“Yes. That one. Why don’t we…just do that?”

Ava sat up. “You really think tricking them onto a boat is going to work?”

Alexei shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be a boat. It could be a closet, or a training room or-”

“We’re not locking them in anywhere.” Yelena told them all. “They’re grown adults.”

“Do you think they’ve always been like that?” 

“They were when I first met them,” John said as he transferred food from the stove onto each plate. “He would have died protecting her. And she would have killed him for doing so. They hadn’t even known each other very long from what I knew.”

“So it can’t be that long before something happens, right?” Ava asked. “I mean, she slept in his bed that night she came here for dinner.”

“But that could have been a fluke,” Bob pointed out. “The guest rooms, and her room, weren't finished yet.”

Yelena thought for a moment. “Okay. We need an agreement. If things don’t start naturally, we give them a little push. Nothing big, just…maybe show them the right direction.”

They all agreed. 

But six months later, they were sick of the subtle differences they’d all been making. Name dropping, schedule changes, lighting changes, stories. Ava was the first to make the big leap from subtle to not-so-much when she arranged a blind date for you. 

The annoyance from Bucky had been clear from the moment she phased through the front door. 

However, despite being the one to draw up the agreement, Yelena was the one to truly break it. 

“Do you like Bucky?”

She’s marched into your room, dressed in her pajamas, holding onto her guinea pig. Although the question had been a surprise, Yelena bursting into your room at nine at night only to flop down on your bed in front of you was not. 

“I’m sorry?”

“Do you like him?” Yelena paused to reframe the question. “Okay, do you have romantic feelings for him?”

You stuttered, “For Bucky?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

She didn’t give you time to answer before explaining. “Because I think you do and since you’re my best friend, I think, legally, I should know.”

“Yelena-”

“I can keep a secret, I promise,” she sat up and talked to her pet. “You know I can. Well, I tell you my secrets but we live with Ava. She knows everybody’s secrets.”

Yelena finally looked back at you. “So?”

So? 

So…the answer was yes. You had done for a while. Probably since you met him, if you were being completely honest; though you didn’t recognise them to be romantic then. Just feelings. 

Mainly the feeling that you wanted him to be safe, and to be free. 

A man willing to lay his life down for his country, only to lose something worse than that to a different cause; one he never chose, one he never consented to. Only to be brought back and be blamed for the act forced on him despite fighting against deadly torture for over twenty years. 

That was a man that needed someone in his corner. 

“Yelena.” Just from the tone of your voice told her everything she needed to know. 

“I knew it. I knew it.” She smiled to herself before repeating herself to her pet. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You shrugged, putting down your legal pad. “What was there to tell?”

Yelena pretended to think, “Uh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that I’m your best friend and I should know who my brother in law is going to be. Or that he’s the reason every date I’ve sent you on has never worked out. Or-”

You reached out for her. “Okay, okay. That’s enough.”

“Y/n, why don’t you tell him?”

You looked away for a split second. “We…have an agreement. Kinda. We’ve never spoken about it but, we know.”

“Know what?”

“That it’s too dangerous.”

Her brows furrowed. “Dangerous? Because…it’s so electric you might blow a spark?”

You ran your tongue over your lips. “No, it’s…how do I put this? When he worked together…there was a chance of things going wrong because we wouldn’t be thinking. Neither of us were willing to risk putting people in danger because neither of us could focus properly.”

“Well, that’s…”

“Yeah.”

“Stupid.” Yelena finished. “That’s really stupid. I suppose you two being in love, I have to give you some slack. And the sentiment. That is very sweet. But also incredibly stupid.”

You just looked at her, dumbfounded. 

“You like each other. If someone is going to get hurt, then they get hurt. It’s a part of the job. Just because you work together doesn’t mean people will get hurt because of it. The only people who you’re hurting are yourselves. And us, but that’s for another time. You should tell him.”

“Lena-”

“No. You should tell him. And he should tell you. I’m sick of seeing you two act like lovestick cowards.”

You both kept her frustrated for another two months. 

You’d been sitting with Bob for most of the day. Around mid-day, you’d both left the Tower to go and get some food. But it was when you were standing in the kitchen, Bob telling you about his ideas for Yelena’s birthday, that a warning flashed around the room. 

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t know.”

Then you heard the noises. 

Both you and Bob took one look at each other before heading out back into the living space. “Guys?!”

Through the elevator doors, Yelena hobbled through with Bucky by her side. They all looked like hell. 

“What the hell happened?”

Ava and Alexei took the semi-conscious Bucky from Yelena and rushed him down the hallway. Yelena tried her best to keep your focus on her. “Hey, it’s okay. He’s gonna be okay.”

“What the hell happened, Yelena?”

Beside you, Bob’s focus remained on the blonde Russian. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, knowingly taking Bob’s hand in her other one. “We ran into a few hurdles.”

“I thought this was meant to be a search and rescue.”

“It was,” she nodded. “But apparently Sam and the others also got wind of it. They’ve taken some bruises home, too.” Yelena was quick to add her next sentence. “Not from us. Well, mostly not from us. The search and rescue was tied to a hostage situation.”

“So,” your head kept turning to the hallway Bucky had been taken down. “So what-”

“A kinetic energy blast.”

Yelena saw the fire in your eyes. “Sam- Sam did this?”

Yelena shook her head, then nodded. “No. Well, kinda. But it was- Bucky was helping him. Sam thought he was clear of the blast. So did we.”

“I need to see him.”

Yelena let you go and Bob stepped into your place. “Yelena,” his finger traced over her brow. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m okay, Bob. I’m okay.” Yelena took his other hand in hers before resting her head against his. Then she hugged him. 

Meanwhile, you ran down the hall and into the medical wing where Ava and Alexei had Bucky. He seemed a little more awake. 

“I’m okay-” 

You hugged him immediately. Somewhere behind you, Alexei made a soft noise and Ava hit his gut. 

“Wilson said he’d be sending a medical officer over.”

“I don’t need one-”

“Yes you do,” you cut in before looking at Ava. “Yes, he does. Where are the medical supplies?”

“Doll, if you can fix me-”

“I still want someone checking you over.”

As Bucky agreed and the others left, John brought you the medical kits and left you and Bucky to it. 

“He didn’t mean it, Y/n.”

You swallowed. “I know. Yelena said.”

“Look at me?”

You eventually stopped cleaning one of his cuts to look at him. He smiled for a moment. “I’m okay. We both know I’ve been through worse.”

You tilted your head. Too soon. 

“They were helping us, and we were helping them. It’s not much but it’s a start. Maybe I can call him. He might actually pick-”

Bucky’s talking was cut off by your lips crashing into his. The only thought going around in your head as he was talking was that you could have lost him. Sam and the others might not have been there, Bucky and the others could have been outnumbered, and you might never have seen him again. 

Yelena was right. The only people you were hurting were yourselves. 

Once Bucky had come out of his trance, he looked at you, his fingers absentmindedly running through the ends of your hair. “What was that for?”

“I don’t want to ignore us anymore.”

“What made you change-”

“I could have lost you,” you spat the truth out. “And I don’t want to lose you and not have you with me in the first place. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Bucky admitted. Then a glint came across his eyes. “I should get hurt more often.”

“Absolutely not.”

Bucky chuckled before cupping his hand against your head. “So…we’re not ignoring it anymore?”

You shook your head. “Nope.”

“Good.” 

Pulling you closer to him, he kissed you like he’d been dying to for years. 

[qwordavoider]

I present to you 650 words of the beginning of my take on Buck transferring to the 122 under Sal. It'll eventually lead to a tevan reunion, but I want to do it from Ravi and Buck's pov to switch it up. I will also be adding it to the make me write that I have going right now. So feel free to request more of the 122 transfer fic 🚒 and enjoy Ravi's pov to start off.

-

“Hey Buck,” Ravi greets as he walks into the locker room at the start of shift. He expects to get the typical, “Morning Rav,” from him. Instead he finds Buck staring blankly at the locker in front of him. Ravi can’t help but notice that it’s a little emptier than the last shift. 

“Buck?” he prompts again when there is no sign that Buck heard him. “You good?” Ravi asks.

Buck jumps and it’s clear that he was in his own world, but he nods in response to Ravi’s question and starts slowly getting ready for their shift. He had been like that a bit more lately. Ravi knew Buck was probably taking Bobby’s death hard, even if he didn’t necessarily see it most days. Buck was the one checking in with him the most and he really appreciated it, but he always brushed off Ravi’s offer to talk. The others didn’t seem worried, so he was assuming Buck was just grieving in his own way. 

The first time he became really worried was when Buck said he was transferring. He never thought the man who chased him with a chainsaw to make sure Ravi was worthy of taking over his spot, would ever willingly leave the 118. Ravi studied Buck out of the corner of his eye and now that he paid more attention, he could see the tension and exhaustion in his face and the way he held himself. He hadn’t taken the time to look beyond what Buck was telling him to see that he wasn’t doing well. 

He’s about to ask how he’s really doing when Buck whispers, “I’m still transferring.”

Ravi stills to think through the best way to respond. He had really thought that Chim’s speech had been enough to convince him to stay. It had been for Eddie and he had bought a house in Texas, so Ravi just assumed that Buck had pulled the transfer papers. Guess he was wrong. 

“You’re not gonna bring out the chainsaw on me again are you?” Ravi eventually asks, deciding to try and lighten the mood. 

Buck stares at him for a second before he catches on, cracking a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “Nah. You earned your spot here a long time ago Rav. No chainsaw required.”

“Are you sure this is what you want to do?” Ravi asks. 

“Yeah, I am.”

Ravi nods, that’s good enough for him. “Well I’m gonna miss you. Despite our rocky start I’ve learned a lot from you. But like you said to Hen, you gotta do what’s best for you. I admire you for that.”

Buck looks surprised that Ravi’s not fighting him on it. He can’t blame the guy. Seems like every time Buck decides to do something he’s either asking for advice from the team or they try and talk him out of it. He’s glad to see Buck doing something for himself. 

Since Buck doesn’t seem like he’s able to say anything right now, Ravi continues, “Is that why you’re slowly cleaning out your locker?”

Buck nods, “Today is my last shift.”

Wow, that’s quick. He doesn’t know why Buck hadn’t told anyone, so he asks, “Does Chim know?”

Chimney had taken over the role of captain for the last few shifts while the chief decided on whether or not it could be permanent. It seems like something the interim captain should know about. 

“I-”, Buck sighs, “I’m going to tell him right now. Just psyching myself up.”

Ravi nods, “Do you know where you’re going?” 

“A-shift at the 122, under Captain Deluca,” Buck replies.

Ravi thinks that name sounds familiar, but he’s not sure why because Tommy immediately comes to mind when he hears it. Weird. 

“Well, don’t be a stranger. If you need anything- well, not anything, I won’t steal a helicopter for you. But if you need a friend… I’m here,” Ravi offers, hoping that Buck sees it as the outstretched hand it is.

-

Part 2

[lieran03]

Raising Their Voice

Love and Deepspace Fanfic

The usual calm and soft men who never raise their voice suddenly did so in front of you, and that's only to protect you

Genre: fluff/slice of life Pairing: Sylus x fem!reader (usage of Kitten as nickname) Words: 1885 Warning: none!

Writing commission || Ko-fi || AO3 acc

Xavier's || Zayne's || Rafayel's || Caleb's

Based on THIS request

The offer came too suddenly. Although it was a normal thing for Sylus to bring his Kitten along while doing a business—bidding and entering fancy places—this invitation held something more important; a party for rich people and where they show off their belongings. For Sylus, instead of showing off his fortune, he decided to bring her along.

A satisfied smile can be seen on his face while he watches her trying on the dress he specially tailored with the best fabric he could find. Before she could say anything, Sylus had already given a lot of compliments, telling her how beautiful she is and how dazzling she is, to the point that no one at the party would outshine her.

“Don’t start with your words. You know that’s not true.”

“Is my Kitten being insecure tonight? Guess I haven’t poured my heart and love enough.” With his words, Sylus leaves a trail of kisses on her face, making sure that she knows just how much he loves her. “Are you ready to go, Kitten?”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want to make you late for the party.”

A soft scoff came from Sylus before he said, “What a funny way of thinking. That’s a no. You can take however much time needed, and you’re still not late to the party. They started too fast, and it’s not you who are late.”

Sylus has always had his ways to speak, charming her, and didn’t give her a chance to feel insecure about her looks or worry about anything else. With a smile on her face, she finally took Sylus' hands, walking side by side towards the party venue. With Sylus by her side, she couldn’t help but feel immune to anything,

No one would dare to do anything when she’s with Sylus.

Stares were all she got when walking side by side with Sylus, additionally, Sylus' hands wrapped around her shoulder, putting a protective defense to show she’s taken. Couldn’t help but be overwhelmed with the constant stares people gave her, she finally looked at Sylus, hoping for him to understand what she tried to imply. Instead of understanding her needs, Sylus only gives a light squeeze to her shoulder, his way of giving a reassuring comfort.

“If I were to leave you for a moment, you would be fine by yourself, right?” Sylus’ sudden question made her widen her eyes at him.

Why would he say something like that now?

There were a lot of things she wanted to say to Sylus, but there were none that came out of her lips. Every time she thought she was ready to say it, she always chickened out last minute, leaving Sylus in the dark. She just didn’t think Sylus had to know about her feelings at the moment. They were supposed to enjoy the night, especially since they rarely met.

“I won’t be too long, it will be over before you even know it. Or, are you against me being away from you, Kitten?” The tease that came from Sylus only made her frown deeper. Although he tries his best to make everything seem better, it only raises her anxiety. “Have something to tell me, Kitten?”

This time, worry etched into Sylus’ tone, trying his hardest to read into her and find out what worries her. When she still said nothing, Sylus decided to ruffle a bit of her hair, trying to get a reaction. If he makes a mess of her look, she probably would start yelling at him or scolding him for ruining her makeup.

“I just … didn’t like how I know no one here. That’s why.” It wasn’t a full lie, it was also not one hundred percent true. However, under Sylus' intense gaze, she couldn’t help but say anything. “You better be back in fifteen, more than that, you’re dead to me!”

A low chuckle can be heard from Sylus, understanding the worry inside of her. When she didn’t respond to his attempt before, he knew that he shouldn’t leave her for too long. With a short knowing look, Sylus pointed at someone inside the party with his head, telling her that the person was the one he would talk with.

"He has been eyeing me and you. I will make him know his place and stop staring at you. But what can I say? You’re too beautiful for people not to stare.”

“Just go now and be back fast.” Had enough of his teasing, she finally pushed Sylus’ body away from her.

Knowing where Sylus went, not too far, somehow reassured her, telling her that there’s nothing she needs to be worried about. Minutes pass by just like that, with her accompanied by the drink Sylus brings before, and her watching over her man has a serious talk, a smirk here and there while he talks, and sometimes, looking back at her and locking eyes.

Her short moment was cut off when some girls were walking to her side, surrounded her, and blocked her view of Sylus. The smile on their face made her feel a bit nauseous, screaming that these people didn’t have any good intentions toward her. Before she could tell the people in front of her to walk away or move, they had already spoken.

“You know, I think it’s enough already for looking at that man.”

“We know that everyone wanted to be with him, almost a lot of people have already tried to sleep with him. We tried too.”

“But, did you know that no one has ever been able to touch him? Also, when people try to say they have eyes on him, the other would fight you.”

“Don’t worry, Hon, we can help you get close to you. Maybe, he will sleep with you.”

“Huh?” The anger from before was long gone when she heard what the girls were trying to tell her. What do they mean they were trying to sleep with him? “No … that’s not … I came with him.”

“Oh, please, girl. I know what you feel, we are also trying our best to be able to be his plus one.”

More and more nonsense came from their lips, not even letting her speak or state her opinion. It wasn’t until their topic suddenly changed to something else, talking about how beautiful she is and how dazzling she was, that she could have just gotten any man to be with her, especially at a party like now.

Even now, she tries her best to tell that she has already come with someone. If they didn’t want to believe that she came with Sylus, then it’s better for her to at least make them realize she’s not alone. However, her mind couldn’t help but think about what they just said before. That she could have any man to sleep with her.

“I’m sorry, but I’m uncomfortable talking about this.” When the topic of her having to get someone’s number, a stranger, she decided to cut it off. “I have told you guys that I came with someone. Well, someone as dazzling as me must have a man with me, right? That’s why, stop pushing me with a stranger.”

“What? Did you just hear what she said? We were trying to be nice to you! How dare you talk like that to me!’

“You’re new here, right? I never saw you at to party like this, so you should have been grateful that someone was trying to make you less lonely. Did you realize that you look like a loner at this big party?”

“We will forgive you, but on one condition.”

“No … I didn’t need you guys to forgive me. I said what I said,” she replied with a frown, deeper than she ever made before. How to make them shut up at this point?

Instead of listening to her, the girls decided to point their fingers at the man who used to talk with Sylus—he was nowhere to be seen now—and said she should get closer to him. if she is able to get his number, they will let her go and not taint her name anywhere, or anyone. She was ready to say no and fight with them, and yet someone had already bet her to it.

“I will give her my number. That would be enough, right?” Upon knowing it was Sylus, relief filled her that she almost ran to his arms. As if knowing what she wanted, Sylus put his hand to her hips, holding her close to him. “Let me get to know you more.”

“Sy …?”

The girls couldn’t believe what they had just witnessed, trying to think of the most reasonable Sylus was by her side. Stammering, they were trying to explain the situation to Sylus, and the man somehow listened to their rambling till the end, hearing how they just wanted her, his Kitten, to get to know some men and sleep with them.

Sylus, who usually has control of everything, stares longer at their leader, trying to make sure what he heard just now wasn’t wrong. Still with his face showing how much he didn’t believe what they said, Sylus’ grip on her hips got stronger. There was evidence from the way he held her. Did they just try to sell her out?

“You are telling her to sleep with them?” Sylus started softly, however, his eyes were glaring. “You just told me that she's only worth being with a man like that, right?”

“That’s not what I meant, Sy.”

Hearing the nickname came from the same person who said his Kitten didn’t fit him, the anger came before he could hold it back. “Don’t you dare to call me with names! I didn’t know you, nor have I ever met with you. You should be glad that I talk to you now, just because of her.”

Sensing the dominance Sylus gave, the girls started to talk to each other and tried to run away. At the same time, she was trying to calm Sylus. Although it was nice to see him mad and shouting to protect her, she didn’t want him to cause a scene or scare the people around. It should be a party where he enjoys himself.

“Sy, come on,” whispering to Sylus, she finally tries to drag him away.

“Don’t you ever dare to come near her anymore.” Sylus’ voice slowly became lower, yet still showing his anger. “Kitten, then didn’t do anything to you, right?”

Before long, just after Sylus was away from the girls—and they had time to run away—his full attention went to her, not thinking about anything else but her. Once feeling Sylus’ attention only on her, a smile finally broke on her face, feeling grateful and happy to be with him, and to be someone important to him.

“You lost your cool back there.”

“I’m sorry, Kitten. Did I scare you? Or did it startle you?”

With a shake of her head, she finally hugged Sylus tight, her way to say she’s not scared of him. “Of course, not. I know you do that to protect me. Although I did get a bit shocked, it was all good. Since I know you’re doing this for me.”

[evecolourshock]

Hmmm...

Possibly not an entirely Evil Alan, but hopefully this fic will suffice?

Alan chokes on a breath, watching this- this funhouse mirror thing scrabble its way out of the computer. It bears his face, or something very like it, rough with scars and glowering through dead orange eyes. It hisses and crackles at him, threatening and doing a damn good job of it, reminding Alan he has nowhere to run-

Collapses. The hisses double in pitch and volume. It tugs its foot free of the screen, and crawls enough to become a sulky, ungraceful heap under his desk.

Morbid curiosity fueling him, Alan crouches down to look - receives what might be a growl for his efforts, along with a flailing wave of a frisbee-weapon that cuts a red-hot line in his desk chair. I'm dangerous and armed, don't test me, he understands.

Like a kitten flashing claws and yowling, puffing itself up to be more imposing. A threat to be sure, but a whole lot of not much to back it up with.

Pitiful little thing, really, now he's looking at it like this.

"Oh, buddy." Alan croons quietly. "Someone did a real number on you, huh?" The growls die down, and Alan knows he's being assessed with those glowing but empty orange eyes. A threat, or an ally? An enemy, or a friend?

That's alright. Alan's always liked the dangerous ones. "It's alright. I'm only a threat if you attack me and mine." The growl comes back, but it's more... curious. Questioning. "That's right, I don't fight unless provoked." He smiles, sits down properly. "I guess we're alike on that one."

The mirror creature creeps forwards, weapon away but still wary. Alan lets it, doesn't reach any more than to make sure it can see his hands. "My Creator." It grinds out, a passable attempt at speech - like it used to know how, but can't any more.

Alan's eyes sharpen. "I made you? In there?" He looks at the computer, thoughtful. "Then- never mind." He smiles, careful not to show teeth. "Regardless, that makes you mine. I'm sorry I didn't know about you sooner." He opens his hand a little farther, extends it a little further, invites his creature to touch if it wants. "But I know now, and I take care of what's mine."

His creature doesn't hesitate to put Alan's hand on its throat. Unusual, but-

Alan does his best not to grip, at the sudden influx of information. This- this creature, this pitiful thing brought low and injured... this is what remains of his finest creation. Of Tron, the best Program he's ever written, one he poured his whole soul into.

Alan growls quietly this time. "Who did this to you, my Creation?" He reaches around to card his fingers through brittle hair, his broken shell of a program made flesh bowing enough to let him. "Who hurt you, who took you away from me?"

"Flynn." His Program melts into his touch, starved for any contact that doesn't hurt. "Clu." It can barely keep itself propped up, shaking on powerful limbs rendered useless with exhaustion.

Alan pulls his Program in for a hug, mindful of the wounds he can feel but not see. "They will not do that again." He promises, low and vengeful. A thought passes through, and he brushes a hand down his Program's back, rubbing in circles like he used to do when Jet needed comfort. "Are there others like you, my Creation? Others that are ours, under threat from our enemies?"

His Program tucks into him, whimpering softly as separation's wound starts to heal. Claimed, wanted, allowed to keep what it once claimed for itself. "Yes. My child. His friends."

"And what of your friends, my Creation?"

"Dead. Or enemies." His Program hisses, aggrieved and grieving like it no doubt hasn't been able to for far too long. "Both for some."

"Then we will kill the enemies, and bring those of ours that are left to safety with us." Alan tells his Program quietly, a fact more than it is a promise.

"Thank you, my Creator." His Program rasps out.

"Any time, my Creation. Now rest, Rinzler. We've got a lot of work to do once you're healed."

Some kind of Rinzler and Evil Alan?? I still have no idea lol

[suuuupernovaaa]

surprise

summary: despite your mid-level efforts at preventing, you find yourself pregnant with Joel’s child - and you really don’t want to be.

tags: pregnancy, jackson joel, fluff, comfort, established relationship

Based on this request.

MASTERLIST

Shit. Fuck. Shit. Fuck!

The words repeat over and over in your mind, day in and day out. How could you have been so careless? How could you have let this fucking happen?

You’re not an idiot. Not some dumb teenager. You know exactly how babies are made. You know what you and Joel have been doing, damn near constantly, leads to this - and you haven’t been as careful as you could have been.

The two pink little lines haunt you. It’s been four days since you saw them in the bathroom, since they stared at you with their taunting little pink eyes until you vomited, and you’ve avoided Joel since.

Which has been super fucking hard. You don’t live together, even though you’ve discussed making that happen in the near future, but you and Joel have a routine.

He brings you coffee, every morning, to enjoy together on your porch. That is, unless you’ve spent the night together before, and then he doesn’t have to make the long journey Nextdoor to deliver it.

You part ways for your daily duties, whatever they may be, and always meet up again in the late afternoon. You take walks, make dinner together, maybe have a drink at the saloon or watch a movie. Sometimes Joel has more work to do at night. Often you sleep at his house, but you sometimes end up back at your own home, and then it starts again the next day.

You’ve left a note every morning the last four days that you had to head out early, and you’ll see him later.

It’s harder in the evenings to come up with excuses. A headache, sour stomach, spending time with a friend… Joel is too smart to let it go on too long.

But you can’t face him. You feel like a failure. You never really wanted kids, maybe not even before the world ended. Even in the safe town of Jackson Hole, motherhood doesn’t appeal to you. Safety isn’t guaranteed, and it doesn’t feel right to bring a child into a world like this.

But you’ve missed two periods now. You don’t feel right; you’re extra tired, so hungry, and soon, you know you’ll start to show.

You can’t hide it forever.

That evening, day four of avoiding Joel, he pounds on your door at dusk.

Shit. Fuck. Shit.

You take your time going to the door, and try to muster a smile when you pull it open.

“Hey there,” you say, and Joel scowls down at you.

“Don’t ’hey there’ me,” he replies in that gruff twang of his, and practically shoves you aside to enter your home.

You know there won’t be any avoiding it now. You can’t lie to Joel.

“You gonna tell me what the hell is going on with you? I don’t like you avoiding me.” He faces you, his hands on his hips like you’re a child he’s scolding. “I don’t buy it that you’re sick. Fess up.”

You rub your forehead with your fingertips and take in a deep breath that comes back out all shaky.

“I’m pregnant.”

Joel’s hands fall from his hips. Clearly, that’s not what he was expecting.

“Pregnant?”

You wince. “Yeah. I guess maybe, two months along or so.”

Joel walks to your worn leather couch and sits down, rubbing his jaw.

“Pregnant.”

You stay where you are, near the door, in case you need to bolt.

“I… am scared. And sick. I’ve been freaking out.”

“All alone?” he asks, his voice sad, and you feel your heart soften - just a little.

You take one step towards him. “I never wanted to be a mom. I don’t think I’ll be good at it. And I didn’t figure you’d want to, uh, do it all over again.”

He stares at you for a long moment and finally, pats the couch next to him.

You hesitate.

“Come on, girl,” he says, like you’re a skittish horse, but it works. You sink into the couch next to him, and he wraps his arms around you.

“I probably wouldn’t have chosen to have a baby, anymore than you would have. And we do have… options.”

You shake your head. “I know, but I don’t want that. I think I want it. But if you don’t…”

“I do,” he says, so quickly and so firmly, it makes your stomach flutter.

“You do?”

Joel nods, meeting your eyes. “I think you know that you’re the love of my life. If we’d met before, when I was younger, before all this, I’d have married you and had as many kids as we could’ve.” His expression is soft, nearly dreamy. “I’d have worked hard and bought a big house, with a big yard and some dogs. Maybe a farm or something. We’d have been happy.”

You sink into him, picturing it together. It doesn’t sound so bad. “But we met here, honey, and we’ve made the best of it. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me. I want you to move into my house, I want to take care of both of you. Parenting ain’t easy, but we can do it together. Plus, Tommy and Maria will be around. And Ellie. We aren’t alone.”

Your throat feels thick and tears are pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“Are you sure I can do it?” you ask.

Joel holds you close, his chin resting on top of your head. “Never been more sure of anything in my life.”

[phighter-kisser]

YANDERE GRIEFER AND MY LIFE IS YOURS!!!

anon i love you /p

you didnt specify what you wanted so,, i sort of bullshitted my way through this mb

i tried to make it yandere, but i think i ended up being more like 'sadistic griefer' than anything else. i do want to try this again sometime though!! it was surprisingly fun to think about.

player/reader/you is not very nice in this me thinks

throughout all your days travelling; fighting your way through mutliple enemies to defeating a half-frozen king only for him to turn into literal snow and bone, you never thought this would happen.

so much for trying to find and save builderman.

it started off fine enough, but things only seemed to have downgraded when you hit bigfoot by accident with your jeep.

the mayor was kidnapped by his own son and his pet monkey (seriously, who the hell names their kid 'brad'? no wonder this guy turned to evil.) - it seemed.. fine, nothing you couldn't handle.

your wooden sword was replaced with an iron one (even if you had to go through a pissed off bigfoot to get it.) you could defeat enemies more easily now. it felt like some sort of upgrade in a video game, if that made any sense. you doubt it didn't.

but then, brad.. or, fuck.. wait, what did he call himself? griefer? thats a dumb name also. but moving on.

griefer, especially when you first met him, was incredibly pissed off just by you being here, trying to 'save' his father. talking about these 'voices' of his. they wanted him to kill you.

huh, that sounds rather familiar.

not the first time someone wanted you dead, or-- at least, heavily injured.

then came the 'final' battle; right as you struck your sword, knocking him down, pointing your weapon at him-- he laughed, loudly, slowly getting up on weak legs despite your threats of harming him more.

he talked about forgetting this 'plan of his', raising the venomshank once more, only to stab himself in the leg while shouting.

"4LL 1 W4NT 1S Y0U"

fuck him, fuck this, you weren't even getting paid for this. you would've bolted straight out his disastrous bedroom if not for being stuck in place by the sight of him screaming curses, plantlife taking most of his body over starting from the leg.

colorful flowers blooming across the vines, a stark contrast to his personality.

he became more of a monster than he already was.

but, well, thats how you ended up here, lost in the middle of a jungle, running away from your current 'problem'.

when you first took off, he only cackled, spouting something about 'mouses and their fears.'

asshole. comparing you to a mouse.

just as you saw an opening, an exit, freedom-- a FUCKING VINE DRAGGED UP FROM THE GROUND AND GRABBED YOUR LEG.

welp, guess you're gonna die today.

dragging your (now rather limp) body back to him, clasping his hands together, a smirk on his lips, exposing teeth that seemed much sharper than before.

"T1MES UP M0US3."

his voice was like nails on a chalkboard. not a pleasant thing to listen to. especially now with you handing upside down by the leg,.

"why.. do you call me that?" your words only made him laugh more, his visible eye crinkling in delight. you wanted to punch him. hard.

"M0US3?"

"yeah, that. why mouse of all things?"

he paused for a moment, grinning wider, slowly walking towards you like a predator sizing up prey. (gee, hurry up grandpa, we don't have all day here.)

he reached forward and tapped your cheek, a satisfied noise leaving him.

"D3L1C4T3.. PL14NT. E4G3R T0 R0LL 0V3R 4ND D13. L1K3 4 PUPPET."

he frowned when you didn't react, brushing his (now much sharper) nails against the skin of your cheek, looking for any kind of reaction. any fear. any worry. any anger. but he saw none. yet.

with a small huff, he sharply dragged his claws against your cheek, making you writhe in pain, eyes widening when you felt the first droplets of blood on your skin.

"you fuckin' sicko!"

you shouted, reaching out to try and grab him, only for him to step back, amused, a sadistic glee in his eye.

"D0N'T F0RG3T WH0'S 1N C0NTR0L H3R3. 1 C4N K1LL Y0U 4NYT1M3 1 W4NT."

your lips curled back into a mild snarl. you'd much prefer him that over this.

"W3'R3 G0NNA H4V3 SUCH FUN T0G3TH3R."