#there's no right answer here - these are all tough to save yourself from

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Dare or Dare?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.8k

Warnings: fluff

Summary: You and Dean have a special relationship. A never-ending game of Dare or Dare goes on when suddenly, you want a bit of truth. It’s time to decide if you want tot cross the thin line between friends and something more.

Square Filled: “Stop complaining. I saved your life.” (2021) for @spnquotebingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

Dean would have driven to the bar but his car was wrapped around a tree so it’s not able to run right now. You told him not to speed through the woods like a maniac, but did he listen to you? No. When does he ever? If he had, you would have driven him out of the woods with minor scratches on his car. Now he needs a whole new engine, so you’re going to let him suffer alone with that one.

Thankfully, the bar isn’t too far from the Bunker, or else Dean would have taken one of the other cars. It’s good to get some fresh air and get in your steps even though this recent hunt has you going well over thirty thousand.

“God, I’m never going to get the stench of werewolf blood out of my clothes.”

“Get new ones.”

“What about my car? It’s going to take forever to fix her up.”

“You like doing that kind of work. You said it relaxes you.”

“It’s going to take weeks for the cuts on my legs to heal. Not to mention I have a fracture in my left arm. I think I also got a concussion.”

“Stop complaining. I saved your life,” you roll your eyes.

“Yeah, after I made it easy for you.”

You scoff with a smile and push him away from you flirtatiously. “Just admit I’m a better hunter than you.”

“No, sweetheart. I’m better.”

“Yeah, whatever you say, tough guy.” Dean looks at you like you have two heads. “All I’m saying is that I hunted with blood gushing out of my vagina but sure, little cuts on your legs are definitely something to get upset over.”

“I’m not…” Dean pouts. “They’re big cuts.”

You laugh and push open the door to the bar. The place isn’t crowded with a lot of people, but there are enough for the place to be buzzing with chatter. There are two spots by the bar that you snag and wave over to the bartender who finishes with a customer.

“Two beers, please.”

“You got it.”

He comes back with your drinks and you slide one over to Dean who catches it easily. This is the bar you two frequent a lot, but there are always new faces. This is the kind of bar someone goes to when they’re passing through town. It’s a run-down bar that has good music and delicious alcohol, so it’s good enough in your book.

There is a group of girls by the pool table that Dean has his eye on, and you can’t help but feel a pang in your heart. You’ve practically grown up with the Winchesters. You met Dean when you were a freshman in high school and immediately clicked with him. He was easy to talk to, and he helped you get away from your overbearing parents.

It was hard not to fall in love with him. He’s easy on the eyes, he has a way with the words, and he is very charming. He knows just what to say when you feel sad, he is always there for you even if all you need is silent company, and he makes the bad times seem not so bad. The first time he brought him a woman for the night, you stayed in your motel room and cried yourself to sleep. Granted, emotions were already high from the hunt you had just finished, but you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be on the receiving end of his romance.

That’s where you’re stuck right now. In limbo. You’ve been here for decades. There had been a couple of times when you two were close to crossing that line (thanks to expensive alcohol you got Castiel to steal), but you never went over the line. Why would you? It’s scary on the other side. So many “what if” questions and not enough answers. At least on this side, you know where you stand.

“See something you like?” you ask, eyeing the same group of girls as he is.

“Wanna play Dare?” he grins.

Oh, God, not this game. Truth or dare is such a boring game so you play Dare or Dare with Dean. It’s just like how it sounds, but it usually ends with either one of you getting too close to that invisible line. You and Dean have a naturally flirtatious relationship because he makes everything so easy. It’s very easy to fall for his charm when he smiles. He has such a pretty smile.

“Sure,” you say, plastering a smile onto your face.

“Okay, I’m going to go over there and talk to the little blonde, and I dare you to come over there and exclaim I was the best sex you ever had and leave. You know, really sell how great I am.”

“How do I put up with you?”

“You love me,” he grins.

There goes that damn smile. You open your mouth to deny him but what comes out is the complete opposite.

“Okay, bet.”

Dean is gone before you can back out of the dare. He’s always daring you to do something like this. It helps him get laid which should be a deterrent given your current situation, but it’s like you can’t say no. Having his attention on you albeit a tiny amount, is enough for you to agree to anything he asks.

Dean walks over to the group and introduces himself to the pretty blonde one. All of her friends kind of step to the side to give her some alone time with the sexy stranger, and she slinks up to his side with a sultry smile on her face.

The only reason you’re doing this is because you wish you’d know if he was the best sex you’ve ever had.

Okay, no time like the present. You chug the rest of your beer even though it doesn’t give you the buzz you’re craving right now. You walk over to Dean after giving him a few minutes with the blonde, and you tap him on his shoulder.

“Dean?” He turns and smirks at you. “Dean Winchester?”

“Hey, sweetheart.” Remember, it’s all for the bit. He doesn’t usually crank up the charm for you. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“How could you? You never called me back.”

“Sweetheart, what we had… I was scared. I had to leave. It wasn’t you, it was me. You understand, right?”

You can practically see the little blonde drooling over Dean from the corner of your eyes.

“Yeah, I guess I can understand that. It’s just… you were the best sex I ever had.” To really sell it home (and to see what Dean would do), you slap him not too hard but not gentle either. “Goodbye, Dean Winchester.”

With that, you turn on your heel and stalk back to the bar. He wasn’t expecting you to slap him but it was a nice touch. The pretty blonde can’t keep her hands off him. It should excite him, but he is suddenly not feeling it with her anymore. He honestly wanted to see if you would do the dare. He didn't have a desire to take someone home tonight, but you just handed him on a platter to this woman.

You don’t turn back to look at Dean because you don’t want to know if he’s watching you. Sure, it would be nice to know his attention is on you but what if he’s not watching you? What if all he wanted from you was to make sure he got laid? Not that he ever had a problem in that department. He could easily get any woman he wanted.

You wonder if you’ll ever have your moment with him, but it’s unlikely. He has to be interested in other women because he never takes it beyond flirting with you. Maybe you’re just destined to be his friend and nothing more.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

A handsome man stands next to you at the bar with a drink in hand. He looks nice enough. Nothing like Dean, but it wouldn’t hurt to entertain him for the night. If Dean is going to slut his way into a woman’s pants, then you can do the same thing.

“No,” you smile.

“I couldn’t help but see you slap that man over there. An ex-boyfriend of yours?”

“No,” you chuckle. “He’s just a friend. We were doing a bit. I’m Y/N.”

“Kaleb. So, you from around here?”

Lana… Leslie… Lauren…? Whoever she is, she can’t keep her hands off Dean. He knew she was an easy target but this is too easy. She ditched her friends to spend more time with Dean, and all she’s been doing is talking his ear off about… well, he doesn’t even know. This should have made him happy yet he’s not into it at all. The music dies down because the song is ending, but before the new one comes on, he hears something.

Your laughter. It’s very hard not to ignore your infectious laughter.

He snaps his head to the bar counter and sees you talking with a man he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anyone in this bar, but he’s more aware of the men than he is of the women. Maybe it’s because he is a man and he knows what men think about when they see a pretty woman.

He just did it not even an hour ago. The little green monster sits proudly on his shoulder, reminding him that because he never made a move, other men can sweep away what’s his. You’re his whether you know it or not, and he’s not saying that to be creepy. You’ve always been his. You know it. He knows it. He, apparently, isn’t man enough to say something to you or do anything about it.

The only reason he never made a move is because you never did, and you never took it past harmless flirting. Neither did he, but that’s beside the point.

Lana-Leslie-Lauren runs her hands down his chest but he’s not looking at her. His eyes are glued to you and the way the man keeps inching toward you. It’s only when his hands land on your thigh that he jumps into action.

“I’m sorry, Leslie,” he decided to take the jump and guess her name, “but I have to get going.”

“It’s Laura.”

Eh, he was close. Does that make him an asshole? Definitely. Does it make him sorry? Not one bit.

“Right. Sorry, sweetheart.”

Dean peels himself off her and stalks to the bar where the man has gotten even closer to you.

“Hey, sweetheart, Sam needs us. He says he might have something for us.”

“Okay.” You take out some money for the bill. “It was nice meeting you, Kaleb.”

“Wait.” He pulls out a business card and hands it over to you. “Call me.”

You take the business card without a word and leave with Dean. You pass by a trash can and toss the card inside. You have no desire to call the man. He just didn’t do it for you. Dean sees this and tries to hide the smirk on his face.

“Does Sam have anything for us, or were you just bullshitting?” Dean’s grin is everything you need to know. “Just as well. I was getting bored.”

“Nice slap, by the way,” he chuckles. “So, was the guy not interesting enough?”

“Him? He was nice but nothing he said was making me swoon. A guy hasn’t done that to me in a long time.”

“When was the last time?”

You look at him as you walk back to the Bunker. How can you tell him the last time a man made you swoon, truly swoon, was in high school? It was senior year and no one had asked you to Prom. You had a group of friends you could go with but they all had their own dates. You would be “third-wheeling” so to speak, and you didn’t want to watch them be all cute and cuddly with each other.

That is, until Dean asked you. It was the first time you swooned for a man, and it was the only time you did.

“I don’t know,” you finally answer. “I guess I’m unswoonable.”

You two reach the bunker and head inside and Dean takes out his key to unlock the door. He can’t help the snicker from escaping his mouth. It sounds like a giggle.

“That’s because you’re so hard to please.”

“Okay, fine.” You walk inside the Bunker but don’t go down the stairs just yet. “I dare you to swoon me.”

“Are you you’re ready for that?”

No. “Yes.”

“Okay.”

Dean swiftly grabs your waist and pulls you into him. Before you have a chance to wrap your head around what’s happening, Dean walks you back into the wall on the metal landing overlooking the war room. Dean slides his hand into your hair to move it out of the way before trailing his touch to your jaw. Your lips part from shock as he gets closer to your face. He rubs the tip of his nose against yours, and you poke your tongue out to wet your lower lip.

He’s so close that you could touch his lips with your tongue. Your heart is beating so much that you’re scared he can hear it. Your skin has a very thin layer of sweat on it, and your hands shake slightly from the anticipation. Your eyes flutter shut thinking he’s going to finally kiss you when Cock-Block Winchester speaks from the war room.

“Hey, how was the bar?”

Dean pulls away from you, taking away his heat, but you can’t move. You look up into his green irises. Is that hesitation you see? Regret? Lust? Dean lets go of you but doesn’t break eye contact with you.

“Yeah, it was fine,” he says to his brother.

Finally, he looks away and walks down the metal stairs, leaving you alone to think about what his lips might have felt like against yours. If he doesn’t know how you feel, he does now. You weren't pulling away or stopping him. You were too scared to make the first move because what if he only did this because of the dare? What if he doesn’t like you like that?

You let out a shaky breath before following Dean down the stairs. Dean watches as you pass by Sam without so much as a word, and he can’t help but feel bad for what he did. Yes, it was a dare, but he was also playing with your emotions like that. You can’t constantly flirt with him and not grow some type of feelings for him. Maybe all he needs is some sleep to wash this feeling off him.

You take your time unpacking your duffel bag, needing an excuse to stay locked up in your room. A few hours go by before someone knocks on your door. Knowing it can only be one of two people, you’re a bit hesitant to open it. What if it’s Dean? What will you say to him? Still, you walk to the door and open it. Dean stands on the other side of the door with a look that can either be nervousness or regret.

“What’s up?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Dare me again.”

“What?”

“Dare me again.”

“Why?”

“I have tried for the past three hours to get you out of my head, and I can’t. I should have done something earlier, and I didn’t…” He walks you backward into the doorframe and puts his arm above you to semi-trap you. Not like you’d move anyway. “Dare me again. I need to know.”

“Know what?” you whisper.

“That you feel what I feel. If you do, you’ll dare me again. If not, I’ll go back to my room and we’ll forget this ever happened.”

You look down at his lips before looking into his eyes. “I dare you to make me swoon.”

Dean slides his hand into your hair to move it out of the way before trailing his touch to your jaw. Your lips part from shock as he gets closer to your face. He rubs the tip of his nose against yours, and you poke your tongue out to wet your lower lip.

He’s so close that you could touch his lips with your tongue. Your heart is beating so much that you’re scared he can hear it. Your skin has a very thin layer of sweat on it, and your hands shake slightly from the anticipation.

“Dare me to kiss you,” he whispers, barely audible.

You don’t. Instead, you grab the back of his neck and pull him in close to you. You make the first move and kiss him, igniting something special between you two. After decades of doing the same dance, finally, the song is over and you’re able to step into this new chapter in your life.

x

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[lumiluffy]

⋆˙⟡ — Roronoa Zoro

a/n : this is my first post here! hi! i wanted to write something soft for him, since i feel like he often gets mischaracterized as him just being rough and tough, when really he's got a kind heart, and cares about his crew. he just shows it in his own unique way!

summary: one night aboard the thousand sunny, reader has been feeling down because of her insecurities towards her body. zoro takes notice, and comforts her in his usual grumpy manner. ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-

The stars were just beginning to peek through the dark navy blue sky, the sea calm around the Sunny as the crew settled in for the night. Laughter and music filtered out from the men’s quarters where Luffy and Usopp were no doubt causing chaos, but you sat alone on the upper deck, hugging your knees to your chest as the breeze rolled past.

You hated how you felt.

No matter how much you told yourself it didn’t matter, the comparisons always crept in. Nami and Robin—confident, gorgeous, with curves that always turned heads—and then you, with none of that, sitting here, wondering if anyone would ever see you the same way.

You heard footsteps behind you but didn’t turn. You already knew who it was.

Zoro’s quiet presence had always been strangely comforting. He wasn’t the type to ask questions or pry, but tonight… he didn’t keep walking.

Instead, he stopped right behind you and grunted. “You’ve been up here for a while.”

You didn’t answer.

He sighed and finally dropped down next to you, arms resting across his bent knees. “Alright. Spill it.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Spill what?”

Zoro didn’t look at you, just stared out at the horizon with that usual deadpan expression. “You’re quiet. Like… too quiet. Not just today. You’ve been off for a while.”

You tried to shrug it off, turning your face away. “It’s stupid. Not worth talking about.”

“It's got you actin' all weird,” he muttered, glancing at you sideways. “Must not be that stupid.”

You hesitated. The words were heavy on your tongue, shame curling in your chest. But Zoro didn’t pressure you—he just waited. Quiet, patient, and solid.

So you finally spoke, albeit softly.

“I just… I’ve been feeling kind of insecure. About how I look. Compared to the other girls.”

Zoro’s brows knit slightly, confused.

You fiddled with your fingers in your lap. “You know… I don’t really have the same figure as them. And it’s like, every guy on the Grand Line falls over himself for Nami or Robin. I feel like… no one would ever look at me like that.”

There was a pause. Then, in typical Zoro fashion:

“…You’re kidding, right?”

You frowned. “What?”

He finally turned to face you fully, brow furrowed with disbelief. “You really think that stuff matters to people who actually care?”

You gave him a look. “It matters to a lot of people, Zoro.”

There was a pause before he spoke again,

“You’re an idiot.”

You practically gawk at him, “Wh.. What?!”

He sighed, scratching the back of his head, “You heard me. That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard— and I talk to Luffy everyday.”

You just blink at him, stunned. 

He scoffed and leaned back on one hand, the moonlight casting a silver glow across his face. “That stuff only matters to a bunch of shallow bastards. But anyone with half a brain would know you’re worth more than that.”

You looked at him in surprise, and Zoro rubbed the back of his neck, clearly not used to this kind of conversation.

“I’m not great at this kind of thing,” he muttered. “But seriously… you don’t need to look like anyone else. You’re not less because you don’t have…” he waved a hand vaguely in the air, clearly uncomfortable, “…those proportions.”

You laughed weakly. “Nice save.”

He rolled his eyes, but you could see the slight color rising in his cheeks. “Shut up. You know what I mean.”

Zoro leaned forward again, elbows on his knees, and fixed you with a rare, sincere gaze. “I’ve seen a lot of strong people in my life. Warriors. Captains. Enemies. And I’ve seen you, day in and day out. You’re not weak. You’re not lesser. And you sure as hell don’t need to change anything.”

You swallowed, heart thudding louder than before, silently praying he wouldn't be able to hear it.

“I don’t care about that kind of stuff,” Zoro said bluntly. “And if someone does care—if they only see you for something like that—they don’t deserve you in the first place.”

He looked away again, muttering, “You’re fine the way you are. More than fine.” He mumbles that last part, but you catch it anyway.

You couldn’t help but smile a little, your heart fluttering softly. It wasn’t poetic, and it wasn’t full of flowery compliments like Sanji might give—but Zoro’s words were solid. Honest. The kind of comfort that came with zero sugar-coating and a lot of quiet truth. Something so uniquely...  Zoro.

“…Thanks,” you said softly, feeling a little lighter than you did just a few minutes prior.

Zoro didn’t answer right away. Then he stood, brushing off his pants and glancing down at you with that casual smirk of his.

“…C’mon. Let's go back inside. It’s getting cold.” He scratched the back of his head, voice a little quieter.

Surprisingly, he held out a hand for you to take, a shy gruff expression on his face as he looked away. 

And that you did.

You both walked back inside together, your hand still in his calloused one. 

Neither of you seemed to want to let go.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Good Luck Charm

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: At a Dodgers game, you meet Tim Bradford, who thinks you're a good luck charm for the Dodgers.

Warnings: pure fluff!

Word Count: 1.4k+ words

A/N: @bradleybeachbabe inspired me to write this (as well as Eric Winter posting about the Dodgers)! I hope you enjoy the game you're going to soon, Rachel!!!💙

Today’s date has been circled on your calendar for months. The Dodgers are playing at home in LA, and you got tickets behind home base. Since scoring the tickets, you’ve been counting down the moments, using this game to get you through tough days and long nights. Now that it’s finally here, you can forget about everything else for the evening and enjoy the game, hoping for another exciting evening like the tiebreaking two-run homer you watched on TV last week. Dressed in your favorite Dodgers shirt, you leave for Dodgers Stadium happier than you’ve been in weeks. Something in the Los Angeles air makes you think it will be a great night.

“Lucy, if I had an extra ticket, I’d sell it,” Tim sighs as he parks at Dodgers Stadium. “If you want to be at this game so badly, ask Thorsen. If anyone can get you a last-minute ticket, it’s him.”

“But he’s already at the game,” Lucy laments over the phone.

“So am I!”

“Yeah, but that’s different.”

“How is that-“ Tim stops and shakes his head. “Lucy, I hope you can figure something out. If not, I’ll tell you all about the game at work.”

“Ugh, you’re such a man.”

“Thanks. Bye.”

Tim ends the call before Lucy can explain that she did not mean that as a compliment. It’s been a tough week at the Mid-Wilshire station, and Tim wants to watch a good game, cheer for his team, and unwind.

Tim smiles as he makes his way to his seat: an unexpected but highly appreciated upgrade to home base. Coming into Dodgers Stadium feels like coming home, and Tim thinks tonight will be a good game. At least until he sees that the seat beside him, which he expected to be empty, is occupied by a woman scrolling on her phone rather than enjoying the pre-game activities. He ignores his disappointment at being in the section with a disinterested neighbor as he watches warmups.

You look up from the detailed roster file you keep on your phone. Gavin Lux, an infielder who is a left-hand batter and right-hand thrower, is wearing his glove on his right hand for warmups. As you scroll through your newest notes, glancing up at the team every few swipes, someone sits beside you.

“Left, right,” you murmur to yourself.

“Excuse me?” the man asks.

You lift your gaze from your phone, then freeze when you see the attractive man occupying the seat to your right.

“Sorry, I’m talking to myself. Lux is just… never mind, sorry.”

As you turn back toward the field, he asks, “Lux is?”

“He’s warming up with his glove on his throwing hand.”

The man looks out into the field, locates Lux, and nods. “He is. Any idea why?”

You shake your head. “I thought maybe I was remembering his stats wrong, but I double-checked and he’s warming up opposite.”

“Interesting. Think we can win with him off his game?”

Pursing your lips, you shrug. “I don’t think he’s the player that makes or breaks a game. Unless he tries to bat right-handed, we should be okay.”

“I’m Tim,” he introduces, offering his hand.

You shake his hand as you tell him your name, surprised by how he holds your hand in his just a moment longer than is usually acceptable. You don’t mind, especially when he smiles and asks if you’ve noticed anything else.

“Is this your usual seat?” you inquire after a few minutes of discussing the players and their techniques.

“No, my season pass gets me over first base,” Tim answers. “You?”

“One-night only. I’d love to get a season pass someday.”

“If we win tonight, they should give you one on principle.”

You laugh as you ask, “Why?”

“If we win tonight after that tenth inning save last week, with our infielders off their game, and you just happen to be in the crowd? You’d have to be good luck.”

“Maybe it’s just a good day,” you counter softly.

Tim smiles as he agrees, “Maybe.”

“Stop letting the ball play you!” someone behind you yells. “This is why they should have left you in the minors!”

You stifle a laugh at their enthusiasm but agree with them. Tim sighs beside you and checks the score.

“Just one can of corn, is that too much to ask?” Tim grumbles.

“Wow,” you exclaim. “You really just used that term.”

“You disagree?”

“Not at all, just haven’t heard someone younger than Babe Ruth call it that.”

“Then, what do we do? We’re going to lose at this rate.”

You shrug and offer, “Guess I’m not very good luck, after all.”

Tim wants to disagree but decides that it’s not his place. If the Dodgers win, then he’ll tell you that he’s impressed by you, drawn to you, but otherwise, you’ll go your separate ways, never to see one another again.

“I don’t want to watch this, Tim,” you say with a pout.

The Dodgers are tied in the bottom of the ninth in a concerning parallel to their previous game. You don’t trust them to get the ball where it needs to be to win, not after their lackluster performance in the first few innings.

“Wish them luck,” Tim encourages, standing beside you as the crowd roars. “C’mon, give into the superstition once. What’s the worst that happens?”

“We lose, and my night of relaxation becomes me wondering if you put a curse on the team by saying good luck in these sacred walls.”

“I never thought I’d be the one to say this, but it’s a baseball game. It’s not that serious.”

You try to ignore Tim, but the smile on his face is too hard to look away from. To appease him and partially because you love hearing him say you are good luck, you whisper a wish of good luck, boys through the net separating you from foul balls.

And, somehow, between when you speak and when the stadium silences, Mookie Betts hits a homerun that echoes throughout Los Angeles, and the Dodgers perform another walk-off.

“You did it!” Tim yells as the crowd erupts into cheers.

He pulls you into his arms, completely forgetting his prior hesitance to tell you how much you affected him, and you throw your arms over his shoulders as he spins you. When your feet are on the ground again, you cup Tim’s jaw and smile.

“We won!” you cheer as fireworks boom overhead.

“You really are good luck,” Tim replies.

“Maybe you’re the good luck."

Tim shakes his head and leans closer to you. The stadium around you is completely forgotten, entirely focused on the man before you. His hands are on your waist, yours are framing his face, and you can’t wait to hear what he says next.

“Will you go out with me? I think we could both use some more good luck,” he proposes.

Your smile widens as you nod. “I’d love to.”

Tim pulls you against his side, his arm warm and steady over your shoulders as you cheer for your home team and yourself.

Bonus:

“So, how was the game, Tim?” Lucy asks before roll call.

“It was great, after we caught up, at least,” Tim answers. “Did you watch it?”

“Yeah, Aaron pulled through and got me a ticket. Over the outfield but still better than anything I could’ve gotten on my own.”

Tim nods, but she doesn’t move out of the doorway so he can walk inside.

“What?” he asks.

“I saw something else at the game. Someone made it onto the jumbotron,” Lucy sing-songs. “You’re trending on ClipTok. Everyone’s talking about the mystery couple who celebrated the win.”

Tim narrows his gaze at Lucy, who shrugs and invites him to check for himself before she enters the roll call room. He pulls his phone from his pocket, surprised to see a text from you.

We’re trending. I don’t know if I should be more upset by all the people shamelessly looking for us or that they’re calling you ‘gorgeous’ and I’m ‘that girl hugging him.’

Tim rolls his eyes and answers:

Wait until they find out why we won.

You don’t acknowledge the implication that he’ll tell someone (Lucy, who will undoubtedly put it on ClipTok); instead, you tell him you’re looking forward to dinner tonight. What was supposed to be a relaxing evening at a baseball game for you and Tim turned into something so much more. If that’s not good luck, you don’t know what is.

[missmeinyourbones]

we NEED "i'm just too soft for all of it." IWHT MEGUMI PLS IM BEGGING

I'M JUST TOO SOFT FOR ALL OF IT (m. fushiguro)

a/n: me making up medical shit LMFAO, repressed and emotionally constipated megumi, deadbeat dad t*ji, slight mentions and undertones of toxic masculinity

L’s MIDNIGHTS EVENT!

Since he was four years old and still growing into his long-sleeved sweaters, Megumi has learned to heal his own wounds or almost die trying.

A routine that he now knows like the back of his hand, he'd returned from his latest mission with weeping cuts and exhaustion clear beneath his eyes, making a point to stop at the medical closet before returning to his dorm. With Shoko's workday over, he makes a mental note to visit her first thing in the morning when he wakes. 

He can make it through the night, he always does. Because Megumi is a thinker. He plans until he can't and covers all bases for when they're stolen. He gets by. 

What he didn't take into account was potentially running into you, of all people. Dormitory halls barren and almost eerie, he nearly curses himself for brushing shoulders as you turn the corner on the way back to your own room. 

Your timing has always been wrong, or maybe it's right and Megumi can't differentiate between the two. 

And now he's here, on the creaky wooden floor of the medicinal closet, with you kneeling beside him and prodding at his injuries with tender wrists. 

Never one to be good with idle hands, Megumi fidgets and tries to brush at the dried blood on his shoulder. The action has both of you hissing—him in a jolt of pain and you in reaction to his hurt. 

"Don't touch it," your voice falters to be stern, still coming out so gently. Megumi thinks about the irony of that—of how you can't even be sharp if you tried. You're too gentle, too soft to even sound hard momentarily. 

Humiliated at the mere idea of doing nothing, at needing help, he shakily exhales and returns his attention to the floor. 

When the damp cotton pad in your hand touches a bit too deep in one of his cuts, Megumi does his best to save face but can't help the grunt of breath that gets sucked into his lungs. 

Immediately, he feels you retract from his skin and coo your apologies. Carefully returning your attention to the burning wound, you do your best to soothe him. 

"Sorry, it's deeper than it looks. Almost over."

Megumi's response is quick and curt, like a cut of its own, "It's fine."

You nod hesitantly before grabbing the bottle of antiseptic and another clean cotton round. The cleaning of his wounds continues in silence, though your thoughts are louder than anything. 

His injuries vary in size. Some deeper, fresher, than others. Some looking like one-hit victims and others a repeated attack. You do your best to take note of where he's sensitive, where he's hurting the most. 

When you reach a certain scratch on his bicep, you're able to catch a glimpse of his face. Sweat beading on his forehead and damp hair sticking to his skin, Megumi bites the collar of his uniform to suppress any kind of noise (weakness) from you. 

When he slips up and lets out a guttural muffled groan, you think you might audibly whimper yourself. 

"You can yell if you want to," you try to help him in any way you can, "or squeeze my hand or—"

"I'm fine," Megumi attempts to bark again, but this time is different. It's not cold or sharp like it was last time. You can hear how it shakes against the echos of the closet, how it sounds like the burn of tears building in a sore throat.

And between the pain everywhere he still has feeling and the intimacy of you carefully caressing him, Megumi finds himself tearing up. 

"Hey," he feels you whisper, attempting to caress his jaw and prompt him to look at you, "hey, you okay?"

He can't find it in himself to answer nor lift his head, so he sniffles like a kicked child and crinkles his nose in disgust at his own pathetic actions.

Megumi is tough, one of the toughest people you know. You've seen him more beat up than this and barely break a sweat. Your head feels light at the realization that something's wrong. He shouldn't be in this much pain from the familiar burning of antiseptic he's felt a dozen times over. Maybe it's from a cursed weapon, or a technique where—

A stifled sob cuts you off.  

Like a glass cracking beneath pressure, you feel something inside you break. No longer caring about cleaning his cuts or avoiding sensitive areas, you can't stop yourself from wrapping around his hunched frame. 

Megumi's breath hitches as you hold him, feels your hair tickling his neck when you rub his back and whisper.

"I'm sorry, I know, but you're doing so good, okay? And I'm almost done��"

"Don't do that," he bites. 

Assuming he's referring to prodding at a specific wound, you flinch and loosen your grip, "Do what?"

"Talk to me like that," he snarls with a crack, "in that—voice."

He feels your head remove its weight from his shoulder slowly, "Why?"

"Because I can't—" Megumi's voice almost breaks before he whines, gritting his teeth when he whimpers, "I can't handle it."

And just like that, Megumi is four years old again. He's scraping his knee on the concrete of his front lawn, and a blurry father-shaped figure with dark hair and legs far too tall tells him to be a man. Not being old enough to use the stove without supervision, but still knowing enough to save his cries for his pillow when Tsumiki is snoring and can't overthink his tears. He thinks of Gojo—of the first time he broke down in front of him and was met with whispers of good intent and love that registered in his brain as pity. Humiliation.

He doesn't realize he's crying until he feels your fingertips on his wet cheeks, replacing the stinging of antiseptic with a fluttering and velvety touch. 

Between sniffled strings of apologies and a few hiccups of words that don't quite make sense, you piece together that Megumi isn't crying because he's in pain. He's crying because he can, because you're helping him in a way he never asked for, let alone known. 

"I've never...been allowed to, like, feel—"

"Hey," you're soft again, as if you ever weren't. "I know," fingers delicately brush his sticky eyelashes when you remind him, "but you are now."

"Are what?"

"Allowed," you whisper against his cheek, "to feel however you want when you're around me."

And Megumi doesn't know how you do it. How you remain a light in a world that's constantly doing all it can to kick you while you're down. Maybe you're just naive, so stupidly optimistic that it'll eventually be your own demise. Maybe.

But, Megumi can't find himself to care, because he knows that for as long as he's on this earth, he'll be damned if he lets anything happen to that light of yours. 

Back to reality and rubbing at his stinging eyes, Megumi softly scoffs. "Y'know, sometimes you look at me with those stupid eyes and I don't know what happens, but I almost feel sick."

Your laughter tastes like water, "I know what you mean. But in a good way though, right?"

"Yeah," he nods, "in a good way."

When Megumi's back finally hits his mattress at an ungodly hour of the morning—something he's been dreaming of since he'd left it hours ago—he's sickeningly sore and his eyes burn with hypersensitivity. He lets himself close his eyes thinking of your hands, the ones that soaked his now scabbing wounds and wiped his watery eyes. 

Megumi plans, sure, but he never could have prepared for you. 

[dolicekiss]

Heyyyy,

could you write a one-shot, where fem reader is James Bond‘s niece and has accidentaly met her uncle in the city, kept following him and this is how she ends up in the casino? Bond realizes this pretty quickly, but can‘t save her from an intrigued Le Chiffre, who kidnaps her. (With Smut?)

Casino & Cash

PAIRING: Le Chiffre x Bond's niece!Female reader

CONTENT WARNING: kidnapping, dubcon, drugging, threatening, unprotected sex, age gap (reader is twenty, Le Chiffre is thirty five), hair pulling, bratty reader, choking, sadistic behavior, mention of blood, praise kink, degrading kink, forced oral (female receiving), forced fucking, knife play.

SYNOPSIS: The last person you expected to crash into was your uncle, in Montenegro, on his own vacation. You were warned to stay away from Bond, as the man was on a dangerous mission but because of your young curiosity, you found yourself following your uncle's trail. It didn't end well because when you entered the Casino, you not only caught your uncle's attention but a specific banker’s too; Le Chiffre.

You hadn't expected to find your own uncle at a store in Montenegro, shoppin for a tuxedo, especially when your own mother had warned you to stay as far as you could from him and his line of work.

Never were your whys and whats answered, only subtle orders left for you to follow.

You were stubborn. Wanted to know more about him, about what he did, just what did he do that was beyond your understanding.

“Listen to me—”

You interrupted him. “I will not. You always ignore us and never even visit us anymore. Mom keeps saying to let you be but we're family, are we not?”

You didn't like just how easily your uncle had abandoned you. Just for the sake of his all secretive, dangerous occupation. It didn't sit right with you. Everyday, your mother would miss her brother and hope that someday he'd visit but James Bond had his own plans, to save the world and rid it of terrorist organizations.

Bond let out a grunt of frustration. As if preparing himself for a game of tough poker wasn't already energy draining, he now had to deal with your stubbornness. “You don't understand. You're only a child, I do not wish you to even have knowledge about all this."

“A child?!” You exclaimed, clearly offended that he'd even thought of you as one. “I am twenty, an adult. You wouldn't know though. Last time you visited, I was only eighteen.”

You recalled back to his short visit. Only entering through the doors of your apartment, discussing a few words with your mother and then leaving after dropping a bar of chocolate on the wooden desk in front of you which he'd claimed was a souvenir brought from Japan.

A bar of chocolate — for an eighteen year old.

It pissed you off just how avoidant your own uncle was.

“Just because I don't visit often doesn't mean I don't keep an eye on my family.” You shook your head at that, staring at him with a pout like some petulant child. Your father had abandoned you when you were only a little girl and when James stepped in to take care of you, your attachment to him grew.

So when he too took off under the name of his dangerous work, you made it your mission to confront the man.

But the last thing you expected was to see him here. Strolling through the mall, coursing through the tuxedos hanging from the metal rod in a luxurious store. Your mother missed him but her reaction was not as extreme as yours.

Before you could utter out another remark of disappointment, your uncle dismissed you by answering a phone call. Then he left, just like that. He once again didn't bother to look back and you suppressed the urge to stomp your foot on the marbled floor in the middle of the mall.

But you weren't gonna sit idle.

So you got to it.

Following him — like a snake slithering after its prey and tracking down its every moment. Subtle or not. Pursuing him lead you to Casino Royale. It took you days to land yourself a place at the Casino Royale, all the opulence and wealth you possessed came in help. Coming from the Bond family, you had access to all the ancestral wealth as well as the money James Bond earned through his work.

Casino Royal was beautiful and glimmering in pure opulence, the type of place you usually avoided as you were not fond of rich scums that looked down upon everyone else and considered the lives of middle class and lower nothing but futile.

Draped in black satin, you made your entrance inside the casino. Quick to grasp the attention of multiple gazes but you focused only on your uncle, capturing his blue eyes.

Found you.

You sent him a short smug grin. Like you'd win, you had found him. Tracked him down no matter how hard he tried to conceal his tracks and not be found but he had forgotten that at the end of the day, you too were his niece and carried his intelligence.

Without knowing what you were stepping into, you moved across the room. In your naivety, you'd laid yourself bare to the lion that possessed the front seat. Le Chiffre watched you move with such grace, your hips almost dislocating with how blissfully you walked over to the table.

To you, you'd won this game of cat and mouse. Unbeknownst to the real danger that your uncle so desperately tried to protect you against. He did everything in his power to keep you concealed but your foolishness and stubbornness had lead you to step right in the lion’s den.

As you stood behind your uncle, you wrapped your arm around his broad shoulders. Everyone watched, but Le Chiffre analyzed the scene unfold before him. Finger tapping against his temple, the sight of you nearly making him lose focus on the game. He was more curious though — a craving to unwrap the mystery that you were.

You were not an agent.

If you were, he would have known.

When your face came next to Bond’s, the gears in his head turned. He tilted his head, stare running over the both of you in scrutiny before his brain snapped.

You were no damn agent.

Nor were you an accomplice.

He registered the similarities between the two of you. You beared a striking resemblance to the man you stood next to, the lips and nose nearly giving away your relationship to him. You were a relative and Le Chiffre’s mind already was coming up with ideas and ways to use you as leverage against his nemesis.

“See, I told you. You can't always escape me, dear uncle.” You whispered in his ear, a small giggle escaping you.

Completely oblivious to the man with the scarred eye who stared at you with heightened curiosity in his one, dark eye. The other still holding some remnants of human emotions.

Le Chiffre also noticed the nervousness that decorated Bond’s face. It was obvious he was sweating at your presence in the Casino, not fond of it at all. Your naivety was going to get you in danger, as he saw how the men in the room eyed you like you were some new piece of meat.

Bond was an egoistic man.

He didn't care about risking a few lives if it meant saving millions others. Sacrificing a few people was a game of chess for him but you.

You were family.

He couldn't possibly risk you.

Especially knowing his sister would unleash hell about you.

The man was in a fucking dilemma. He didn't know what to do, but right now progressing with the game was his ultimate goal and aim so he did. Brushing your small hands off his shoulders.

“Just leave and don't come back here.” He whispered, and you looked at him. His blue eyes held no sarcasm or hesitance. He was serious and the look he gave you caused a chill to dance up your arms.

With a pout of reluctance, you made another grave mistake by ignoring his order and walking away to the bar. Le Chiffre’s gaze followed you and when you plopped down on the velvety chair, you accidentally made eye contact with him.

Appalled at how attractive he was, despite the minor flaw of a scarred eye. His gaze drank you up, every drop of you. From the revealed ankles of yours to the slit in your dress. He found it irritating it that he couldn't peek further into the recess of your inner thighs, the gap closed as you'd tossed your leg over the other.

You were quite young. He could see that too and something primal rose up in his throat which he drowned down with a glass of cognac.

Bond knew things were going to go haywire, especially with the way you'd captured Le Chiffre’s attention. It was good as he could win the game of poker with you distracting him but he couldn't possibly allow himself to include you in all this. Knowing that once you're in, there's no way out. No way to escape the clouds of danger looming above your head.

Everytime Le Chiffre went in with his money, he stole glances from you. Following how your stained lips met the rim of the glass of martini — his own throat beginning to become parched. You weren't oblivious to his gaze but the aura that levitated off the man like a dark cloud of death was a warning enough to not give him any attention.

You only focused on your uncle, Bond’s sparkling blues finding you. Continuing to play the game but also worrying about you and how he'd face his sister if she were to find out her daughter was involved in James’ life threatening games.

You had both the men all over the place.

One with your beauty, other with your blood.

Three glasses of martinis and a reapplied lipstick later, the game had come to an end. It was your uncle who emerged as the winner and you couldn't control your joy. Immediately embracing him in a hug and smiling at him. All the people in the Casino watching you, curious to what your relationship with James Bond was.

“Uncle, you won.”

Le Chiffre heard that.

Oh he did and a small subtle grin passed when he did.

You had to be his niece. You couldn't be his sister, nor wife nor daughter. The man was an agent for god’s sake, he couldn't risk to harbor his own relationships. You had to be someone else's. Le Chiffre’s anger subsided because he had found the right leverage against James Bond.

“Don't call me that.” He said through gritted teeth — shaking his head in disappointment. You blinked your eyes, dumbfounded.

Le Chiffre left the room, after stealing a glance from you. Already making plans to kidnap you and bring you to his knees, use you into James handing over all the money.

Bond had lead you outside to the parking lot, angry and frustrated. You couldn't understand the depth of the situation. You were only cheering for him but you weren't aware that by referring to him as your uncle, you'd stepped into the spotlight of danger and macabre. He pushed you inside the car and slammed the door shut, slipping inside the driver's seat.

“If you're told over and over again to stay the fuck away from me, why won't you listen?” You watched with a blurring vision as he slammed both his hands down on the posh steering wheel of the car. Your body flinched at such an aggressive reaction, succumbing to the leather of the seat you were.

You tried to excuse your behavior. “Uncle, I only wanted to spend time with you—”

“Fuck spending time with me. You're a target now, they'll do anything to get their hands on you.” James was a fucking mess. Perspired forehead and trembling hands, he started the car and began driving. There was only one single thing on his mind, to get you to the airport as fast as he could.

There wasn't even enough time to contact MI6 and call for emergency transportation for you. Le Chiffre had found out and you were not a human anymore — only blackmail material. A threat to both MI6 and James Bond.

The car drive was reckless, tears falling profusely down your cheeks. You couldn't understand what was happening but you were sure that something shady, something past your normal life was going on here. James drove like his life depended on it but then a blast roared through the darkness of the night.

Cutting the silence crisply in between, as the car came to a screeching halt. Its engine roaring out into the void the sky had become. You had no time to register the situation as the car door was slammed open, from both sides, and you two were pulled out. The strange faces moved aside and there emerged a familiar face, the man with the scarred eye.

He scared you.

Just by existing.

Your uncle was knocked over and pushed on his knees by one of the guards while another held you tightly against him. You couldn't give in, not that easily. Turning to the man who held you, you bared your teeth and bit down on his arm. His scream was cut short as he slapped you across the face, sending you straight into the grass by the road.

“She's resilient.” Le Chiffre commented, impressed by your act of rebellion. You were surrounded by guns, by dangerous people but you had the fucking nerve to harm one of his men.

That was attractive.

“Let her go.” Bond gasped out, the side of his head bleeding from the rough handling of Le Chiffre’s men. “Take me, but release her. She's of no use to you.”

Le Chiffre tilted his head. He walked over to where you were, kneeled down on the floor with a gun to your head. You accumulated the spit mixed with blood in your mouth and spat it to the side, glaring up at him through your thick lashes. The man fucking relished in how seemingly daring you were. He was going to enjoy you more than torturing James for his money.

He saw a challenge before him.

Le Chiffre reached for your chin, holding it tightly in his palm. Examining your face for any bruises and other than a busted lip, he found nothing of serious cause. “She's of no use? She's of all the use I need right now.”

Your uncle let out profanities of disagreement at the idea of you getting involved with the disgusting world of these men. He didn't like it — he hated it. He'd kept you seperate from him all these years because you were innocent. Innocent like the people he'd taken up this job to save.

“Fuck you, cunt.” You swore at Le Chiffre, glaring at him. That act of resilience only made you more attractive and he had to claim you.

He released your chin and smirked. “Drug them.”

That was all his guard dogs needed. Punctured with a syringe in your neck, you tried to hold onto your uncle before the void could consume you but you failed.

— ♡ —

You'd regained consciousness, expecting to be chained in some dark basement. But you were in a bedroom, as your hazy vision registered your surroundings. It was a serene room — sleek and modern. Too boring and dull for your taste.

After the cloud of fog dissipated from your brain, you finally scanned your surroundings in depth. You were on a bed, comfortable and soft and the room had a table in the corner then a balcony. You tried to get up but couldn't, feeling weak in the knees and thighs for some reason.

Your forehead was sweaty and your cunt throbbed. All while laying in an air conditioned room. It was quite weird to be feeling this hot and intense when the room was cold and the temperature was low.

You tried to writhe out of the restraints put on your wrist, but it didn't budge. The rope scraping against your skin and bruising it in the process. A soft whimper left you when you squeezed your thighs. Just what the fuck was happening to you? Brain fogging up and sweat oozing out of all your pores, you tried to scream out but couldn't due to a parched throat.

Then the door opened.

You were so occupied with your own messed up situation, you didn't even look up at who had entered the room.

Le Chiffre stared at you, as you squirmed like some worm on the bed. Back arching off once in awhile, lips letting out little huffs and brows furrowed in frustration. He knew what was happening to you, he was the cause of it afterall.

“Feel any indifferent?”

Your head shot up at his voice.

You hated the man already. He'd kidnapped you and your uncle, hurt you both yet — yet he appeared so fucking attractive. There was something terribly wrong with you because all your mind thought about inching closer to the man and getting fucked by him.

He was like an oasis and you were a thirsty woman.

“W-What did you do to me?” You managed to stutter out, squeezing your legs together in an attempt to satiate the hunger of your moist cunt.

You hated how needy you were acting, especially for such an evil man. This was completely against your own morals yet you couldn't help but crave his cock right inside you, to calm down the throbbing of your soaked cunt.

He smiled. “Just a little drug, to make you more pliant.”

Pliant? For what?

You blinked a little. Cheeks flushed and strands sticking fo your forehead. “You fucking asshole. Let me go now.”

Le Chiffre grinned and nodded his head, leaving you completely shocked. He came closer to you, reaching over to untie the knots on your wrist and releasing you. His actions left you puzzled, your blurred gaze looking at him.

“Go.” He said. “Try stepping out this door and you'll get yourself fucked by most of my men here.”

You flinched at his words, not even having enough energy to step out the bed. Le Chiffre ran his finger over your arm, sliding it up and you leaned more into his touch. Desperately trying to get more, to settle the ache in your body.

Le Chiffre chuckled, seeing how desperate you were.

“P-Please. I don't feel good.” You had tears streaming down your face as you reached for his chest, running your fingers all over the expanse of it. You knew deep in your heart that to ache for him like this was wrong, to want him like this was horrible but your body wanted to succumb to this need. This crave and desire.

To you, Le Chiffre appeared ten times more alluring than he did before.

He stood before you, one hand in his pocket as he stared at you. “Yeah? Do you feel hot, mon chéri?”

You nodded your head, getting on your knees on the bed as your hands yearned to touch more of him. Flying up to his nape, freshly done nails grazing over the skin hidden beneath his collar. You stared at him, unbridled need controlling each and every molecule and tissue in your body.

“Want me to fuck you, hm? Tell me, do you want to cum on the cock of the man who has your uncle captive?” You stalled for a moment, not wanting to answer that. Guilt and wanton warring inside you. Your own uncle was somewhere, probably getting tortured and here you were with a saturated cunt aching to be fucked.

By the same man who'd taken you and your uncle captive.

You didn't want to answer.

Fingernails digging into his skin out of complete hatred, your gaze darkened and Le Chiffre only scoffed. You were touching him but also hurting him — a sweet mix which he found delightful. He grabbed both your hands, pinning your wrists down leaving you in need.

“Tell me.”

You shook your head.

He snickered. “Then suffer.”

Before he could sit up and leave, you grabbed him by his face and pressed your lips against his. The kiss was haste and messy, your lips hungrily colliding with his, tongue trying to pry open his mouth. Le Chiffre’s hand went up to your hair as he grabbed it — bunching it in his fist and tugging on the locks.

He tried to push you off him but the way you were kissing him like a starved, mad woman, it made his wall crumble apart.

You whimpered, pushing your body up against his. Trying to feel him, to rub your body all over his. Le Chiffre knew the drug had taken its affect on you but he didn't know you'd be this desperate. Hungrily sucking on his tongue and slurping up his saliva, like you needed him.

He could feel his spit mixed with yours smearing all over his mouth.

When he pulled away, he found you looking back at him with the most vulnerable and submissive look ever. Pants tightening at the mere sight of you looking this messed up, Le Chiffre felt his restraint slip away as he tossed you on the bed.

“Please,” you moaned, parting your legs like some common whore. “use me—ruin me, please.”

Le Chiffre had enough. He didn't waste time, ripping the dress to shreds and tossing its littered pieces everywhere. Cold hands groping you everywhere, acting like numbing gel to your fiery skin. He rid you of your panties too, prying your thighs open and exposing your sweet cunt to him.

The man brought his head down to your thighs, nuzzling it between them. His hands gripping each thigh tightly, fingers dipping into the flesh. “Look at your little hole clenching around nothing but air. How fucking embarrassing and disgusting.”

You responded with a whine, both hands dropping down to grab onto his neatly done hair.

He blowed air on your clit, watching it twitch and he chuckled. You were fucking pathetic and small and weak. All at his mercy and right now he could do whatever he wished to do with you. Humiliate you, hurt you, ruin you, fuck you. Just a doll for him to play with.

In a moment of regained control of your morals, you started to punch at his shoulders to move him away from you. Torn between the desperate chase for pleasure and the despair that awaited you at the end of this debauchery.

Le Chiffre didn't like how you still fought off the effects of the drug.

Releasing your thigh, he grasped both your wrists in a tight hold and pressed them over your stomach. “Enough. Don't fight it unless you want me to call in every guard outside so they can see you like this.”

Your act of defiance fell apart.

He ran his wet tongue over the slit of your cunt and your breath hitched, body twitching and back rising from the mattress. Striking you across your thigh, he pushed it up and bent your knee. Exposing more of your cunt to him. “Stay still.”

“C-Can’t. Feels too good.” You whimpered out, wrists struggling in his hold. You wished to be free, to kick and throw your hands everywhere. A pathetic mess of hopelessness and sin you were, sprawled across the bed for him to unfurl.

He chuckled against your cunt, before closing his lips around your clit. He sucked on it with vigor as you felt his sharp teeth nearly prickle the sensitive bud. Due to the drug, your body's sensitivity and senses had heightened, twitching in his hold everytime he touched you in the slightest.

You stared at him and in return he did the same, his scarred eye only fueling the ache in your abdomen. He was truly a beautiful man, the most attractive man you'd ever seen but his deeds were as ugly as his insides. There he laid before your very legs, using his skilled tongue to pull you into a deeper abyss.

Le Chiffre unwrapped his lips around your clit as his tongue made its way past your wet folds, plunging inside your hole. Tears rolled down your face as you attempted to free yourself from the restraint his hand was around your wrists.

“Wanna hold your hair, please. Just wanna hold it.” You were a sputtering mess and the man found you quite innocent in that very moment but he knew you were also a brat who'd given him a hard time. “You want to hold my hair, hm? You pathetic little whore. Want to hold my hair as I eat your little cunt while my men torture your uncle downstairs?”

Intaking a sharp breath, you didn't know what to do. As if his actions weren't already disgraceful, his words made you feel sick too. You whimpered for him, a simple plea to be freed and Le Chiffre grinned, slowly retracting his hands. The second he did, your fingers found themselves entangled between his dark silky locks. His intimidating eyes swallowing you whole as he continued his ministrations.

You could feel yourself near.

Stomach flipping and twisting into crazy knots, thighs suffering from convulsions. He only admired the view before him — a beauty with flushed, rosette cheeks and perspired forehead staring back at him. He ate you out like there was no tomorrow, a night that was his last. His saliva with a mix of your arousal falling down his chin.

“You taste so good, doll. Fucking delicious against my tongue.” He grunted, fucking you with his rigid tongue.

And you soon reached your own end, back arching off the bed and a high pitched scream tearing through your chest. Your throat parched and dry from all the sounds you'd made. Le Chiffre watched you as you became more of a mess underneath him, your arousal coating his tongue.

He licked you up like a dog, panting and melting in the taste your little body had to offer. Hands holding you down against the bed, he took in the sight of your eyes meeting the back of your skull and your body falling apart.

And when you'd came down from your blissful high, you found the ache in your pussy to only grow more intense. In need of something, something that only Le Chiffre could offer you.

In a few seconds, the man had hastily stripped himself naked. When your blitzed gaze fell lower and you grasped the sheer size of his cock — it dismayed you. In an attempt to run from him, you tried to slid off the soft mattress but Le Chiffre was quick to grasp your legs, tugging you closer to him. Until he was settled between your thighs, both hands holding your knees apart.

“Getting kidnapped and the idea of torture doesn't scare you but the size of my cock does? How fucking ironic.” Le Chiffre chuckled, firmly locking you in place.

He brought his hand upto your mouth. “Spit.”

You shook your head, stubborn. Torn between the ache of your cunt and the guilt about your uncle, you fought an inner battle inside you. Your body craved him but your mind reminded you just who he was, what he'd done to you and your uncle.

Just how evil he was.

He let out a groan of frustration, his fingers entangling in your dark locks as he gripped on the roots. “Fucking spit.”

You whimpered at the harsh tug and gathered saliva in your mouth, before spitting a glob out on his open palm. Le Chiffre hummed in satisfaction and ran the wet palm over his cock, lubricating it. You stared at him with hooded eyes as rubbed his fat cockhead against your clit — before entering you in one, harsh thrust.

A loud high pitched moan tore through you, the painful stretch surging your body forward.

He told hold of one thigh and hiked it up, bending your knee to angle his cock deeper inside you. The position gave him access to more depth of your gummy tight walls and the man growled, loving the feeling how you'd clamped down on him.

Walls clinging to him in desperate. Cunt trying to suck his cock, to consume him whole. Tears emerged on your waterline, tear ducts nearly expoding as Le Chiffre allowed you to grow used to his size. His delicious girth stretched you out like no other as your hips writhed underneath him.

He pushed until he had completely pressed his pelvis against yours. Becoming one with you.

“One might think you're a virgin from how fucking tight you are.” He grunted, staring down at you. Once neatly done hair now a mess, few strands slipping through the grasp of gel and hovering over his wet sweaty forehead.

Le Chiffre started to snap his hips against yours, holding you down as he took you against your will. Your perpetual cries and struggles loud and reverberating through the corners of the luxurious room. You tried to hit him — hands messily attempting to deliver a few smacks to his bare chest.

So he grabbed both your wrists and forcefully slammed them down, restraining you against the mattress. His one perfect eye holding all the anger and frustration that he soon was going to take out on you.

“Even the drug can't take the bratty behavior out of you.” Le Chiffre groaned, sliding in and out if you. “Your little pussy is soaked and throbbing for me but you still want to show off your morals.”

You sniffled at his words and he watched as a lone tear slid down. You looked so sinful and the man was not going to release you anytime sooner. He had big plans for you, especially now that he'd figured you were related to his nemesis.

Poor girl caught up in their evil games.

“I-I hate you.” You said, through broken moans and ragged breaths. Le Chiffre genuinely found it amusing when you'd expressed your hatred for him. It only added fuel to his desire, his thrusts going more vigorous as he stepped his foot up on the bed.

Both his hands flew to your throat — circling around to cut off your air supply. Your fists banged over his chest, at his arms and wrists but you were extremely pathetic against the man. Grip tightening with each second, he admired the way your face slowly turned almost a pale hue of blue. Back arching off the bed and body struggling.

Then he released you.

Just when your lungs had swelled up in dire need of oxygen, veins going numb.

“Wish I could kill you.” Le Chiffre moaned, hands still decorating your throat in bruises as the brute force of his strokes hit your sensitive spot. Feeling his thick cockhead repeatedly slam into your gspot and everytime he did, your body jerked. “But you're so much more useful like this. Killing you would be a waste of a good cunt.”

You loathed the way he spoke to you like you were some whore.

Face drenched in sweat and tears, your stomach heated up with a feeling that you deeply tried to suppress. Le Chiffre felt you grip his cock like a vice, realizing that you were hear. As was he.

His animalistic like thrusts continued delivering into you, and you sobbed whenever a vein of his cock throbbed inside you. It was all too vivid and raw. You could feel things that you were sure you wouldn't under a normal setting. The drug he'd used had heightened your senses and you hated just how good Le Chiffre was making you feel.

His hand unwrapped your throat, slipping between your legs to run over your swollen little bud. Your thighs twitched as he pounded into you, all while forcefully pulling an orgasm out of you.

Soon you came all over him — body twitching and trembling. He'd fucked your orgasm out of you, watching as you made a mess everywhere. Creaming all over his cock and the sight made him spill too, coating your walls with his thick seed. Your eyes rolled back and your lips shuddered, falling agape.

“Yeah there it is. Little cunt is so fucking tight, so very fucking tight.” He rode out his own release, with endless grunts and growls of pleasure. It only acted as an addition to your need for him.

He looked so attractive.

While he sinned inside you.

Le Chiffre grunted, fucking his cum back into you and by this point you were too far gone into oblivion. You allowed it to happen, frail body a victim of dehydration and the dehumanizing act done by Le Chiffre was too overwhelming so you didn't register it. Blocked it away and went numb.

He stared down at you, hand slowly reaching for your face. You flinched, expecting something rough or a hit even but instead came a gentle stroke from his thumb over your soaked cheek. “You're absolutely gorgeous, especially like this.” He licked the tear he collected on his thumb, before pulling out of you and dropping besides you.

Your breathing was torn, gradually becoming even with time. You turned away from him, not caring about anything anymore. You'd missed your uncle, and such a simple relationship lead to this. If you'd known, you would've always steered clear of James Bond and the people around him.

In a way, you deemed it to be your fault too.

“You didn't know, did you?”

Le Chiffre’s deep voice broke the silence, as a strong arm was tossed over you from behind.

You knew what he was referring to. Of course you didn't know your uncle was involved in some shady shit like this. If they had told you, if your mother had just been clear about all this, none of the monstrosities you faced tonight would've happened.

“Innocents often lose their lives amidst wars caused by others.” If you didn't know how cruel the man was, you would've assumed for a split second that these were words of reassurance but these were mere taunts — to remind you that he'd captured you.

You were leverage now.

For him.

[fidogo]

ghost x reader in a winter apocalypse au | wc: 1.4k | warnings: cannibalism mention, guns, vague predator/prey kink

part 1 part 2

damn 2 within hours cause my brain was pumping and with a header now

“You’re not going to eat me, right?” 

It’s a stupid fucking question to be asking this late into the night. Ghost stares at you, flames flickering his eyes. He keeps his skull mask on, making it extra difficult to deduce what his silence implies.

Something inside you told you to follow him. He hadn't hurt you, and you've got nothing left in your cabin. It sits empty right now, windows smashed, door torn off. All your hard work at making preserved and cured meats, down the drain. In the brief moment that Ghost began to walk away, you made a decision. Better to be traveling in a pack with a wolf than being hunted by one.

God, this was so impulsive of you. When he let you go, you should’ve hightailed it back to your run-down cabin. Instead, you've turned yourself into a pet, hoping to get fed off of scraps.

Ghost had built a fire effortlessly, his survival skills methodical and precise, clearly leagues better than you're own. But he introduced himself and let you sit at his fire anyway.

Up here, society had essentially collapsed when the freeze happened. Survival skills in the back of your mind prickle at Ghost being fine with you camping with him for the night. But then again, with how quickly he restrained you earlier, he knows you don't pose a threat to him.

Your stomach churns as you think, the woods silent save for the cracking of the fire, and the gentle calls of nocturnal birds.

There’s a chance Ghost might kill you still, or worse. He told you his name is Ghost for fucks sake. You felt the thickness of his body when he straddled you, pinning you to the snow. Felt the effortless strength that kept your bucking hips from freeing you. Felt the warmth lick its way up your body at the pressure and friction-

A piece of jerky lands at the snow by your feet.

You blink up at Ghost. His mask is partially pulled up to reveal a jaw covered in blonde stubble. There are deep gashes in them, scars that make you shiver. Shadows dance along his face, the pockmarks, and chunks of missing flesh slashing along his jaw in an ugly manner.

He chews on a larger slab of jerky, teeth gnashing into mystery meat. Fuck, you hope it’s not another person. Maybe he’s letting you stay so he can eat you later. Going to keep you safe and fed until he runs out of his current supply. Your muscles tense, seconds away from sprinting deeper into the everwinter woods when he speaks.

“‘ts cow. You can eat it.” His mouth is full, and he doesn’t even bother to look at you. You pick up the jerky, mentally cringing at how tough the meat is. It's hard to get through, nearly leather at this point, but at least it tastes like beef. You chew slowly, savoring the feeling of eating after a long day of stupidly tracking him.

“I don’t eat people,” Ghost says. You believe him, letting yourself relax a little. He’s still a threat, but he’s not a cannibal at least. 

“Except for pussy, I guess.”

You choke on a piece of your jerky, coughing unexpectedly. He fucking what? Your body heats up, and you stare at him, not entirely sure what to say. He’s already tugged his mask back down, and he gives you a look you can’t decipher.

You stare at the fire, jerky abandoned for now, and adrenaline pumping. You should've gone home when you had the chance.

"Why didn' ya use that?" You reluctantly look at your odd companion, your body somehow still too warm despite the ice-chilled air. You follow Ghost's gaze to your rifle. Oh. That.

Perhaps the only thing of objective value you still own (you're partial to the pictures tucked safely inside your dry bag). The rifle kept you alive. It was either learn to shoot or starve, so you learned.

"Never shot a person," you answer flatly. It was one thing to shoot a squirrel or a buck, but another human being? You feel heavy at the thought.

"Lucky then," Ghost grunts staring at you. He's not wrong. You know you had been fortunate to only come across the lone trader and not anyone worse. You think of the people who broke into your home and feel a wave of nausea. If you had been home...

You stare at your rifle.

"You've shot people?" you ask, already knowing the answer. He chuffs at you, sending you an incredulous look as if to say 'Of course I've shot people. How daft are you?'

Ghost sets up a little sleeping area too close to the fire, and pats a spot on his tarp next to him.

“C’mon. Too cold for ya to sleep without my body heat.” He’s wrong of course. Between the fire, your own little bedroll, and your parka, you’d be fine for one night.

You set your bedroll down by his anyway.

The plastic tarp he's placed will keep you further insulated from the snow. And a little extra body heat couldn’t hurt. When you let your eyes finally close, you pretend your thighs squeezing tight is to somehow maintain heat, and has nothing to do with you imagining the man behind you between your legs, scarred lips savoring the wetness of your cunt.

You wake up to sunlight streaming in your face. You wince, turning into your bedroll, trying to block out the light while your brain slowly reboots.

Ghost is already awake; you hear him packing up his gear already. The fire has almost completely died, nothing but smoldering embers left.

He pushes at your arm lightly, as if he was waiting to do so until you woke up on your own.

"Need ya to get up," he says, voice gruff but somehow still soft. Your sleepy mind puzzles over the contradiction. "Need to pack the tarp."

The logic makes sense to you, but you stay stone-still, focusing on the slight pressure of his hand stroking your arm through your parka. You wonder how his skin would feel against yours, warm and rough and demanding-

You practically jump up, thoughts propelling you into action. Ghost stares at you from where he's squatting. His gaze is pinning, and you feel as if you were a beetle stuck on its back. Fleshy underbelly exposed.

He eventually drags his eyes down to your bedroll, and then back to you. You huff a little, feeling embarrassed before you start to pack your things. Ghost rises to his full height, waiting.

"Going to the safe zone. You can come with me or not." He says it so casually as if it were normal.

The nearest safe zone was maybe a week or two away by walking. It's dangerous; this territory's full of large predators, cannibals, and weirdos in general. Not to mention the weather itself...

But he seems like a man who could make it, someone who knows what he's doing. And he just offered you a get out of jail free card.

You stare up at him. Frozen, as little snowflakes begin to swirl in the air. They land on his eyelashes, dusting his white camo jacket.

Your eyes widen slightly, as it finally clicks that he's probably military. Or some crazy doomsday prepper who happened to correctly guess "snowpocalypse." Regardless, better to stick with the predator at the top of the food chain.

Another thought bubbles to the front of your mind: he didn't try anything with you. He had talked about eating pussy and then had his thick body huddled against yours for warmth and....nothing.

You should feel elated at that, but something hollow rings through you. A hungry emptiness; you shove it deep down. You cannot afford to give those aches any legitimate thought.

"I'll go with you." You nod at him, a nervous smile tugging at the corners of your lips. You turn back to your bedroll, packing it up as quickly as you can. Pangs of excitement jolt through you, your heart feeling light for the first time in a long time.

Ghost grunts in acknowledgment.

"A'right then. Gotta feed yourself though. Can ya do that?" he asks, and you can see his eyebrow raise in question. He's not going to hold your hand through this, not going to carry you to the safe zone.

You nod at him, glancing at your rifle. This is your best chance, and you've hunted a few critters over the last 8 years, what's a few more for a week or two.

You were finally going to the city.

[vxlentinescookies]

Can I have red velvet x autistic!reader fic? Like maybe y/n is obsessed with cakehounds but they can be overstimulating so red velvet catches y/n petting cakehounds while trying to tough out the barks...aaaand red velvet comes to save the day? Lol!

→ ❛Double edged sword❜

→ Pairing ; Red Velvet Cookie x Autistic!Reader → Quote ; ❛❛And he knew that he’d do anything to keep you safe no matter what.❜❜ → Genre ; Slice of Life → A/N ; Sorry for the delay, but here it is! Hope you like it

Love can be such a precious thing. Sometimes we love out of wanting someone to hold onto, sometimes we love out of wanting to be appreciated, nonetheless, we all love for different reasons, and perhaps, the most important is loving because we want to love, because we want to feel such a lovely feeling.

Today, for example, was much like any other day, being with your partner as you spoke about your current fixations, your mind going from place to place as you spoke and he listened. Of course, Red Velvet would always be happy to listen to you speak your heart out of the things you loved and appreciated, but as you spoke more and more, he noticed a little thing.

You were petting one of his cake hounds much like you tended to do, but the thing is, the little one didnt stop a second to stay quiet, no, in fact, it was quite the opposite. They were barking, barking like their life depended on it. It was a loud sound, too loud truly, so much that your speech had become shaky and your hands had become shaky as well.

Having been looking away from you, Red Velvet hadnt noticed until, when he turned around, he saw you, shaking while petting one of his cake hounds as the little thing barked and barked. It was clearly overstimulating you and there was no way that Red velvet was going to let that slide. 

“Beloved!” He’d say, running right by your side as if to hold your hands in his, allowing you to let go of the cake hound who ran out into god knows where, that much wasnt important, at least not to him. “You’re overstimulated…”

“N-No” You whined, but it was clear you were, in fact, overstimulated. “I just, wanted to pet one of your cake hounds… they bring me comfort…”

“I know, but you know that you shouldnt put yourself in line for them” He’d say, gently, a hand now running to brush hair out of your face as your eyes lost focus, darting from place to place. “Here, how about I sit with you for a while and we try to come down?”

“Ok…”

As so, you’d sit by Red Velvet’s side, leaning into his shoulder as he held you, but didnt do more as to not add more stimuli into your ambient. The distant noise of the barking had become blank noise, and the breathing of Red Velvet had become a constant easy enough to carry, that you tried to mimic your breathing with his. He only stayed there, by your side, sitting down and looking around as if to gauge any other plausible danger—There wasnt, it was a fairly calm day, but you could never be too sure.

“How do you feel?” He’d ask, still, when you seemed to have come down from your high, looking around with certain tiredness. “Better?”

“Mhm…” You’d answer, coming closer to him.

And he’d welcome you, gladly into his arms, kissing your forehead as you looked around before noticing something that had called your attention, butterflies. And then, there you went on again, suddenly energized (albeit not too much), you started speaking about butterflies and them as insects. Red Velvet would sigh at first, before smiling and nodding along, right, you loved speaking your heart out and that was part of why he loved you so much. 

And he knew that he’d do anything to keep you safe no matter what.

[miserable-sarah]

I Care 18+

Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: NSFW, smut, 18+, fingering, oral (F), mentions of blood, bad language, unprotected sex, praising. Requested: Heyyy, idk of ur requests are open but if they are can u please write a dean Winchester x ex girlfriend smut who is a hunter and who dean is still not over. Sam and Dean rescue her from a vampire nest and dean is angry and worried after her and she's all like "stop acting like you care" and he says something like "I'll show u how much I care" + angst + kinda enemies x lovers + dark dean? + marking ; ( set in early seasons llke;1,2,3) A/N: I did make a few changes, let me know if you enjoy it! Thanks!

~

You've been hunting down this nest of vampires for a while. It was a big nest, bigger than you've ever seen. It's a hard job alone but you're confident enough in yourself to do it.

Well at least that's what you thought, you see you went into the nest killing almost all of the vampires that were there. You somehow missed calculated the amount. You got taken down and now you're tied up with no way out. You are dreading this, you have no one coming to save you. You're not scared, you're angry. you're mad that they caught you, and mad that you can't get out by yourself. You don't want to be turned into a vampire or have all of your blood drained from your body. So this sucks. You can hear the vamps talking about something they're too quiet to make anything out.

"Hey! Are you guys gonna do anything with me or?" You ask getting annoyed, you'd rather just die now. They just ignore you of course. So you start singing at the top of your lungs to annoy them, they have "super hearing", you know it bothers them. You continue for a couple minutes until someone, you're assuming the head vamp, comes over to you right in your face.

"Shut up!" He yells in your face "I'll kill you right now!" Just as you were about to say something, you hear a commotion. The head vampire cuts your stomach making you wince, then he leaves without saying a word.

"Aw come on, don't leave me here." You say in a stale tone. "We were having fun." you add. After a couple minutes, you don't hear anything.

"Well, well, look at who we have here."

"Oh, fucking kill me." You mumble to yourself.

"Couldn't handle the nest?" Dean smirks at you. You don't say a word just ignore him. "A thank you would be nice."

"Dean, leave her alone." Sam says to him, Sam comes over to you and unties you.

"Thank you, Sam." You smile at him. You glare at Dean.

"Are you alright?" Dean drops his tough guy act.

"Fine." You say sternly, you walk away from the boys trying to leave the building. You however, weren't fine. You were bleeding and had no idea.

"You're bleeding pretty bad." Dean says to you.

"It's fine, it's nothin-" You look down and see what he's talking about. You're covered in blood. You lift up your shirt and see a huge cut on your stomach. "Oh no." You feel dizzy and then Dean's arms around you as you fall.

~

You wake up in a motel room, not unusual.

"Dean?" You say softly looking around the room.

"Hey, you okay?" He answers, he sits next to you placing his hand on your back.

"Yeah, fine. Thanks." You mumble. You stand up even though your stomach is in pain.

"You should relax for at least a few more hours."

"Nah, I'm good." You say looking around for your things.

"Y/n, I'm serious." Dean says to you in a frustrated tone.

"Dean, I don't care. I'm fine."

"Y/n! Sit down!" He gets angry with you.

"No!" You yell, you have to hold back a wince. He's right you are hurt but you're not going to sit in a room with your ex boyfriend because you're hurt. You can recover somewhere else.

"You're hurt. Something can happen to you!"

"Oh and now you care?" You roll your eyes. "Stop acting like you care."

That was it for Dean. He stood up and got right in your face. "You don't think I care, huh?" He chuckled at you. "I'll show you how much I care." He said with promise. Dean smashes his lips on yours, at first it took you by surprise but you came around to it very quickly. You kiss back but then pull away.

"Dean what are you doing?" You say trying to push him away but he doesn't budge. "We can't, I mean we broke up. It's been months-"

Dean has been on your mind since you two broke up. It was over something stupid, literally so stupid you don't even remember what it was about. You were in love with Dean, well you still are. He treated you like a princess, but like a bad ass princess. He was your safe place and you were his. When you broke up it just so happened to also be a really bad time in his life and he needed to leave. So he did, you two never got to fix what was broken.

"Stop talking." Dean interrupts you. You go to say something else, Dean cuts you off by kissing you, again. This time you immediately kiss back. You slide his jacket off and tug at his shirt. He breaks the kiss to lift his shirt off. Your hands run down his muscular body. You almost moan in excitement.

Dean carefully took off your shirt, trying not to hurt you. He unclipped your bra and tossed across the room. His hands gently massaged your breasts, you let out a little whine. You've been so needy for him it's pathetic. Dean picks you up effortlessly and drops you on the bed. He unbuttons your jeans and slides them off your body, you can feel yourself getting wet with anticipation. Dean hovers over your body he kisses you softly, then your neck, down to your chest, then down your stomach and all the way to your panty line.

"Dean, please" You beg quietly. You hear Dean chuckling.

"Patience sweethheart." He says as he slowly takes off your panties. He kisses up your legs to thighs incredibly slowly. You groan in frustration Dean ignores your frustration.

"Please!" You beg louder.

"Look at how wet you are." He smiles at you "All for me?" He smirks.

"Yes" You moan softly.

Dean finally enters a finger in you, you moan in relief. He watches your face making sure you're enjoying it, he enters another finger and thrusts them deep curving his fingers to make sure he hits your g-spot. You moan louder at the feeling, it's been months since you've been with Dean, well anyone for that matter. Dean always knew what to do to please you though, he just knew your body so well.

"You like that baby?" He asks, you nod and moan "Words" He says

"Yes, Dean." You say softly.

"Good girl." He smirks at you. Dean dips his head between your thighs, you feel his tongue directly on your clit.

"Oh my god." You let your head hit the bed and close your eyes. Dean continues to pump his fingers in and out of you while his tongue dances around your clit. It feels so amazing. You start to buck your hips, he puts his arm around your hips to hold you down.

He adds a third finger stretching you out for him. You moan and whine, it feels good but you want him. All of him.

"Dean, please" You pant. He ignores you, he keeps sucking and licking your clit. "please." you whimper. He still doesn't listen. Your legs are shaking and you try to squeeze your thighs together but Dean won't let you. Your moans become more desperate. "Feels so good" He keeps going he can tell your close by the way you're squeezing his fingers.

Your buck your hips up, you let out a loud moan, your vision goes blurry and you see stars. Dean slowly pulls his fingers out, you look down at him out of breath. He licks his lips then smiles at you.

"You taste good." He slowly crawls up to your face and kisses you. You kiss back and pull him closer. You reach your hand down his stomach and realize he's taken off his jeans. You palm him through his boxers, he lets out a groan. Dean takes your hand and puts it down his boxers you take his invitation and pump his cock slowly. Dean kisses and bites your neck. You pull your hand out and pull his boxers down springing him free. He moans at your movements.

You tried moving to get on top of Dean but he stopped you. "You're hurt. Let me take care of you." he says kissing your forehead. He lightly brushes his hands down your body to your legs, he places them around his waist. He lines himsef up with you and slowly enters you. You and Dean let out a loud moan. "You feel so good." He says through his teeth. "So nice and tight."

"You're so big." You arch your back.

"I've missed you." He says he leans down and kisses you, you kiss back. He rests his forehead on yours, in this moment everything feels right. It feels like everything is going to be okay. You've missed this feeling.

"You're doing so good, taking all of me." Dean praises "Such a good girl." His words make you weak.

"You feel so good." you moan. Dean switches positions he leans up and places your legs on his shoulders, deepening his thrusts. You moan louder, so does he. His grunts and groans are getting more frequent.

"Damn baby, I've missed this pussy." He brings his fingers to your clit and starts rubbing "I can't believe this is all mine. Only mine."

"Yes, all yours."

"I know." He mumbles. Dean continues to rub your clit causing your legs to shake. You whimper and try to move around. "I know baby, I know." He coos at you. "Feels so good, huh?" You nod. "Words." He reminds you.

"Y-yes." You stutter "So good." He's so focused on pleasing you, his hair is messy, his body is glistening, his grunts and groans are filling the room along with your moans. You can feel your whole body shaking, your walls are clenching around him.

"Damn baby you're squeezing me so tight." Dean moans. His thrusts get deeper and faster. "Are you going to cum for me?"

"Yes" You moan "Feels so good."

"I know, you feel so good too." He groans. "I'm not going to last long with you squeezing me like that."

"I'm gonna-"

"Go ahead baby, cum for me." His fingers rub faster on your sensitive clit, with every thrust he hits your g-spot, his words are ringing through your head. Your body starts twitching, your legs shaking, you close your eyes tight, you try to scream but nothing comes out. Dean helps you ride out your orgasm, soon after you feel him fill you up. He lightly presses his body on yours and catches his breath.

You wrap your arms around Dean and hold him. He kisses your shoulder a few times before rolling off you. "Uh, let me clean you up." He says awkwardly. Dean gets up and grabs some clean towels he cleans you up then cleans himself up. "I'll change your bandage too."

"Dean." You grab his arm. "Just come lay down."

"But-"

"Please." You cut him off. He nods and lays down next to you, you move yourself so you're laying your head on his chest. "I've missed you." You look up at him.

"Me too." He says softly "Sorry-"

"Dean. It's okay. I know you had to go." You cut him off. "I'm sorry I never got to apologize."

"I know." He pulls you a little closer to him.

You're not sure what will happen next, you're hopeful it'll work out between you two. You both have a lot of love for each other, if it's meant to be it will be. But for right now all you want to do is enjoy your night with Dean Winchester.

[sports-on-sundays]

I’m sorry Ik request are closed but o really need a part 2 of Lando and Oscar

one for two / LN4 & OP81 / Part 2

Summary: Lando x female!Australian!McLaren marketing unit worker!reader x childhood best friend!Oscar - The drama ensues. Two Formula 1 drivers who just so happen to race for McLaren also just so happen to have fallen for you. Picks up straight after where part 1 left off. Takes place from Monaco GP 2024 to Spanish GP 2024. Short time frame, but a lot happens.

Warnings: mention of vomiting, crying, "I'll kill you" joke, swearing, very slight innuendo, if I missed anything let me know

Requested?: Yes, by this anon, everyone who answered in the poll in a way, and by @gracielukey

Author's Note: part 3!!!

“Wait, Y/n, one second-” you hear behind you as a hand wraps itself around your arm. You look back to see Oscar Piastri beaming at you with a smile worth a ton of gold on his face. He’s out of his race suit and now back in regular street clothes: a black t-shirt, blue jeans, and an expensive black watch on his wrist. “I still haven’t given you your birthday gift yet.”

Oh, yeah, that’s right.

Earlier, when both McLaren boys had snatched each of your hands, pulling you in separate directions, both thoroughly excited to show you whatever gift they’ve gotten for you for your birthday, which just so happens to be today, the Monaco Grand Prix, you had shook them both off and waved them on to go do their PR duties.

For once in your life, as someone who is in marketing in McLaren, you got to do a fraction of your actual job concerning the two drivers, and not play the part of both their dramatic love interest.

Yet here you are again, looking back at a handsome Australian boy with earnest brown eyes, waiting for you to come with him so you can see your present.

You sigh, smiling. “Alright, Oscar. Show me this present of mine.”

He leads you to his driver’s room, where he holds the door for you to follow him in, and gently shuts it.

You have a jolting memory of the last time you were led into a driver’s room and the door was shut behind you, and the driver was saying he had something for you. It had been Lando’s driver’s room in Miami, after he won the race, and, well, you’ll never forget what the gift he had for you had been.

Lando’s kiss.

Though it didn’t really change anything at all, it seemed to change absolutely everything.

And now, just standing here, watching Oscar rummage around in his piles and bags of contained mess, you can’t help yourself from blushing as the memory floods back to you.

Oscar snaps you out of your dreams, though, when he straightens, holding up a small box that fits in his palm and a white envelope, and says, “Here… Don’t know if it’s your type of thing, but…”

“Jewelry?” you raise your eyebrows, eyeing the box.

He nods. “I don’t see you wearing jewelry a whole ton, but I thought you might really like this, regardless.”

You smile. “Usually I save it for special occasions, but I like wearing jewelry. Now, let’s see this card here…” He hands it to you, and you open it up. Oscar watches you intently as you begin reading his not-too-messy, not-too-neat handwriting.

Dear Y/n,

I just want to take this opportunity to say how much I appreciate you. You, as a person. Everything about you, I love. Your teasing, your jokes, your playfulness. Your hard work and dedication. You’re so understanding and kind. I love how gentle you are, yet also tough. You’re the perfect balance, for me and for anyone. You have the softest, most beautiful, caring heart, but a tough skin, too, and you can hold your own. You’re so strong and capable, too. I admire you in so many ways.

I love being with you. Time spent with you is my favorite time. Whether we’re just laying or sitting somewhere together, basking in each other’s silence and simply company, or going out somewhere, exploring someplace, and experiencing something together. I love it. I adore it. I love being with you.

Sometimes, I think about when we were little kids. I think about how we’d sit together and whine about how hard it is to be an older sibling, or how this or that rule by our parents was stupid. I remember playing with you, exploring. Even then, Y/n, we were forming a bond, and I think it’s beautiful. I hope we stay like this forever. Together.

I just want to be with you.

I remember as I got older and I moved, I missed you so much. So, so much. We stayed in touch, but you don’t know how much was missing without you always by my side. It’s like in a way you complete me.

I’m so glad that fate and time and whatever else all worked together that today, right now, you can be with me, on your twenty-third birthday. Twenty-three years, Y/n, I’ve known you. You’ve been my best friend. Somehow, we always keep running into each other. Like as if time and space and the universe knows we’re meant to be with each other, for each other, and it won’t let us be separated for too long. Like me and you have a magnet.

I love it, Y/n, and I hope you do, too.

I also love how beautiful you are. Your stunning eyes when they look straight into mine. The way you look over your shoulder and wink teasingly. The way your eyebrows scrunch together when you’re working hard or trying to figure something out. The way you flip your hair, the way you walk, the way you talk, the way you laugh, and the way your touch feels; I love every single little ‘way’ about you. You are it, everything I want. I don’t know what you feel, but I know that for years, I knew it.

I knew I’m supposed to be with you.

If you don’t think so, that’s okay. But just know what I know. Because for years I was terrified to say it, but now, I know.

I know this, Y/n:

I love you. I always have, and I always will.

Yours truly, Oscar Jack Piastri 5/26/24

As you read the last words, you feel a lump forming in your throat as you softly gasp, “Oscar…”

“I’m sorry if it’s a bit over the top,” he says right away with a slightly nervous chuckle. “I don’t mean to seem sappy. I should have just left it at ‘happy birthday’...”

“No, no-”

“I just had a lot to say, I guess,” Oscar mutters, glancing down. “A lot to say, to make up for the years of staying silent.”

“Oh, Oscar, stop!” you laugh, your voice cracking as you suddenly throw your arms around him in a tight embrace. You feel your eyes begin to water as you squeeze them shut tightly and bury your head in his shoulder, murmuring, “This is the sweetest thing I’ve ever read, Osc… You’re going to make me cry…”

As you hug him, it’s like a weight is lifted off his shoulders. He wraps his arms around you back, his hand slowly, absently beginning to rub your back.

You sniff a bit, whispering close to his ear, “That’s just about the most beautiful thing I’ve read… Oscar, I- I, um… I-” love you, too, your brain screams, begging your lips to form the words. You love him, Y/n. You know you do. Just say the words. Just say them.

But you finish with, “I- Thank you so much, Oscar. Thank you.”

He nods, resting his cheek on your head for a few seconds, before murmuring, “Why don’t you open the gift now?”

You nod, slowly leaning away. You mop up your eyes with your hands before taking the box. You slowly open it and gasp when you see a sparkling green gemstone inside, attached to a golden chain. “Oscar…” you breathe. “It’s beautiful…” You slowly begin taking it out of the box.

“Emerald, for May, on a gold necklace chain.”

You stop taking it out of the box to freeze and look up in surprise, eyes wide. “Real emerald? Real gold?!”

“Yes,” Oscar chuckles. “Yes, Y/n. It’s a real emerald on a real gold chain.”

Your jaw drops as you blubber, “Oscar… Oh my God, Oscar… you didn’t have to…”

“I think you’ve forgotten I can afford it. And I would spend any amount of money, if it was for you. But do you like it?”

“What do you mean?!” you exclaim. “What sort of question is that? Of course I like it! I love it!”

At that, the young McLaren driver immediately beams. “Here- want me to put it on you?” You nod vigorously, so Oscar takes the necklace gently from your hands and reaches around your neck to clasp it on you. You feel his soft hands briefly brush the skin of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine, before he takes them away and leans back to view you. “It looks lovely on you. Compliments your features.”

“You really think so?”

He grins with a soft chuckle. “Y/n, I know so.”

Once you’re done sitting with Oscar for a bit after that, just being with him, you exit his driver’s room into the hallway with a tired but contented sigh. You tuck Oscar’s note and the box the necklace came in into your pants pocket, about to get going and continue on with your life, when, once again, you’re interrupted.

You suddenly feel two strong arms wrapping around you from behind as the scent of Lando’s cologne fills your nostrils. He leans close to your ear, rocking you a bit, before murmuring in a gentle, concerned voice, “Hey, Y/n… How are you?”

You smile softly, feeling his warmth against your back. “I’m alright,” you sigh, your head still slightly in the clouds about Oscar’s note and gift.

Lando unwraps his arms from around you and gently guides you by your shoulders to turn around and face him. “What were you doing, hm?” he suddenly asks softly.

“What do you mean?” you ask, eyebrows furrowing.

“In Oscar’s driver’s room. I saw you leave.” His tone is in no way accusatory. Just genuinely concerned.

“Nothing,” you frown, licking your lips. “Why do you care?”

He crosses his arms, the concern mostly falling off his face now as he says simply, reaching up to drag his thumb under your eye, “Because of this.” He holds up his thumb to show the chalky smeared mascara on it. “And because of the redness around your eyes. Are you okay?” The concern comes flooding back as he lifts his other hand to gently touch your cheek. “Did something happen? Did Oscar do something? Y/n, you know you can tell me. You know you can trust me.”

But you can’t help yourself but chuckle. In a way, it’s sweet how caring and worried Lando is acting, looking out for you like that. But also kind of funny that Lando thinks Oscar Piastri even has the capacity to do you any harm, at least not on purpose. So you say, “No, no, Lando! Don’t worry! I’m not upset! Those were happy tears!”

Lando doesn’t look much less concerned, though. “What made you so happy?” he asks carefully.

You sigh, figuring there’s no reason to not tell Lando, at least partially the truth. “Oscar just gave me a super sweet birthday gift is all.”

“Oh,” Lando nods slowly. “What was it?”

You smile and point at the necklace hanging around your neck, resting perfectly in the middle of your chest. “This…”

“Oh,” Lando says again, this time more impressed, looking down at it. “That… It looks beautiful on you.”

You smile wider. “Thanks.”

But then the British man swallows. “I know you’re probably tired and wanting to get back to your hotel room, but I have a gift for you, too.”

“Just make sure it’s not a kiss this time,” you softly tease. “I don’t think my heart can take it right now.”

“No, no, of course not. I actually bought you something for your birthday!” the Brit chuckles, his hand naturally falling to the small of your back as he leads you to his driver’s room. He keeps the door hanging open, though, and you’re sure that’s intentional, to give you more of a sense of reassurance. You appreciate it. “Alright!” he says, clapping his hands together. “Close your eyes and hold out your hands.” You shrug and obey, doing so. You feel him place some light, small item in your hand, before he says, “Alright! Open!”

You chuckle as you open your eyes, teasing, “What was the point of having me close my eyes?”

“So it was a surprise! Now look at what I got you, for God’s sake, Y/n!” he rolls his eyes jokingly.

You look down at the little card in your hand, shaped like a credit card. You bring it to your face and study it, until your eyes widen when you recognize what it is. “Lando, is this…?”

He grins broader as he sees the sparkle in your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. It is.”

“You didn’t have to!” you laugh. A gift card for a free weekend to a luxury spa. You’ve often told Lando how nice it’d be to have a spa day, just relaxing and letting the weight off your shoulders.

But you weren’t expecting it as a birthday gift! And you definitely weren't expecting some expensive luxurious place, and for a whole weekend!

“And,” he smiles, reaching in his pocket to pull out a second, identical card which he places in your hand, too, “A second one, because I figured it’d be no fun alone, so you could bring one of your girl friends or something.”

You throw your arms around Lando and peck his cheek, which is a lot more of an easy thing to do with Lando than it is with Oscar. Oscar, you’re more emotionally connected with. But physically and romantically, you’re a lot more connected to Lando. Lando giggles as you exclaim, “How’d you even think to do this?”

He shrugs. “You talk about it. And you work constantly, so damn hard, you deserve a break. You don’t get enough credit for all you do. Take a weekend to just relax and enjoy, hm?”

You smile and shut your eyes, nuzzling your face into his neck, loving the sentiment, loving the gift, and loving Lando’s attitude in recognizing how hard you do work.

It feels so good to simply be appreciated.

The day after the Monaco Grand Prix, that Monday, Oscar texts you, asking you if you'd like the meet up before you have to go back to the U.K.

You're leaving tomorrow, so it had to be a yes.

Now you sit next to Oscar in his car, in the parking lot, as you buckle your seat belt and Oscar absently drums his fingers on the steering wheel.

Finally you break the silence with, "So, what's the plan, Stan?"

"Um..." Oscar begins, and just by one quick glance, you can see the deep thought written across his face as he looks forward out the windshield.

And you're right. The Aussie's thoughts are raging, about only one thing. And that thing, of course, being you.

He bites his lip, feeling a pang of slight desperation, but mostly just indescision.

He thought the nice note he wrote you for your birthday would've... given more of a reaction. Or maybe the necklace would've pulled at your heartstrings a little more. Just... Just a hug felt wrong to Oscar.

Why doesn't she love me back?

I whisper of a thought in his mind responds, Maybe it's got to do with Lando. Maybe she just simply doesn't love you because she loves Lando more.

He swallows a lump in his throat, pushing that thought out of his mind with, No, Oscar. She said she's got nothing more with Lando than she's got with you. You need to trust her. You know you love her. Therefore, trust her.

Of course, naturally, Oscar has no idea that he really shouldn't trust you.

Prompted by his thoughts, Oscar suddenly asks you, ignoring your own question, "Did Lando get you anything for your birthday? Just asking, because, you know, he had said he had something...?"

"Oh, yeah!" you exclaim. Oscar can't help but recognize the way your face lights up at the mention of merely Lando's name. You continue, "He got me a free weekend to a spa for two people!"

"Oh. You're going to a spa with him?" Oscar says slightly absently.

You laugh. "No, he suggested probably one of my friends. Lando would've told me if he wanted to go."

"Ah, right. Of course."

"Oscar?" you suddenly say, concerned, leaning closer. You place your hand on top of Oscar's drumming fingers on the wheel, forcing the nervous movement to stop. "Is something wrong?"

"Hmmm..." he sighs. Oscar, you've just got to make a move. A real move. Lando is loud, impulsive, fun. He wouldn't second guess.

Maybe you should take a hint from Lando.

Maybe she just needs to see, feel, experience me.

That doesn't sound right.

That doesn't sound like me.

Oscar closes his eyes, leaning back, entwining his fingers around your hand.

I'm not Lando Norris. So is that it?

That's it. I'm just not Lando Norris.

But despite the proclamation in his head, he snaps himself out of it. "Just... thinking back on the race. Sorry."

"Are you sure you're okay, Osc?" you lean in, more concerned.

It's like Oscar can feel his heart being squeezed, warmed. And another, louder, sudden thought enters his mind:

You won't let her go, Oscar, and you know that. You'll fight for her. You'll change for her.

You'll never be Lando Norris, but maybe you've just got to quit overthinking and start acting.

"Alright!" he says, a quite sudden smile appearing on his face as he squeezes your hand. "Yeah, I'm sure." He smiles, bringing your hand to his mouth to gently kiss the back of it.

He doesn't really see the blush on your cheeks when he does that.

He lets go of your hand and says, "Alrighty, let's go. I've got somewhere to bring you."

When you get to the destination, you laugh. "Oscar, it's just a park! You made it seem like you had this big thing planned."

"Oh," he smiles a bit. "Well, sorry. Do you have something against parks?"

"No- I'm just saying-"

"Yes, sure, whatever." He suddenly snatches your hand as he says, "Let's just go for a nice walk."

It's not common for Oscar to just take your hand like that, so confidently. Lando? Sure, all the time. But not really Oscar...

But you kind of like it.

As you walk, you just chat, until you're sure you've walked the entirety of Monaco before Oscar finally gestures to a lone bench in a solitary area, and you sit down together, hands still latched.

But you let go of his, saying with a chuckle, "I just... You know, my hands are sweaty."

"Oh, sure, of course. Mine probably are, too," he responds, running a hand through his hair.

You watch him intently as he does this, and reply a few seconds too late, "Oh, no, no, they're not! I like your hands."

And you immediately blush at the fact you actually just told Oscar Piastri that.

But he looks over with that little crooked teasing smile of his and says, "Do you?"

You grin back and shrug. "Hell yeah."

"Hm. I'll keep that in mind, then."

That makes your mind immediately wander to what he could mean, and you feel bad for what you immediately think of.

Regardless, your face flushes.

And then Oscar makes the decision that he's wanted to make for months, and probably years. His twinkling eye meets yours as he says, "You like my hands? Well I like your lips."

Your breath catches and butterflies well up in your stomach as Oscar leans in closer. His hand gently cups your chin as he looks you straight in your eyes, his softening by the second.

In the exact moment that he should just lean in and kiss you, he hesitates and asks, "Is it okay if I-"

"Oscar! Yes!" you say without thinking.

Yeah, yeah. There you go again. Not thinking again, in the exact moments that you should think about it the most.

Oscar leans in, his head tilting to the side slightly as his soft lips meet yours. Your head spins as he strokes your cheek.

It's not too long and not too short. He pulls away, gazing warmly into your eyes.

There was something different about Oscar's kiss. Lando kissed you and kept kissing you, as if he couldn't get enough. Oscar stopped as soon as he knew it was the perfect time for both of you to pull away. Lando's kiss was hungry, Oscar's wasn't really. He enjoyed it, but...

You don't know.

Oscar's more romantic.

You feel simply by the way he looks at you...

You feel like a jewel. You feel beautiful.

Physically, Lando's kiss was probably better. But emotionally, Oscar's...?

You never knew Oscar could be this romantic. But, to be honest with yourself, Lando's kiss was hotter. Sexier.

God, you loved both.

You groan, falling into Oscar, throwing your arms around him.

Y/n! Y/n! You're comparing the kissing styles of the two guys you kissed without the other knowing!

They both think you're theirs!

"Are you okay?" Oscar immediately asks. "Listen, I'm sorry- Oh, God, listen-"

"No! Oscar, thank you..." you blurt shakily, leaning back to look at him.

"Uh... you're welcome..." He falters, before saying, "So... does this mean you want to be my girlfriend?"

Oh, God.

"Oh, uh, I don't think I'm ready for that- uh-" you begin nervously.

"Right," comes the brown eyed boy's curt response.

Oscar Piastri's vague clean scent fills your nostrils. Or perhaps it's the clean hotel sheets you lay in next to him. His soft touch massages your hand as you hum a song.

You know all the words, but you forgot the tune.

In another reality, he would kiss you and hold you and call you his. You would say without a fragment of a doubt that you are his girlfriend.

Like an arrow to your heart, his voice asks you once more: "Does this mean you want to be my girlfriend?"

You're leaning against his bare chest, listening to his heartbeat, British voice speaking but saying nothing, and you begin, "Oh, uh, I-"

You wake up with a start, gasping. The last thing you remember of your dream was laying with Lando, about to tell him you love him.

What the hell, Y/n?

“What’s up?” you ask as you answer your vibrating cellphone.

Lando Norris on the other end responds, “Nothing much. What’s up with you.”

“Dunno. Just packing up to get ready to be leaving Monaco. But why’d you call?”

“Hey, whoa, whoa,” Lando suddenly says. “Why’re you leaving Monaco so early? Come on, now!”

You sigh with a little smile, rolling your eyes as you throw another shirt in your suitcase. “Lando, this country is uber expensive. There’s no way I’m staying here any longer than I have to. The hotel price is ridiculous, and the rest of the team is leaving, anyway.”

Lando tsks before saying, “Come on, now. You won’t have to pay for a hotel room for extra days, you know. You can stay at my place, duh.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, Lando. You really want me to stay in Monaco.”

“Of course I do. But you know I’d let you stay at my place anytime.”

“Mmmhm. I know…”

“So? What do you say?” Lando asks.

You hesitate, before saying, "Lan, I already told the team I'd be leaving on the plane with them..."

“For God’s sake, Y/n, then tell them you’re not, check out of that damn hotel room, and c’mere!”

“Come where?!” you ask in slight exasperation.

“Where do you think? My flat!”

“Alright, alright, I’ll do that, jeez. Text me your address. But God, why are you getting so worked up about this?”

There’s more silence before the Monaco resident says softer, “I just really want to see you, is all.”

You raise your eyebrows and say softer as you zip up your suitcase. “That’s it?”

“Yeah,” he snorts. “Not good enough for you, princess?” he teases.

“No,” you breathe, a slight smile forming on your face as warmth spreads across it. “No, that’s perfectly, one hundred percent, all the way, good enough for me.”

“Good.” You can hear the grin in Lando’s voice. “Then I’ll see you in a bit, you beauty.”

When you arrive at his flat and he opens the door, Lando wraps his arms around you, patting your back, before letting you go. “Hey, wanna come to the living room?”

“Sure,” you nod, taking in the rooms you go through as he leads you to the living space. You’ve never been in Lando’s flat before, but you have to say, it is thoroughly impressive. Soon, you’re in the living room, and the two of you plop down on the couch together. You sink into it and lean back, saying, “This is comfy.”

Lando just takes your hand and says, “Thanks.”

But you look up at him with a soft teasing smile. “So, are you going to tell me why on earth you suddenly got so clingy? You’re acting like we haven’t seen each other in three years! Just as a reminder, it was just two days ago.”

But Lando smirks, shrugging, and says teasingly, “Maybe I’m just a little obsessed…?”

“Obsessed?” you smile wider, leaning your head onto his shoulder. “Oh, don’t flatter me.”

“Aw, why not? You’re cute when you’re blushing…”

“Lando, stop,” you snort, then add, “We’re supposed to be friends. I don’t think friends say this kind of shit to each other.”

“I like the way you say, ‘we’re supposed to be,’” the race car driver begins.

“Lando! We are friends, and that’s all we’ll ever be!” you respond firmer, but deep down, you have your doubts. Your extreme doubts. Because being with Lando, it never feels like a friendship anymore, and you both know everyday you get closer and closer to finally just admitting you’re dating.

And the only reason why you haven’t yet is because of the certain someone in the way. Oscar Piastri, the sweet Australian boy from your childhood and teenage dreams.

Who kissed you like he meant it yesterday at around this time.

You feel your stomach lurch at the thought.

How can I so shamelessly act like this with Lando, when I know twenty-four hours ago I kissed Oscar back?

You jump when Lando says, almost as if he could hear your thoughts, “Is something wrong?"

You look up in slight surprise, eyes wide. “Uh- of course not. Why do you ask?"

But Lando's frown deepens. "Y/n, stop that. You know I know you're lying. I can see it on your face when something is bothering you."

You bite your lip. "Nothing is."

Lando heaves a big sigh before suddenly pulling you into his lap.

You flinch and lean away in extreme embarrassment, "Lando, what-"

"Just let me hug you, hm? You always say you're fine when you're not and I just want to help you. Let me at least hug you."

You sigh deeply and slowly let yourself lean into him. He strokes your hairline gently, and begins rambling. Lando Rambling, but in a gentle whisper.

You swallow back the huge lump in your throat, and despite your squeezed shut eyes and your raging mind, it's nice.

Until Lando is gently shaking you, and your eyes flutter open as you realize you had fallen into a calm, dreamless sleep against him. You feel his soft, nearly heavenly chuckle vibrating in your ear before you lean your head off his chest slowly. "Rise and shine, princess. You went right to sleep."

You yawn. "Shit, sorry about that..."

But Lando beams. "It's okay. It was cute. And do you feel a bit better now?"

You sigh and nod. "Yeah. I do, actually."

"Good," he grins, eyes twinkling, and leans in to give you a kiss on your cheek. "You probably just needed a nice big long nap."

You sigh.

If only it was as simple as that, Lando.

When I'm with Oscar, he seems like the obvious choice. But then I'm with Lando and he's so sweet and caring and loving and understanding and lighthearted and fun and handsome and perfect and-

And then he seems like the obvious choice.

Oh, Oscar. I couldn't stand to break your heart of gold, though.

And suddenly you freeze as Lando seems to read your mind for a second time, his voice saying softly near your ear, "Is it okay if I call Oscar?"

You snap your head back to meet Lando's eyes. "What reason have you got to call Oscar...?"

“So he can come over.”

You stare at him like he’s the craziest man alive. “Come again?”

“So he can come over and join us, Y/n. But you heard me the first time.”

“What’s your problem?” you asked quite bluntly.

“What’s yours?”

You stare at Lando, completely at a loss for words. Feeling slightly called out, to be honest. You breath deeply, before, with much effort, finally forming the sentence under Lando’s expectant gaze, “Lando, you know that Oscar thinks we’re dating. Even though we’re obviously not. If Oscar shows up… Lando, there’s too much drama you don’t know about. That wouldn’t-”

Lando raises his eyebrows, unimpressed, and says, “I know more than you think I do.”

You swallow, anxiously licking your lips. “Why do you want Osc over?”

“I’ve got some things to talk about with you. And him. With the two of you.”

Your face scrunches up as you ask hopefully, “About work?”

“Nope,” Lando says sternly as he opens his phone, scrolling his contacts, looking for Oscar’s.

You’re starting to get nervous. Real nervous. “Lando, please,” you begin, your voice laced with a certain amount of fear as you take the man’s hand. “Lando, what are you trying to do? Why? Lando, I… I’m not ready… Can you talk to me first?”

Lando looks up at you. “You clearly know what I’m doing, then, otherwise you wouldn’t be so panicked.”

“Of course I do…” you breathe. How the hell did it come to this?

Why did I think Lando was stupider than this? To not see the writing on the wall? To not see what’s clear as day?

Lando leans in closer, wrapping both his hands around yours. He stares you straight in your eyes. Everything about his actions is gentle, but his voice is painfully stern as he begins nearly whispering, “Y/n. I’m sick of this, and Oscar is, too. And you’ve had enough of this, too, whether you think you have or you haven't. I understand to a certain degree what’s been going on, but I don’t think Oscar has allowed himself to. We need to, the three of us, talk this over and figure this out. Pretending isn’t going to do you any good any longer, Y/n. And I think me and Oscar can both agree on the fact that we just want the best for you, yeah? So I know this is hard, but if you wait any longer, the situation will just get worse and worse. And now I’ve figured you out, so let’s just deal with this together, the three of us, and be honest. Okay?”

You hesitate as your eyes start to water.

You feel like you want to throw up.

I never wanted this to happen. I never wanted it to come to this. I just wanted it to work itself out on it’s own. I didn’t want Lando or Oscar to know. I wanted to figure it out alone.

“Lando,” you sniff, your voice cracking. Lando leans over to one of the end tables to grab a tissue, which he uses to wipe a tear rolling down your cheek. As you continue to cry, he hands the tissue to you and begins holding your hand as you use the other to rest your heavy head against it.

You sit there together for a while as you just cry, working through the emotions of the last months. Once you’re finally done, Lando says gently, “It might not get any easier, but please, Y/n. If you’re honest with me and Oscar, I hope you know that we’ll always be ready to help you and be there for you.”

“I know that…” you sniff. “It’s just… I don’t want to lose either of you, Lando. I can’t stand to imagine losing either of you.”

Lando nods slowly, and murmurs, “I can’t speak for Oscar, but just so you know, whatever happens, no matter what, you’ll always be my friend. And I’ll always be there for you. M’kay?”

You nod slowly, wiping your eyes one last time, those words providing just enough comfort for the time being.

“Alright,” Lando says, gently patting your hand. “Can I call Oscar? I’m sure I’ll be able to convince him to come over.”

“Yeah,” you smile weakly. “Unless he’s still sleeping.”

Lando nods and grins as he picks up his phone again to call Oscar Piastri.

When Lando goes to open the door, you follow close behind him, fiddling with your fingers anxiously. When he does open it, a surprised Oscar immediately sees you behind him and exclaims your name in shock. "Why are you here?"

"I invited her, too," Lando replies confidently, as if this is all completely normal, looking Oscar straight in his sweet brown eyes.

"Ah," Oscar nods slowly. "I can see that." He smiles awkwardly at you as Lando brings him in. He mostly just looks thoroughly confused, but doesn't take his eyes off you for a second.

Soon, you're all seated around Lando's dining room table, you and Oscar on one side, facing a lone Lando on the other side, feeling like you're about to be interrogated.

While Lando doesn't ask, 'Where were you at the time of the murder?' he does say, "I think we've all got some thing to be honest about. Oscar, I mentioned it on the phone to you, but I think all three of us have got some... stuff to discuss."

Neither you or Oscar say anything. You're too nervous to speak, and Oscar's too confused.

Lando sighs, seeing neither you or Oscar have nothing much to say, and says, "Alright, then." He slaps his palms down on the table. "Oscar, you and Y/n... You'd like to date her, yeah?"

Immediately Oscar's eyes widen, and his hand tightens around his cellphone in his hand as his pale cheeks redden. "I- What sort of-"

"Do you?"

"Yeah," Oscar admits carefully, but sort of bluntly.

"I'd like to date Y/n, too."

Oscar stares at Lando. His grip on his phone tightens slightly, but that's the only sign of a reaction his body shows as he says softer, "Well, of course."

Lando's gaze averts to you.

You sigh. The awkwardness in the air is making it stuffy and hard to breathe. The tension in the room is thick enough to cut.

"Y/n?" Lando prompts.

Your words get caught in your throat, and instead comes out a weak cough.

Apparently Oscar takes it as a sob, because immediately his hand is on your back, and he's leaning close, saying softly, "Y/n. Are you okay?"

As you bury your face in your hands and nod, you don't catch the dirty look Oscar throws Lando, and Lando's effort to ignore it. Once you've caught your breath, you barely get out, "I love you both."

Oscar's hand slips off your back as Lando reaches across the table to take your hand in his.

"I- you-" Oscar begins, before his eyes turn on Lando. "You knew about this, Lando? You knew?" You can feel the stress and, frankly, anger, radiating off of him as Oscar says, turning to you, "Y/n, I told you if you loved Lando, you could let me go. I would've taken it..." He runs a hand through his hair. "I would've. Y/n, I swear I would've. Why'd you have to play with my heartstrings? Why'd you do that, Y/n? Why'd you do that to m-"

"Oscar, stop!" Lando suddenly snaps, standing up. "Don't you see the state she's in? This is harder for her than it is for you!"

"Just stop fighting," you barely whisper.

Neither men hear you as Lando grabs Oscar's wrist and tells you sternly, "Y/n, you just stay here. I'm gonna go talk with Oscar alone, if that's fine."

But Lando doesn't wait for your input before he tugs Oscar out of the room and slams the door behind him. You suppose it wouldn't matter much anyway. It's not like you would have any idea what to say, anyway, if you'd have been given the chance.

You stare ahead in a strange mixture of regret and dread. Fear of past decisions and fear of future decisions, too.

After the door slams, unbeknownst to you, Lando immediately shoves Oscar against the wall and snaps, "What the hell, man?"

A long breath exits Oscar's lungs as he stares back into Lando's hazel eyes. "What?" he sighs.

"Don't you see she's in distress? Give the girl a break-"

"I need to give her a break? Lando, I kissed her. Do you think I would've fucking done that if I knew she was seeing you? We can both say it was all friendships all along, but we also both know this's bullshit." Oscar gulps before muttering, "She's a fucking cheater."

"No, she's not!" Lando suddenly defends. "You just don't understand."

"Yeah! Clearly I don't," Oscar says gruffly.

"So are you going to let me explain what I think went on?"

"Why don't we hear it straight from her? You could very well be biased."

"Do you think she wants to say it? Oscar," Lando sighs. "Won't you just listen to me?"

Lando watches as the Australian bites his lip, before saying, "Have you kissed?"

"Once."

"Same..." Oscar hesitates once more before asking, "So it's just the 'friend' thing? She's in love with both of us so she's been convincing herself she can stay both our friends forever."

"Well... right. And neither of us knew that was going on, and... Yeah, you know."

"How'd you find out?"

"It became too obvious. But Oscar, you've had your suspicions before the beginning."

Oscar sighs, staring down. "Right. So. She denied it because she loved us both."

"That's what I'm reckoning."

"What did she think she'd accomplish? Why did she think letting that happen would do any good? We both thought she was single. And technically, she was, but not really, because, we- you- I- you- you know..." Oscar trails off before dragging his hand across his face and leaving it over his eyes. "Oh, God."

"It's complicated," Lando nearly whispers.

"You... You can say that again..." Oscar breathes, his voice cracking as his other hand goes to his face, his pointer and middle finger pressing hard into his temple.

"Oscar?" Lando suddenly asks, his hand resting on the younger man's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Shit... I don't know..."

"Oscar, are you-"

"No- I mean, I am, but-"

Oscar is interrupted by Lando's arms suddenly wrapping around him in a hug and Lando murmuring, "Now both of you are crying?"

Oscar, despite himself, finds his face falling into Lando's shoulder as he begins, his voice just slightly hoarse, "I'm not crying, by the way. It's just... Lando, I've been in love with her for years; I swear, probably a decade by now. And I've known her literally my whole life. A part of me just always expected she'd always be there and I'd always just... that I'd always have enough time to wake up one morning and ask her out. I should have done it quite literally years ago. But I didn't and that's why we're here now, me feeling as if I have more of a right to her love, though really, I'm not worthy of her at all." Oscar lets out a shakily breath before adding, "I regret it so, so much, Lando."

Lando's arms around him tighten. "I'm so sorry."

"You don't have anything to apologize for."

"Osc, I just want her to be happy. But I know her dating me isn't the solution. Because she'd be devastated to date me but not you, and vise versa. She's head over heels for us both."

Oscar gulps. "Well, then what the hell do you suggest?" He leans away from Lando, wiping at his eyes with his thumb.

"Oh, Oscar," Lando sighs deeply. "I don't fucking know."

After that, the two stand in silent contemplation, worrying, pondering. Feeling. Emotion. Passion. Pain.

Before Lando finally says carefully, as if walking on eggshells, "...What if we both dated her...? Just kept doing what we've been doing, but the other one knows about it, so she doesn't have to feel guilty about it, but we both still... you know, get to date her?"

Oscar bites his lip. "Couldn't that get complicated?"

"Of course it could..." Lando trails off, before picking up more positively, "But sometimes the easier way isn't the right way, Oscar. We both know it'd make her happier to date us both. And we both know we'd both be happier if we could date her, yeah?"

Oscar's silent, considering, his eyes slightly glazed over, despite the battle that's going on inside his mind.

"Osc...? Osc, please, mate. I think it's the best shot we've got. It'd mean the world to me-"

"Yeah," Oscar suddenly interrupts with a nod, leaning off the hallway's wall. "Yeah, I get what you're saying. We can try that Lando," he says curtly, almost hollowly as he suddenly reaches for the door handle back to the dining room where you sit.

But right before his hand meets the knob, Lando snatches it away in his own, pulling Oscar to face him again.

Oscar can't help but feel awkward at how close his face is to the other Formula 1 driver's, and averts his eyes to the floor because of this.

But Lando responds simply, "Oscar, look at me. In my eyes."

Oscar sighs and looks up, meeting the strong eyes of Lando Norris. "What?" he barely whispers.

"Thank you so much, okay?" Lando murmurs, squeezing Oscar's hand.

To Oscar, everything seems wrong. Why is he standing with his teammate, his rival, this close, holding hands, with such intense eye contact? This should be just him and you. Lando shouldn't be a part of this.

How was he so stupid to let Lando ruin it all?

Oscar, just try to trust Lando? Maybe he's right? You can conform for now, but don't conform with malice. Only allow yourself to feel anger towards Lando after it all falls apart because of him.

"'Kay," Oscar mutters back.

"And, listen, Oscar. I hope you know you can trust me. I care about you, too. So much. I like you so much. So, please. Just be real with me. M'kay?"

"Of course... Can we go back and see Y/n now?" Oscar mumbles, feeling slightly uncomfortable at Lando's extreme sincerity.

Alright, maybe more than just slightly uncomfortable.

"Sure," Lando nods, and the two men come walking back in.

They sit down, and once they've finished explaining to you their idea, you ask, "So, you're saying we all date? The three of us, together?"

"Yeah," Lando responds with a smile at the same time as Oscar responding, "Well, sort of-"

Both your pairs of eyes turn to Oscar. He swallows and adds, "I mean, yeah. Of course. Just sounds weird to me, for three people to be dating, but it's just because I'm not used to it, you know? It's good. It's fine."

"Oscar, are you sure you're okay with that idea?" you venture.

But there's no way Oscar's going to say anything but a convincing, "Of course!" after the way he saw your eyes immediately light up in hope when Lando explained his idea of the three of you dating.

So you nod, taking that answer, but just ask one more tentative question, "So, you two... you're okay with... you.. you know..."

Before Oscar's brain can even completely comprehend what you're asking, Lando throws his arm around Oscar's shoulders and exclaims, "Of course, Y/n! Me and Osc get on great! Plus, he's not so bad himself-"

And in that moment, you witness Lando lean into kiss Oscar's cheek just as Oscar turns to look at Lando to speak and-

Lando ends up pecking Oscar on his lips.

Oscar's eyes practically pop out of his head, and Lando, to be honest, looks somewhat surprised himself. But you're sure Oscar's brains are about to begin running out his bright red ears as his whole face goes fire hydrant red. "Oh..." he just manages, his hand dragging over his lip.

Lando laughs slightly awkwardly, deciding to pretend he meant to do that. He gives the other driver a pat on his shoulder before saying, "You know, Y/n, you know how flustered Oscar can get with you? Imagine how bad it could be with me. You know, me being so hot and sexy and-"

You giggle nervously and interrupt, "Yeah, yeah, Lando. I get what you're saying."

As the visit at Lando's flat goes on that day, you and Lando loosen up a fair amount at the whole prospect of the three of you dating, but Oscar doesn't seem to budge. Oscar ends up leaving early, so before you go to bed that night, you stop to bring up your nervous concern to Lando: "Lando, I just don't know if Oscar wants to do this... I mean, he doesn't seem comfortable... I just... I think he really doesn't like the idea of dating another guy... I mean, maybe he's- you know, he's not- He doesn't have those feelings for men-"

"Oh, gosh, Y/n, don't worry about that," Lando reassures you and himself, quite honestly. "He'll come around. Oscar just needs time." He adds with a tease, "I mean, who can resist me?"

"You're suggesting you're so hot you can turn straight men gay?" you ask, completely unimpressed, crossing your arms.

"No, no! Trust me, Y/n, Oscar Piastri is not a straight man to even begin with."

"But-"

"Shh. You're probably just tired. Go on, you're eyes are shutting on themselves. Just lean on me."

"But Lando-"

He pecks your lips and murmurs close to your ear, "I've got you here, Y/n. Leave all your worries for tomorrow morning, and until then, I'll deal with the rest."

"Are you sure?"

"Never been more sure," Lando comments, yawning himself as you sigh, resigned, and snuggle into his chest.

You're practically out cold within minutes, which leaves Lando time to sit alone with his thoughts, stroking your hair, worrying and thinking.

What if she's right? What if this just isn't going to work with Oscar?

I thought maybe he'd be more open.

Oh, God. I don't want to hurt either of them, one bit. I love Y/n. I know I do, and I have for so long now.

And Oscar? I'm so fond of him.

Ah, here I go again. Fuck me and my distracted, wandering, boyish heart.

Just like with Carlos. Just like with Daniel.

I don't know I feel it until in one moment, one instance, they smile in a certain way or say a certain joke or do a certain thing in a certain way and-

And suddenly I'm mad in love with yet another person.

Oh, Lando Norris. If only you could date everyone in the world you ever loved.

Then I'd be dating a lot more than just two people. And on the first day of dating two people, it's already a mess.

And it's all my fault.

I guess I'll just have to be the one who fixes it all, then, too.

"Oh, uh, good morning!" you chuckle as you see both Lando's and Oscar's heads turn almost in unison when you enter the room in McLaren HQ. "When did you two arrive in the U.K.?"

"Yesterd-"

"This morning!" Lando beams, throwing his arms around you.

"Oh, alright," you chuckle again. "It's so nice to see both of you..." You smile awkwardly as Lando pulls away and Oscar pats your shoulder when a sudden thought comes into your head.

Is this something the three of us should keep a secret?

Strangely (and stupidly) enough, you forgot to discuss that.

"Hey, uh, it's great you're both here right now. I've got to talk to you about, uhm- some of the media plans we have for you regarding Canada... Let's talk in the hall; don't want to disturb people working in here."

Lando raises his eyebrows as Oscar takes on a perplexed look. Once you're out in the hall together, you lean close and are about to speak when Lando interrupts with a smirk, "So, anyway. What about those... 'media plans' 'regarding Canada'...?"

"Oh, shut it, you!" you grin, realizing how much in just a little over a week away you missed Lando.

Oscar suddenly gently takes your hand by your side and says, "Oh, come on, Lando. Y/n, what did you want to say to us."

And you suddenly realized how much you missed Oscar, too, in only a little over a week.

"Well," you start, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "About this... relationship... Should we... you know, keep it a secret?"

"I... think so," Oscar says carefully, squeezing your hand. "Imagine the media's response. And the fans: the fans would be unbearable."

Lando crosses his arms and whines, "So you're saying I can't even show my affection for you two? Oscar, we're always on camera."

Did Lando just say you two? you can't help but suddenly wonder.

"Maybe you are, but there's ways of avoiding it," Oscar comments, not seeming to hear.

Hm. Maybe I heard wrong.

Because deep down inside, despite your secret desires, you know that Lando and Oscar just agreed to this for you, and have no specific liking for each other.

And that's the thing that's making you nervous that this whole thing has no chance of working out.

"Boys. I agree with Oscar," you sigh. "Lando, I work in marketing and public image type stuff. If anyone knows about this, it's me. And I agree with Osc. It'll do us no good to make this public. Let's just keep it on the down-low."

"Can we at least make a compromise?" Lando ventures.

"Go on," you sigh.

"We can at least still keep acting like we're mad in love with you," Lando laughs. "Because we've been doing that this whole time. Just no one has to know about the dating. I mean, it'll seem off if that suddenly stops."

You bite your lip but murmur, "Fair enough."

Lando grins and comments, "I gotta meeting now. See you two later," giving each your shoulders a pat.

Once Lando is gone, you turn to Oscar and murmur, letting go of his hand to touch his arm gently "Hey, Oscar. Are you alright?"

Your childhood best friend looks to you, a smile immediately forming on his face. But his eyes remain a bit hollow, a bit sad. "Of course I'm alright. Why do you ask?"

"I don't know... You haven't seemed yourself today, I guess is all."

Of course she says that, Oscar thinks. She's the one that knows me best, anyway.

"I don't? Well, I'm fine... I'm sorry if I don't seem it," Oscar responds, attempting to brighten his smile. "Anyways, I've got to be off, too, actually," he says, checking his expensive watch. He leans in to peck your lips as his hand brushes your waist, before waving and offering, "Catch you later, lovely!"

The combination of his affectionate gestures and him calling you 'lovely' kind of makes your head spin.

You lay next to Lando, absently stroking his cheek and chin, feeling his facial hair, as he holds you close, tracing sweet words with his gentle fingers into your back.

You sigh, completely contented in the practically perfect moment. You're in Spain, and it's Saturday night- the Spanish Grand Prix is tomorrow. You ended up taking the last Grand Prix weekend in Canada off, for your spa weekend. Either way, before the race tomorrow, Lando invited you for some snuggles in his hotel room, and there's no way you could say no to that.

So here you are.

But suddenly Lando whispers, "Do you think I should invite Oscar?"

Your heavy eyes seem to immediately open and sharpen at this suggestion. You take a moment to ponder his question, before asking one of your own instead of answering his: "Lando, do you like Oscar?"

"Y/n, of course I like Osc-"

"No, no, Lando. I mean... you know..." you begin carefully, "Do you like Oscar the way you like me?"

There's silence in the room as the air conditioner becomes deafeningly loud suddenly. You can hear a long, slow sigh escape from Lando's lips, into the air, before he slowly says, "Oh, Y/n. I've liked lots of people the way I've liked you in the past."

You smile a little. "I know. You're Lando Norris, for God's sake. Of course you have. But today, right now, in this moment, do you like Oscar the same way you like me?"

Lando presses his forehead into your shoulder before uttering quieter, "If I did, it wouldn't matter."

"Why not?" you prod.

"Because, Y/n, there's no way he likes me in the same way he likes you."

You sigh slowly, feeling a slight pang at hearing those words. You wrap your arms around Lando and pull him closer to you. "What do you like about Oscar...?" you whisper.

"Oh, fuck me, Y/n. Everything. His stupid sense of humour, the way he laughs at all my jokes, the way he looks at me with those brown eyes, the little birth marks all over him, how polite and calm and cool-headed and cooperative and agreeable and smart and sensible and friendly and genuinely good he is. His voice, too! His mentality. Don't fucking tell anyone this, or I will kill you, but I even like the way he's a little bit taller than me. I love his stupid hair and his big smile. His hands... I love them. I love everything about him. I love him, and it's like it all just hit me. I don't know, Y/n. I just don't know."

You lean in and peck his lips before whispering, "Oh, Lando Norris. I love him, too, for all the same reasons. And I love you, too."

"The thing is, Y/n," he barely whispers, "that he'll never, ever love me back."

That feels like a stab to your heart.

You can't imagine how it feels to Lando.

You cuddle him so close, and you hold each other so close, that you can feel his heart pounding in his chest. "Lando," you whisper. "I wish it could all just work out."

"Me, too, Y/n.

"Me too."

"Heyyy, Osc!" you grin, knocking on his open driver's room door. "You feeling good for the race?"

He smiles to see you in the door. "Yeah, I am. Come on in. Thanks for coming to see me, Y/n."

"Of course. It's a treat to see your handsome face."

He beams wider but rolls his eyes, "Oh, yeah?"

"Of course!" you giggle a bit.

"Well, do I get my pre-race hug, then?"

You grin and throw your arms around him, giving him a big kiss on his cheek, "You'll also be getting a post-race hug, too, when you win it!"

"Well, I guess that's always the goal, but we'll see about that." He leans back to look at you, gazing so warmly, so intensely for just a second, into your eyes, before looking away. He opens his mouth to say something, but then quickly closes it.

"What is it, Oscar?" you prod.

"I just wanted to say I love you."

You grin. "Don't ever hesitate to say that again. You don't need to, because I love you, too. And you and Lando better stay safe out there on the track today for me, okay?"

"Oh, alright, and the rest of the grid can all die; they don't matter," he teases.

"Oh, shut it, you!" you laugh, exiting his driver's room with a wave, "Go on and get ready for your race now!"

"Bye!" he laughs.

"Bye, bye, Osc!"

You lay on the bed in Lando's hotel room where you laid just last night, but this time, there's two people laying with you rather than just one.

Oscar is fast asleep on your right side, his right arm draped over your body and his head resting against your shoulder. Lando is on your left, still awake, gently rubbing your left hand absently as he runs his hand through his messy curls.

"Do you think Osc-"

"Ah-" Lando exclaims softly with a little flinch. "I thought you were sleeping already!" he laughs a bit.

You nod, waiting a few seconds before reasking your question, "Do you think Oscar is feeling better about the whole thing?"

"Oh, God, Y/n, I don't know. I think he's just kind of rolling with the punches," Lando sighs deeply. "He just wants you. He'll do anything to have you. Even sleep in the same bed as me."

"Oh... right..." you sigh, wrapping your arm around the sleeping Oscar, pulling him closer to you as you rest your head in the little nook between Lando's cheek and shoulder.

You shut your eyes, trying to force yourself to sleep, but your thoughts are raging, just like Lando's.

Why can't it all just be right? Why does it have to be so difficult? Is this the right thing? Should we give up on it?

Why can't the three of us just be right for each other?

This whole mess is all your fault, Y/n.

Your uncertain heart pounds in your ears, faster and faster, making you nearly go insane.

[icyg4l]

PAC: How Does Your Higher Self Define Womanhood?

Hello, beautiful people. Today marks the last post of the Women’s History Month series & one of two posts made today! I am excited to continue to create content for you guys. And I am even more grateful for the support I have received as of lately. Because of this, I will continue to post creative tarot readings. So, without further ado, please pick your pile.

Left-to-Right: (1-4)

Pile 1: Pile One, your story reminds me of the Miss Congeniality plot. Basically, Sandra Bullock plays a detective that goes undercover as a beauty pageant contestant. At first, she rejects the ideas of what it means to be a “girly girl” but eventually conforms to the standards. She viewed femininity as a sign of weakness and did not like being around other women because she felt that she had to prove herself to be tough. But she gained respect for the girls who worked in these pageants as she worked undercover because she began to acknowledge the hard work it takes to be in the pageants. By the end, she is closer to her womanhood. You have a similar story. I doubt that you’re a detective reading this but I feel as though you may have the tendency to thoroughly investigate any piece of information. To your higher self, womanhood means constantly being on the search for answers to placate the inner child wounds that lie within you. I feel like when you were younger, you may have been an outcast or a tomboy, maybe both. Because of this, you have set a lifelong quest to figure out what being a woman means to you whether it is intentional or not. Your higher self wants you to know that being a woman comes with all types of trauma, but remembering that you do not have to face it alone. You do not have to carry the burdens alone. You see, women are conditioned to be demure for the sake of keeping the peace but that’s not what works for you. Embrace the messy parts of yourself because if you don’t, life will get boring. Part of your mission is being aware of your multifaceted nature; reject conformity, embrace the abnormal, babe.

Cards Used: The Sun, 4 of Cups, 4 of Swords, 5 of Wands, Ace of Cups, The Magician, 5 of Cups, 3 of Cups, 3 of Swords.

Signs: Aquarius, Libra, Leo, Sagittarius.

extras: money getter. cash grabs. “low hanging fruit.” airhead. wallpaper. phineas and ferb. “sharon.” beetles. s.o.s. by rihanna. “tinge of an accent.” sweet. mirrors. coconut trees. hawaii. stubborn. radioactive.

Pile 2: Pile Two, there is a similar vibe that you have to Pile One, except I don’t think that you have problems with accepting your femininity. I think that you have problems with how masculines function in society. I am sensing a Lori Harvey type of energy here. This is likely related to the way that you operate when it comes to love. People tend to want to possess you so that they can show you off like a trophy. But your higher self wants you to know the difference between users and the genuine thing. I feel like you’ve developed this flighty persona to protect yourself from harm. While experiencing the many tribulations of womanhood, you have adopted the “flights over feelings” type of mindset. How has that been working out for you? No, really. Is it actually working or have you convinced yourself that it has. As a woman, your higher self thinks that womanhood is finding love in a loveless world. This isn’t necessarily about romance, but it’s just a mindset that you should adopt. It will save you from falling victim to the cycles of toxicity that plague society. It’s a cold world out here, babe but it doesn’t mean that you have to be as cold as the world. Part of your mission is forgiving yourself and those who hurt you so that you can see the beauty in the world. With this newfound sight of beauty, there comes true inner power.

Cards Used: The Devil, 7 of Discs (RX), 8 of Wands, The Hierophant, 3 of Swords, 3 of Cups, 10 of Discs, The Star, 10 of Cups (RX).

Signs: Capricorn, Cancer, Scorpio, Virgo.

extras: two can play that game. all about love by bell hooks. renegade. open arms. country music lover. tony montana. archer (2009). “logan.” phoenix rising. “marcus.” ashy. corny. cerebellum. stupendous.

Pile 3: Pile Three, your higher self defines womanhood as something that is both sweet and sour. It is something that she takes for granted but it is also something that she takes pride in. It’s a strength but also a weakness. I feel like I am talking to someone who has an ingenue/youthful spirit. I channeled the character Darla from The Little Rascals but I also channeled Charlotte from Princess and the Frog. You seem to be very in tune with your inner child and there is nothing wrong with that. Your inner child is heavily protected by the teenaged version of yourself, which seems very angry. These different versions of yourself often clash with one another, which can lead to bouts of depression and confusion. Your higher self is a woman who pours into herself through movement and self-expression. You need to channel these negative energies into creativity or else you will be stifled by your own thoughts. You honestly need to get out of your head. Your higher self feels as though there is a flip side to every coin that you get. For example, if you are having period pains, it may hurt but at least you’re not pregnant! Looking on the brighter side of life is how you can be closer to your higher self.

Cards Used: 5 of Swords, 6 of Swords, Page of Swords, Justice, 4 of Cups, Ace of Cups, Ace of Discs, 5 of Wands, The Hanged Man.

Signs: Leo, Pisces, Aries, Gemini.

extras: janet jackson. “i’m da man.” we will rock you. parties. diva. elle magazine. shapely. “how’d you figure?” honest answers only. maya angelou. glorilla. lola bunny. fatigue. body aches. deodorant. small bowls. annual. prayers. mark on the cheek. boot camp. “your highness.” shredded cheese. livelihood.

Pile 4: And last but not least, Pile Four. I feel like you are well sought after in the most lusty way possible. This has its perks, but lately, you feel like it has more cons than anything. I feel like you’re someone who always seems to feel isolated because of this. As a result, your higher self views womanhood as foreign. The amount of power that you hold as a woman is beyond explanation. There are so many ways that you can present yourself, Pile Four. I don’t think you have realized your true potential. Yes, you have gone through trauma because people assumed that you could handle the weight of the world but this means nothing to your spirit. Wake up! Don’t you realize how unique you are? Pile Four, womanhood can really only be defined by you, not by anyone else. The prioritization of yourself will help you make a name for yourself. You could be in your 20s, tired and just wanting a change. Well, your higher self wants you to know that change will come once you begin to change the narrative yourself. If you believe something about yourself that was told to you by someone else, then it means that you’re easily moldable. Being a woman means rising to the top even through the facings of opposition. You are a fighter. So the question is: when are you going to jump in the ring and fight for your sense of self, Pile Four.

Cards Used: Ace of Cups, Queen of Wands, 3 of Discs, Knight of Discs, Ten of Swords, 4 of Discs, The Hermit, Queen of Swords, 9 of Discs.

Signs: Gemini, Pisces, Cancer, Virgo.

extras: “tart.” “fresh out the shower.” burgundy. melons. net worth. SWer. dollar bills. illegal documents. molly. friendless. stoned. be your own boss. cake baker. sister, sister. wiseman. silly goose. fall. saturn.

[star-girl69]

Guilty Pleasure

Caroline (KK) Harvey x Fem!Reader

—-

synopsis: after weeks full of stress and homework, all you want to do is have a nice evening with your girlfriend. but it’s hard to let yourself do that when she’s working herself to death to prepare for hockey championships.

a/n: wow i’m a genius… based off of this ask!! i hope you all enjoy!! STREAM TOUGH BY LANA AND QUAVO‼️‼️‼️

a few notes:

shoutout to my wonderful sister wife @lovinpelova read her kk fic it’s amazing ILY AND OUR WIFE 🫶

and rip to laila’s ability to go live 💔💔

Guilty Pleasure - Chappell Roan

warnings: NOT PROOFREAD, i don’t know anything about college please spare me, college scares me, i’m scared, anyways, texting if that triggers y’all, the tiniest bit of angst, y/n is kinda like insecure and all self deprecating LOL, umm a little bit of kissing, hurt/comfort!!!!!!!! kinda!!!!, swearing, ending sucks so bad, this sucks, whatever, i think that’s all let me know if i missed anything!!

—-

“Y/N,” your roommate groans into the stillness of your room. Besides for the natural humming of the building, it’s midnight, a school night, and the dorms are mostly silent. “Y/N, please. Turn off the lights and go to bed. You can’t keep studying, babe.”

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, standing up from your desk and flicking the light switch on the wall. You hear your roommate, Jackie, let out a sigh of relief.

Immediately, you sit back down, flipping the desk lamp on.

“Ugh, no, babe. That’s not what I meant- you need to sleep.”

“I have to study.”

Jackie had it so easy- you’ve never seen her study for any test, ever, yet she always comes back with 90’s on whatever assignment it is. Not you. No, you work your ass off and get an 80- if you’re lucky.

“You’ve been studying all weekend,” she groans. “You can’t do anything about it now, trust me. Whatever happens, happens. All you can do now is sleep.”

You’re silent, trying to cram just a few more vocab words into your head.

“Y/N, please!”

A pillow hits your head.

“Bitch!” You yell, glaring at her. Maybe you did really think she would be smiling at you, but she’s not. She’s looking at you with real concern in her eyes.

“Babe. I can see the dark circles under your eyes from here.”

And if you’re honest, the words on the pages are starting to blur, you can’t process anything- you know she’s right. You’re not helping yourself at this point, but you’re too scared to just give up and go to bed. What if you stay up for one more minute and it completely saves your ass tomorrow?

“Maybe you should call KK?” Jackie says, tentatively, but you’re not even looking at her anymore. “I won’t even complain that you’re whispering.”

“She’s probably asleep,” you mutter. “She texted me today, they had a really hard practice.”

“Yeah, but she’ll answer if you call. We both know she will.”

“No, I’m not bothering her. I’ll go to bed, okay?”

You meet Jackie’s eyes, and she looks you up and down.

“Okay.”

But she doesn’t settle, not when you’ve flicked the light off. You can see her when your eyes adjust, she doesn’t lay down until she sees you in bed, covers pulled up to your chin.

It’s only when you finally firmly squeeze your eyes shut that you hear the rustling of her settling into bed.

“Goodnight,” she murmurs, concern in her voice.

“Goodnight,” you say back.

She’s right. She’s completely right about everything.

She’s close with KK and the rest of the team you’ve come to known like family just like you. KK would answer you. She always has notifications turned on for you and you for her.

And there’s nothing else you can do about this test tomorrow, you’re confident you’ll at least pass it, but since you’re not doing any sports like almost everyone else at this school, you feel like you should at least have better grades. But you just… don’t.

As you wrap your arms around yourself in the darkness, hoping Jackie’s eyes are closed and she can’t see you, all you can do is think about Caroline.

—-

hockey queen: r u still coming over??

you: yes ofc do u hate me and want me to die????

hockey queen: no ily ❤️

you: ilyt i’m getting food tn btw

hockey queen: ok babe wtvr u want 😍

After days of turning down every invitation to go out, after forcing yourself to stay home and feeling Jackie’s disapproving eyes on you every time you stayed up late- your last class of the week had finished.

It was Friday afternoon, the sky starting to turn a pretty grey that let you know rain was coming. This entire week had felt like a battle in the long war that was college, and you desperately needed a night in with a movie and some takeout to replenish yourself for the next week-long battle.

And you needed that night to be with Caroline. Desperately. Even though you knew she was working herself just as hard, with your workload and her busy hockey schedule these Friday nights were sacred, and weekly.

No one ever skipped a Friday night.

Even when you were under the weather with the most horrible headache you’ve ever been plagued with, Caroline still came over and rubbed you temples, talked to you to distract you in a soft voice and let you drool on her when you finally did fall asleep.

Even when Caroline was so exhausted from a hard practice, and all she had the strength to do was brush her teeth and change into sweats, you let her pass out on top of you and stayed put the rest of the night, rubbing her back, just to make sure she got her rest.

With championships coming up, you’re sure tonight will be another night in which KK is barely functioning, but as long as she’s just there, tangible, you’ll be fine.

That’s what you tell yourself, even as you walk across campus, letting your mind guiltily wander to you just finally stopping for one second, slowing down and confiding in her how fucking exhausted you were.

The rational part of you knew she would understand. But the insecure, childish part of you that was scared you’ll be seen as too needy, too much, overpowered everything else.

You needed whatever bit of Caroline she would give you.

You sighed, kicking a stick on the concrete path away at a particularly vivid fantasy of you absolutely sobbing in her arms. And it’s not like you haven’t cried in front of her before- what scared you about this guilty fantasy was how good it felt, even in this daydream, to let her in.

She works so hard. You can’t dump yourself onto her either.

—-

jacked 💪: do i have the dorm to myself tn??

you: yes 🤗

jacked 💪: inviting sexy boy from econ over

you: use protection ily

jacked 💪: BITCH ilyt

KK and Laila had the cutest apartment that wasn’t too far away, with a really pretty view out onto a street with lots of lights that almost made it feel like new york city.

Unfortunately, the rest of the apartment really did feel like the apartment of two college girls. There was perpetually dishes in the sink, the weirdest posters and inside jokes plastered onto the walls- you didn’t even try to understand them.

Laila likes to joke that she knows when it’s time to clean based on how bad your reaction is when you walk in. She decides they can go a few more days without cleaning. You roll your eyes, eating your takeout at the counter while you wait for your girlfriend to get out of the shower.

When she finally does emerge from her room, her slightly curly hair in its prettiest slightly wet form, dressed in comfy clothes- something immediately squeezes inside of your chest.

Maybe it’s your heart. Or maybe it’s a physical manifesting of nerves and guilt in that’s made its home in your chest. Whatever.

You can see the tiredness on her face when she walks over to where you sit, wrapping her arms around you and kissing your cheek.

You ignore Lalia’s exaggerated gag.

“Come with me,” KK murmurs into your ear, and you don’t need to be told twice, stuffing your keys into your pocket and following her.

“Don’t be too loud!” Laila shouts after you, looking into the fridge to find a snack- you all know that fridge is in desperate need of a restock and a deep clean- “There are other people in this apartment, okay?”

“Shut up!” KK responds, holding onto your arm tightly and shutting the door behind you.

—-

After putting on some random movie from Netflix in the background, you were all too happy to throw yourself onto KK’s comfy bed, smiling when she let out an exaggerated groan, collapsing face down next to you.

“Aw, hard practice?” You fake cooed, and she nodded into her pillows. You played with a damp curl, twisting it between your fingers.

“So many bag skates,” she moaned. “I lost count. I swear I almost died. I saw the gates of Heaven.”

“Poor baby.”

“Yes,” she muttered in agreement, grabbing your hand playing with her hair and pressing it up against her face so she could trap you between her face and the pillow. “Everything hurts.”

The only light came from the flickering movie, and you could barely even hear it as you stared at her face. You press a kiss to her cheek and she smiles, and you sit up even as your own exhausted body screams at you.

She frowns when you take your hand away from her face, but doesn’t seem as bothered anymore when you straddle her legs and softly start to massage her shoulders.

“I love you,” she whispers, eyes falling shut. “Oh, my God, you could become a masseuse.”

You laugh, relishing in how intimate this moment feels, holding onto the feeling in your chest that erupted when she said “I love you” it’s not possible to feel guilt in this moment, shrouded in a haze that might be because of your droopy eyes but you tell yourself it’s because you love this girl so much.

“I haven’t seen you all week,” Caroline says after a second.

“I know,” you say after a long moment. Thinking of those long nights when you wanted to be selfish so bad. When you wanted her all to yourself. “Sorry. I’ve had, like, a lot of homework lately and stuff.”

“But the worst is over now?”

You heart squeezes at the hopeful edge to her tone.

It’s hard to find times when your schedules match. It hurts you, you know it hurts her, and sometimes these Fridays are the only thing that can keep you sane. You might actually end up in a mental hospital.

“Oh, um… I dunno. Hopefully, sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she says, biting back a yawn. “I jus’ miss you.”

“I miss you too,” you say, so quietly it’s almost like a confession. “Okay, I’m sorry, I’m about to fall asleep,” you groan, slipping off of her and back onto the bed.

Laying on your side so you’re facing her, you watch as she opens her eyes and smiles at you in that sweet, slightly goofy way you fell in love with.

She reaches out and softly touches your under eyes, where you know there’s noticeable dark circles. She frowns, ever-so-slightly, and the unspoken question is thick in the air.

“Jackie keeps getting all pissed off at me,” you say, breaking the silence, making sure she doesn’t ask that question: “have you been sleeping?” You’re fine. You’re fine. “She thinks I’m studying too much but no matter how many times I tell her I’m studying a pretty normal amount- she won’t let it go.”

“Are you studying a normal amount?”

There’s a slight teasing smile on her face, so you roll your eyes.

“Yes. I stay up a little late, like, once and it’s like it’s the end of the world.”

It’s not just once, and it’s not just a little late, but KK is so tired, you can see it on her face.

She laughs. “Jackie jus’ loves you,” she says after a yawn.

“Too much, maybe.”

She puts her arm around you, tugging you closer to her. “You deserve all the love in the world, baby.”

You smile like a cheesy schoolgirl. “Okay,” you say, pressing a short kiss to her lips. “Go to bed, please. You can barely keep your eyes open and it’s actually kinda scary.”

“Come here,” she groans, pulling you even closer until you’re pressed up right against her.

And before you can even think about what you’re doing, you let out a sigh and press your face into her neck. This might be your favorite place- where you can feel her heartbeat and the way her arm is wrapped around you.

Your chest squeezes when everything fades out for a second, tiredness you didn’t feel until you were in her arms suddenly coming out in the form of a yawn.

“Damn, you’re tired,” she whispers, and you can hear the smile in her voice. You try to mumble “so are you” but it comes out as an incoherent mumble that she chuckles at.

Just as you faintly realize that comforting sensation is her hand in your hair, scratching your head, guilt consumes you. She’s been working so hard at practice- and here she is comforting you? You’re not going to national championships like her. You’re not doing anything important- you’re just tired from getting mediocre grades.

Sluggish, you moan and try to move out of her comfort, something inside of you screaming that you don’t deserve it, but she only mistakes it as you shifting in your sleep and softly shushes you.

And just as you push off sleep enough to try and get out, her breathing evens out. So, you fall asleep press tightly into her arms, feeling so guilty you think it might actually destroy you.

—-

hockey queen: hi baby practice finished early can i come over?

…

hockey queen: are u studying

hockey queen: babe pls i’m bored

hockey queen: ok i’m coming over deal w it

You set your pen down, staring at the scribbles in the margins of your assignment- the actual questions still blank. You sigh, feeling pressure behind your eyes that you try not to let spill.

“Fuck,” you whisper, putting your head into your hands and allowing yourself one guilty moment to wallow in self-pity before you finish this fucking assignment.

It’s still early, but you know you should have done this simple one page of work before tackling the endless pages of review for another test you have tomorrow- now you’re so tired you can barely see, and your hand is cramping.

You softly scrunch your dominant hand into a fist before spreading it out flat, almost wincing at how sore it is. Is it even possible for your hand to be this sore? Covered in smudged ink, you debate going to the bathroom and washing your hands. Maybe you need to walk around, then you can get this one page done.

But all you can think about is that stupid test tomorrow, and maybe you should stay up late again, screw Jackie’s concern, study more-

The first tear that drops onto your paper shocks you a bit. And you feel so stupid for crying in the first place that you start crying more.

Pressing your face into your hands, you’re too tired to try and stop the tears, just letting them fall. Your mind races with thoughts of that stupid test, this stupid assignment- and some rational part of you knows that this is unhealthy- but it’s college, and it kinda feels like everything you do is a precursor for your adult life.

If you can’t juggle tests and homework- how are you going to juggle bills and work? Simple housework?

Someone knocks on the door.

You freeze for a moment, feeling your makeup run streaky down your face, eyes still full of tears and mascara messy-

“Y/N?”

Oh, fuck. Fuck. You know that voice, you know KK’s voice, you can hear her perfectly through the door.

And you’re just stupidly, completely frozen.

Maybe because part of you wants to just run into her arms.

And before you can make up some lie or do anything to get her to go away, she just opens the door, and you quickly turn away.

“Oh. Y/N,” she says, obviously very confused. “I figured you weren’t in here. Did you see my texts?”

“Uh,” you start, and you know immediately that she can hear the sadness in your voice. “No, sorry. I’ve been studying.”

“What happened?” She asks, and you would laugh at the way she looks around the room, almost as if someone is going to jump out. “You’re crying.”

“No,” you fake laugh, standing up. “Give me a second, there’s something in my eye-”

She grabs your wrist.

“Please don’t lie to me.”

The sincerity and love in her voice makes you cry more.

“It’s nothing, I’m fine. I’m just a little overwhelmed with school, I’ve had some late nights, it’s stupid that I’m crying over this. Seriously, babe, thank you- but it’s not that big of a deal.”

She’s got this kinda heartbroken look on her face, and you love her so much- you feel even more guilty for making her feel like this, for being the cause of the frown on her face, and you just want to go back in time and stop all of this from happening.

“…It is a big deal if it’s making you cry.”

You can’t say anything.

She wipes a few tears from your face. “You look exhausted, baby. I didn’t want to say anything because I know you’ve had a lot going on with school, but I know you, I know you’re tired and I think maybe-”

“I’ve had a few late nights, okay?” You finally meet her eyes, trying to convince her that you’re okay, because you feel so stupid and vulnerable and you can’t stand it when she has that concerned look in her eyes for you. “Like, not even that late. 2 A.M. isn’t even that bad. I mean, it’s not like it pays off, because my grades are still shit- but, whatever. It’s fine. I’m fine, okay? I’m sorry, I’m just not thinking straight, and- it’s fine. It’s fine.”

“You’re not fuckin’ fine, Y/N. Stop saying that, why are you pushing me away? You can tell me anything, I love you.”

She’s dropped her bag by now, her entire attention focused on you, one arm wrapped around your waist as if you might run away from her and the other softly brushing away the tears that continue to fall.

“I try so hard,” you say after a second. “I study so much. And I… I just can’t get good grades. And I just… I feel so guilty all the time, because I just want to spend time with you and I love you so much but you work so hard and I just don’t want to be another thing for you to deal with.”

And once it’s finally out, not curled up in your chest like a second heart leeching on the very essence of your being, the tears dry up.

Caroline softly smiles.

“What?” You ask, sniffling a bit, one step away from crying again.

“It’s just- how could you ever think that you would be something for me to “deal” with?”

“I dunno,” you say, slightly pouty as she helps you sit down next to her.

“You’re my favorite person in the entire world. I love you more than anything- even hockey, which is saying a lot. You’re never something for me to deal with, and I don’t do anything but smile anytime someone says your name, or you text me, or I get to see you- I’m sorry that it really sucks right now, with my schedule, and that you were feeling like this and I had no idea- but I really fucking love you.”

You smile softly. “You’re sweet,” you murmur, legs intertwining with hers. “I fucking love you too.”

She places her hand on the side of her face and kisses your nose.

“Don’t ever feel guilty for wanting to spend time with me. I’m never too tired for you. Besides, do you know what I think about during practice?”

“What’s right in front of you face?” You quip.

“Well, that, but also you. And, also, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about with your grades. Don’t you have like an 89 in each class?”

“It’s not a 90,” you groan.

“Still better than me, I’m like all 85’s. And, you’re literally the only reason I’m passing that one class that I hate who’s name I don’t speak.”

You smile, angling yourself to face her, finding that you can’t think of anything poetic to say to tell her how much she means to you, so you just kiss her. Long and slow, trying to pour as much appreciation and emotion into it as possible.

“Okay, game plan, I help you finish whatever work you have, then have you eaten? I’ll get us food. Then, you’re going to go to sleep early, okay?”

“It’s a plan,” you say, standing up and crossing the room to that one piece of paper, tear stain dried on it.

Her face spurs adorably just at the sight of the homework from her least favorite class. “Oh, you’re gonna love me. Don’t worry, I got the answers from the really smart girl I sit next to.” She takes out her own sheet of homework from her bag on the floor, smoothing out the wrinkles on her thigh before proudly handing it to you.

“Hm, I do love you. Just a bit.”

“I’m pretending I didn’t hear that.”

And later that night, with your homework finally done, takeout boxes in the trash bin, and your head on Caroline’s chest- heartbeat in your ears, her lips on the top of you head- it feels impossible to feel guilty about loving her.

—-

Jackie walks in late, groaning to herself about the stupid kid in her study group who asks the most common sense questions- she quickly shuts up when she realizes you’re asleep in your bed.

“Thank God,” she breaths, grateful that she didn’t find you hunched over at the desk again.

She squints into the darkness, quickly realizing there’s two figures on her bed, and the other one is very familiar-

“What did I say?” Jackie mutters to herself. “Insufferably in love with each other.”

Then, she quickly snaps a picture before getting ready for bed herself.

—-

[hannahbarberra162]

Squace of Hearts, Pt. 2

18+ MDNI on Ao3

Part one

I'm not completely satisfied with this. I don't know that one shots are for me - I kept adding detail for later chapters but there aren't going to be any more...unless?

You arrived at the ship bright and early, carrying two large cups of coffee bearing the Marine emblem on their sides. You portaled to the deck and found Ace surveying the damage. You were tired from staying up late with Ace the night before but you were in good spirits at least. 

“G’morning, sunshine.” You handed him his cup and drank deeply from your own.

“Thank god, this is just what I needed.” Ace eagerly accepted his coffee and chugged it.

“Wow, never seen someone drink coffee that fast, doesn’t that burn your - oh. You probably can’t get burned, huh?”

“Yeah, but I can’t get into Marine bases to grab fresh cups of coffee either, so things are pretty fair between us. How’d you know where to go in the base to get this, anyway? Weren’t you worried about being arrested?”

“Nah, it’s easy to predict where the guards will be. Besides, they only build like five or six different styles of bases unless the geography of the island prohibits it. So once you know the variations, they’re easy to navigate and not get caught.” Ace’s eyes went wide.

“Could you draw them for us? The different base styles? That would be helpful information for us to know, in case anyone gets imprisoned.” You hummed. Marine base information was something you kept to yourself in case you needed to either save your own hide or sell it if you needed cash and couldn’t use your power for whatever reason. 

“Maybe, but let’s fix the deck first. We’ll have bigger problems if Marco doesn’t see us working.” 

“You’re right, here, take this.” Ace had a large tome in his hand. “Marco gave this to me, he says that directions on how to fix scorched wood are listed under “wood repair.” You didn’t take the book, raising your cup of coffee.

“You do it! I’m still drinking my coffee, you chugged yours. I’m down a hand.” Ace shrugged and looked up the steps in the book. It would take time and effort but it could be done with sandpaper. You hadn’t worked hard in…a few years. You hadn’t missed it. Ace went below deck to find the needed supplies while you chilled on the deck. 

Other crew members were milling about, doing their chores. One of the Commanders from the previous night, Thatch, came up to you while you were waiting.

“So, you’re the reason for the deck looking like this?” he said with a grin.

“Not entirely. I provided the method, Ace provided the means.” You smiled back, hoping he wasn’t too mad about the ship. After all, they did have to sail on it. 

“I was gonna ask you about that - I’m so curious about your portals. For example, can you make one right now to the kitchen on the ship? Or could you make a never ending loop? There’s so many possibilities.” You were used to these kinds of questions, a lot of people found it interesting. You didn’t always answer them, but you didn’t see how it would hurt.

“For the never ending loop, yes. I’ve gotten stuck before and I’ve put people in them. The problem is that I can only make one set of portals at a time. So if I’m fighting and I put someone in the loop, I can’t use them until I remove at least one of the portals.” Being in the loop was so annoying, it had taken you 5 minutes to get yourself out of it. 

“So you do fight with them. I knew you weren’t just a mover. So, what are you really? Mercenary? Pirate? Thief?” He wasn’t quite suspicious but you’d walked right into that one. You held your free hand up defensively.

“No, no, really. I was on a few crews a long time ago, but I haven’t been a pirate in years. Sometimes I get into a tough spot and need to fight, but it doesn’t happen often. I really do move stuff for money. It’s easy money and I don’t have to work hard, which are my two favorite things. ” And yes, you stole, but not as a career. Thatch narrowed his eyes but still wore a smile. 

“Alright, I believe you for now. If you ever want to spar -” Ace stomped up to the deck with his gigantic-ass boots. 

“Thatch, leave her alone, she doesn’t want to train with you,” Ace said while reading the instructions. You took the sandpaper from under his arm. Ace looked serious about this work thing. He flipped back and forth between two pages. “Ok, we have the sandpaper but we’re going to need to go to the island at some point to get some oil for the wood. We don’t have that on board.” You nodded.

“Yes, sir!” You gave Ace a jaunty salute. He grinned at you and put the book down, taking some of the sandpaper. 

“Let’s get to it.”

~~~

An hour later and your forearms and shoulders were aching. Turned out you’d scorched more of the deck than you’d thought. You flopped down on the deck, throwing your sandpaper dramatically to the side. 

“That’s it, I think we’re finally done with the sanding.” You laid down flat on your back, hands behind your head. 

“But we have so much more work to do,” Ace whined. He laid down on the deck next to you. “We have to get mineral oil and put a buncha of coats on the wood, it’s gonna be a pain.”

“Surely we can take a short break? Even a stern taskmaster like yourself would permit a poor, weak woman like myself to have a break?” You turned to face him, pouting with your lip out. Ace snorted.

“You’ve never been weak. I had the broken nose to prove it. And the broken arm.”

“That one I won’t take credit for, that was all on your own. I didn’t tell you to go to that waterfall looking for flowers. And I certainly didn’t tell you to fall down it.” Ace had been a sweet little kid, bringing you presents from the woods and island. He’d show up, frowning, bruised and covered in bandages, and hand you a beautiful rock or a fistfull of flowers he’d found on his hunts with his brother. It had been the nicest thing anyone gave you for your entire childhood.

“Yeah, but it was worth it. You dove in after me and I got to see your nipples through your shirt,” Ace smiled. “I remember them well, it’s a fond childhood memory.” You laughed, you remembered him staring at your boobs like they were the One Piece. You were feeling the mood and interested in feeling him. It was still the morning, but you didn’t think fun should be limited to the night. 

“Doesn’t have to be a memory, cowboy. But we might want to find a better place, we’re on the deck surrounded by your crew.” You sat up, and pulled him to sit too. “Whaddya say we go find some mineral oil?” You raised a brow, opening a portal to the island. Ace grinned. 

~~~

You portaled to the main street of the island, which is what you could see from the boat. You grabbed Ace’s warm, calloused hand in your own smaller one and pulled him straight into a secondary portal, landing in your hotel room. It was easier to portal to places you’d already been - you just had to be within a reasonable range, you didn’t necessarily have to see where you were going. Ace, still getting used to going through portals, was a little disoriented as he landed with you in the hotel room. He made contact with the bed, almost falling into a seated position. You wasted no time, straddling his lap, facing him. He put his arms around your hips, hugging you to him. You’d barely even started touching but you were feeling flushed. You couldn’t help yourself - you smiled mischievously at him. This was almost nostalgic, you and him hiding away to kiss before being needed somewhere. He smiled back at you as you pushed his hair away from his face. 

“Now, let’s see if you remember what I taught you,” you said, bringing your face close to his. You didn’t need to close the distance, Ace met you halfway, pressing his lips to yours. Your eyes slid closed as you cupped his face in your hands, moving them to the back of his head and kissed him back. You opened your mouth, nipping his lip, and he opened his own. You dipped your tongue in his mouth, feeling his own rolling against yours. You kissed like that for a few minutes, just savoring the feel of Ace back in your arms. You felt his cock hardening in his shorts and you rocked on it, making him groan. You weren’t surprised Ace was a moaner, but it was welcome. You removed your hands from his face and pushed him down with a gentle tap to the shoulder. You laid down next to him, facing him. He slotted a leg through your own as he continued to kiss you - your neck, your jaw, your earlobe. Ace was peppering kisses along any available skin he could find. You sighed in pleasure.

“It seems you’ve learned a few things along the way,” you said. Your breath hitched as he bit where your neck met your shoulder, barely missing the necklace you were wearing. 

“Had a good teacher,” he rasped. He rolled you onto your back as his nimble fingers were unbuttoning your shirt, opening you up for his view. When you were bared to him, he took in the sight of you before he frowned in concentration as he fingered a small rock on a necklace you were wearing. It was a small but beautiful golden rock, glinting in the light. It clearly had no value other than sentimental.

“First time someone frowned when they saw me half naked,” you joked. His eyes flicked to yours.

“I gave you this rock,” he said, still fiddling with the chain around your neck. This time you weren’t blushing from the physical contact. You looked off to the side, turning your head away from him.

“Yeah well. I kept it.” You were embarrassed, which wasn’t something that happened to you often. You knew Ace had gone on to bigger and better things in life, and you didn’t want to seem like you were clinging to him or that you needed him. You’d just always liked it and had made it into a necklace pendant long ago. It was the only thing you’d kept from your childhood and you wore it every day. You didn’t like talking about your feelings and you didn’t want to start now. Ace took two of his fingers and turned you to face him once more. 

“I missed you too,” he whispered and kissed you again. This time it wasn’t leisurely and sweet like you’d been doing before. Ace kissed you like you were his last breath of air, frantically kissing you deeply while tearing off his clothes. You were rapidly taking your own off as you kissed him back just as needy. You felt like you were being consumed by him, the air between you and Ace was electrified. Soon there were no barriers between you, just the two of you naked and kissing on the hotel bed. Your hands were wound in his hair and his were beneath your ass, grinding himself on you while his tongue licked inside your ear.

As soon as your clothes were all off, Ace was a man possessed. He stopped kissing your mouth for a moment and looked down at your breasts. “Just as perfect as I remember,” he said, “been waitin’ years for this.” He dipped his head down and sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, hard. Your lower back arched off the bed as you keened, trying to bring your nipples even closer to his mouth. He popped one out before quickly licking the other, swirling his tongue around the hardened bud. He gently bit it between his front teeth, causing you to moan. He sucked it and laved it with his tongue while massaging your other breast in his large hand. “I don’t think you understand what a chokehold these had on my teenage years,” Ace told you. 

“I’m glad I was able to help you out,” you choked out, barely able to string a sentence together. You knew you were wet, you could feel it between your legs. Ace was still sucking on and biting your nipples, pushing your breasts together so he could access both easily.

“I’ve thought a lot about your tits over the years. There’s a lot I want to try,” he purred at you. 

“Just with my tits?” you asked. You hoped not.

“No, I’ve had some other questions I want answered too. I wanna know what you taste like.” Ace started kissing the underside of your breasts, slowly working his way down your stomach. You giggled as he kissed a ticklish spot. Ace looked up, raising an eyebrow. “Interesting, the invincible woman has a weak spot.” 

“A lot of weak spots for you.” You flushed even as you said the cheesy line. You didn’t know why it came out, Ace made you feel weird things. Ace laughed lightly and continued his journey down your eager body. He spread your legs and planted himself between them. He put his hands under the backs of your thighs and spread you even wider. 

“Fuck, you’re even prettier than I imagined,” he muttered, “so wet for me, so good for me.” You didn’t have time to respond before he dove tongue first into your pussy. He stroked the flat of his tongue up and down your slit, like he was trying to memorize it with his tongue. Pushing your thighs even farther apart, he licked in between your labia, gathering the slick you’d already made. He moaned into you, like you were the finest meal he’d ever had. He touched your clit with the tip of his tongue for the briefest moment before sliding it back down to your hole, making you growl. He nipped your inner thigh. “Hush, you’ll get it,” he answered. He took his time, licking you like a bowl of cream from bottom to top. You were wriggling, trying to get him back to your clit, but his strong arms kept you from moving too much. You weren’t used to Ace taking the reins but you definitely weren’t complaining. 

He had just put his tongue back on your clit to your complete satisfaction when you heard the jingle of keys in the door. You’d deadbolted it as a precaution when you took the room, but that wouldn’t last for long. Ace picked up his head from between your legs, your juice dripping down his face.

“Uh, we should go now. Grab everything,” you whispered. Total buzzkill. But, being arrested for using a hotel room without paying would also be a buzzkill. Ace jumped up, throwing on his clothes. You did the same, throwing on your clothes, grabbing your pack, and making a portal. The two of you had just made it through when the door to the room opened. But by then, you were on Ace’s ship, breathing heavily. You threw down your pack and sat down. You readjusted your clothes and caught your breath.

“Forgot housekeeping comes through sometimes,” you said to Ace. He looked over at you grinning and licking his lips. Your face heated as you realized he hadn’t cleaned up.

“Take it you weren’t paying for the room,” Ace said dryly.

“Not like they were using it,” you replied. “I don’t want to hear from a pirate about the morality of borrowing a hotel room.” 

“Where were the two of you yoi? It’s been an hour and a half,” an annoyed Marco towered over your sitting form. Ace at least looked embarrassed, maybe Marco would forgive him. 

“Uh, getting mineral oil?” you replied. “Which we, uh, forgot back on the island,” you finished  sheepishly.  Marco gave you and Ace a knowing look. 

“Quit it yoi. Have fun on your own time. Mineral oil is in the secondary supply room, next to the engine oil.” Marco walked away muttering something about crushes and time wasted. 

~~~

Ace retrieved the mineral oil while you repacked your bag. You just wanted to make sure that you had everything with you and didn’t forget anything in the room. As you finished, he returned with the book from earlier under his arm as well as the oil and some dry cleaning cloths. 

“Hey, grab the book before I drop it.” You took the book from under his arm as he put down the other things. “Ok, the instructions are on page 294. How do we apply the oil? I think it said multiple thin layers but I might be misremembering.” You fiddled with the pages and opened it to 294. Once on the page you looked down at it, there were a lot of different instructions on the page. You fiddled with the stone on your necklace. “Well, what’s it say?” Ace peered over your shoulder at the book in your hands.

“Umm… let me see…” Ace looked at you. He gave you a strange look as you got more flustered. “Here, you take it, I can’t find the right directions.” You shrugged and handed him the book nonchalantly. He took the book and put it on the deck, seemingly forgetting about the task at hand. He reached out and gently squeezed your upper arm, guiding you to the railing of the ship.

“Dreamy, can you - can you read?” Ace asked quietly, looking at your face as you registered his words. 

“What do you mean can I read? Of course I can read, I just didn’t see -” you started off indignantly, trailing off when you looked at Ace’s concerned face. 

“The directions were at the top of the page. If I give you the book, can you read to me what it says?” Ace was still speaking to you like you’d been hurt and he was trying not to startle you.

“I don’t - that’s not - you don’t -” you sputtered. You were red in the face, and yanked your arm away from Ace’s grasp. But he wasn’t letting go of the topic and he wasn’t letting you escape from him either.

“It’s OK if you can’t, we can teach you.” You bristled at Ace’s calm and non-judgemental words. 

“I don’t need you to teach me anything . I’ve been fine all these years, and I’m fine now.” Ace shrugged, still pinning you with a look. 

“Read me the directions and I’ll drop it.” You felt tears pricking the corners of your eyes. You weren’t sad, you were angry. He was prodding, in public, at your deepest source of shame. 

“Fuck off, Ace.” 

“It’s ok, it’s not a big deal. Everyone has to learn -” 

“And who was going to teach me, hm? My dad who abandoned me? My mom who died? Or maybe the townspeople who made my life a living hell?” You were furious, hissing words at Ace. You saw a few of Ace’s crew members looking over at the two of you. You knew you were getting louder and making a scene but you couldn’t stop. 

“I’m not trying to upset -”

“Well, you’re not trying but you succeeded. At least you had some people who cared about you. You had Luffy and Dadan and your grandpa. And your…friend Makino.” You were furious but you stopped yourself from mentioning his brother. He’d told you once, the only time you’d ever seen him cry, about his brother who’d died, who’d taught him to read before you’d come along. You couldn’t break that confidence.

“I cared about you,” Ace said softly. With that, a tear fell down your cheek. “I still do.” He reached for you again, while you shifted backwards, avoiding his touch. You felt ashamed, overwhelmed, and embarrassed. You were also remorseful that you’d lashed out at Ace who had just been trying to help. You wanted to fix things between you but you were always better at running away than mending.

“I’m gonna go.” You picked up your pack, making a portal with one hand. You needed to get away, to break away from this emotional scene. “Bye, Ace.” You walked through the portal, leaving Ace behind. Again. 

~~~

Or so you thought. As you came through the second portal to an alleyway behind the main street of the town, you were tackled to the ground. “You’re not leaving like that,” you heard Ace say from behind you. You didn’t realize he was so fast - no one had ever chased you through your own portals like that before. He had you on the ground, keeping you in place with his weight. He had your arms pinned to the ground, preventing you from making portals. 

“You can’t just - you can’t -” you couldn’t compute what was happening. 

“What I can’t do is watch you walk away. I did it once and I can’t do it again. Not like this.” He touched his forehead to yours. “Please, let me help you. I want - I need to. I need to help you like you helped me. Please.” Ace finished his statement with a kiss, still holding your arms down above your head.

“Ace I -” 

“Come with me for a little bit. Not forever. Just until the next island. It’s not a commitment, it’s just for now.” He ghosted his lips over yours, looking for you. You didn’t know what to say. You could leave this island, it didn’t really matter when or where you went. Going with Ace was appealing, but you’d had bad experiences with other crews. But maybe this time would be different, you’d be with Ace. 

“Just until the next island?” you asked cautiously. 

“Or you can break my nose again.” 

“I’d break more than that this time,” you said with a small smile. 

“Yeah, maybe my heart,” Ace replied with a cheeky grin. You rolled your eyes with a wider smile before it dropped suddenly off your face. 

“Ace, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I - I - you’re right.” You couldn’t say the words that you were illiterate, it was too painful. Ace gave you a kind smile.

“You don’t need to apologize. Just say you’ll come with me, don’t run away.” Ace’s eyes bored into your own, not giving you anywhere to hide. 

“Alright, alright. Until the next island.” You picked your head off the ground, pushing your lips against his. “Besides, I have a lot more to teach you,” you said with a grin, "you haven't even tried portal sex yet." Ace's eyes widened. It was going to be a fun journey.  

[rafaelaaron]

𝗣𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝘂𝗽 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗵𝗼𝗻𝗲 | 𝗔𝗮𝗿𝗼𝗻 𝗛𝗼𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗻𝗲𝗿

Summary: You comfort Aaron after a tough case

cw: fbi!reader, typical criminal minds violence, mentions of Haley, drinking

Word count: 1.25k

A/N: English is not my first language, sorry for any grammatical mistakes

It's gonna be okay

Everyone needs a bad day

Remember you told me

You're not alone, just pick up the phone

And call me whenever you're feeling lonely

Remember you told me

You're not alone, just pick up the phone

- pick up the phone by Henry Moodie

*

The Counter-terrorism Unit shared the same floor with the BAU, making it easier to keep in touch and check each other's departure and return.

Not that it mattered much.

Except Agent Hotchner and Agent Y/L/N.

The two units were not exactly close nor held a joint investigation frequently. Still, Hotch and you shared a fair amount of time since the first joint investigation which was against numerous bombs installed near tourist attractions in DC.

You had occasional coffee breaks in the hallway sometimes and worked late in Hotch's office together to avoid working alone, both being the infamous workaholics in each other's unit.

“Hey.”

You saw the BAU agents getting out of the elevator, all of them exhausted. Hotch gave you a short nod before disappearing into the bullpen, which was odd for him because he always talked to you, even briefly. Although you were not a profiler, you could read his stress signs only because you spent enough time with him to know that.

“Bad case?”

“Yes, especially to Hotch. We saved a boy, but not his mother. Guess it reminded him of Foyet.”

“That’s awful.”

“Someone needs to talk to him.”

JJ shrugged and waved her hand, walking away. You stood there, biting your lips in concern. Hotch’s look made you worry about him all day at your desk while doing paperwork.

Your mind went back to a certain night several months ago, when he held you in his arms as you cried after failing to save a life in your first joint investigation. He had knocked on your door, asking if you were okay before you collapsed in his arms.

"I feel awful, Hotch."

"Please, don't blame yourself. You did everything you could."

His thumb had gently wiped tears away from your cheeks, smiling softly.

"When you feel bad, just call me. I will come right to you, or at least listen to you when I'm far away."

You had nodded and followed his words, calling whenever you needed his soothing voice and words.

You knew that he would need you too. However, you could tell that he would never call you or come to you, being stubborn. So as soon as you handed the files to your unit chief, you went to the BAU.

“Agent Rossi,”

“Agent Y/L/N. As I know, Aaron went home about 30 minutes ago.”

Rossi said with a wink.

“No wonder you're a profiler.”

You rolled your eyes playfully with a smile and went straight to Hotch's place. You called him first but he didn't answer, worrying you even more.

“Pick up the phone, please.”

You whispered almost desperately, dialing once more. He still didn't answer as you parked your car in front of his apartment.

“Hotchner, open the door before I kick it op—”

Your continuous knock was interrupted by him opening the door.

“Y/N,”

“Aaron,”

“What are you doing here?”

Your stomach dropped seeing him. His hair was messy as if he ran his hand multiple times through it. His tie was loosened and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone. His shoulder was tense and his eyes were slightly red. You could conclude that he had been drinking scotch, but you have never seen him like this.

“Well, uh, JJ told me it was a bad case and since you are too stubborn to call me, I thought it would be better to visit you myself and I don't know, probably just listen to whatever you say?”

You rambled, suddenly not sure if you could help him feel better. Hotch just stared at you for a while before dragging you into his house by your hand. You sat down next to him on the couch, his hand never letting yours go.

“I wanted to answer your call,”

He began after a moment of silence.

“But I didn't want to be a burden to you.”

“You know you never are.”

He dropped your hand, his shoulder slumped. You opened your arm and he hesitantly moved toward you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“The unsub kills the mother and a child in the house, waits for the father to come home, and forces him to kill himself. We could save the child, but not his mother, and his father came home to witness the unsub being arrested. I— I saw him being devastated, and—”

“That reminded you of yourself. And Haley.”

You finished for him, and he nodded, burying his face deeper and letting stray tears seep into your shirt collar. You gently rubbed his back, waiting for him to calm down.

“I’ve got you, Aaron. It’s alright.”

He pulled away eventually, flashing his rare smile bashfully.

“Sorry, Y/N.”

“Don’t be, Aaron. You always try to comfort me, and I am just returning the favor.”

“Thanks. I feel much better now.”

You suddenly had no idea what to do now. You were still worried about him, but you didn’t want to make him more uncomfortable by staying there longer. So you glanced at your wristwatch, realizing it was already past 10.

“It’s late. I gotta go, I guess.”

You rose to your feet and took a few steps toward the front door when he grabbed one of your wrists and pulled you down. His strength had you practically sitting on his lap. Hotch's eyes drifted down briefly to your lips but went back up right after.

“...Aaron?”

“As you said, it's late, and you should stay the night.”

“Aaron, it's fine—”

“It's the least I can do.”

His intense gaze and firm grip around your wrist left no room to argue. You sighed and accepted his suggestion.

“Then I'll use the guest bedroom.”

“No, honey, sleep next to me.”

You blinked your eyes slowly, your brain trying to process that he had just called you 'honey' for the first time, and wanted you to sleep next to him.

“I won't do anything, I promise. I just— I don't think I can sleep alone.”

“Sure.”

You nodded and he led you to the bedroom, handing some of his clothes to you.

You lay on the bed facing him. He was giving you a look you couldn't quite decipher.

“What?”

“Nothing,”

Hotch smiled ever so slightly and you would've missed it had you not known him so well.

“Just, thank you for stopping by.”

“You're welcome, Aaron.”

You returned his smile, but only bigger.

“Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Aaron.”

He watched you sleeping for a while before falling asleep himself, adoring the way you are looking so peaceful.

“Morning,”

Hotch was leaning against the doorframe, each hand holding steamy mugs. His shirt hugged him perfectly, his tie hanging loosely around his neck.

“Morning,”

You replied sleepily, and asked,

“Feel better?”

“Yeah, thanks to you.”

He smiled, genuinely this time. You realized how much you loved to hear his morning voice and see his smile.

“Come on, I made some breakfast.”

“Never knew you could make pancakes.”

“I try.”

"These are amazing, Aaron."

When you finished the pancakes, his 'that' look showed up once again.

“What?”

“Nothing. You need to get changed, right?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I'll drive you home.”

“I drove here yesterday.”

“You can pick up your car later. It's the least I can do."

You shrugged, secretly liking the idea of Hotch driving you home.

When you arrived at the 6th floor of Quantico with him, he whispered,

“Have a nice day, Y/N.”

“You too, Aaron.”

Hotch watched you walk away towards the other side of the hallway for a long time.

[chishnfips87]

My Hero - a P:EG Post-Ch1 fanfic

(Spoilers to P:EG Ch1)

This story takes place following the trial and execution of Eva Tsunaka. We pick up with Damon Maitsu and Kai Monteago returning to the dorm.

Both are visibly shaken up.

Kai: "I... I don't know what to do anymore man..."

Damon: "Well... best we can do is go to sleep. Nothing more we can do."

Kai: "Okay. Also, you get the bed for a few nights. I think you need it more than I do."

Damon looks at Kai in slight surprise, but Kai insists.

Damon: "...Thank you, Kai."

Suddenly, a voice from outside the room breaks the silence.

???: "THAT'S FUCKIN' IT! I'M SLEEPING ELSEWHERE!"

A loud kick at Kai's door is heard, followed by footsteps. Grace Madison, visibly fuming, walks up to the guys just as they were heading to sleep.

Grace: "Damon, out!"

Damon, taken aback: "Wait, what?"

Grace: "You heard me! Beat it!"

Damon: "Oh, come on! Why?"

Grace: "Well A. I'm not bunking with Diana because she keeps talking about Wolfgang, whom she clearly knows nothing about! And B-"

She points at Damon.

"I'm definitely not bunking with you! Especially after you befriended that... that..."

Grace loses her words, her arm lowers as she begins fighting tears. Her cold, tough demeanor becoming weaker.

Damon attempts to muster up something to say.

Damon: "Grace, look, I don't-"

Grace: "Just save it... Go the hell away, you awful son of a bitch."

Grace's mood is now somber. Damon turns to Kai.

Damon: "Come on, man. Back me up here. She can't just throw me out of here, right? Isn't his your room? Don't you have a say?"

Kai, feeling guilt: "...I'm sorry, Damon. I don't think now's the time."

Damon, left with no other choice, sighs and exits Kai's dorm with no words. He shuts the door behind him, walking into the quiet, almost haunting ambience of the hallway. It's not quiet for long, as he hears a faint crying. Damon traces the sound back to Diana Venicia's dorm. He lightly knocks on her door.

Damon: "Diana?"

The crying stops, and a quick gasp is heard. Then, Diana answers the door.

Diana: "O-oh, Damon! Hey."

Damon: "Hey, Diana. I would ask if you're okay, but..."

Diana: "...Please, come in. I need someone to talk to."

He enters Diana's dorm. Diana closes the door behind them, Damon stands across from her.

Damon: "What... happened between you and Grace?"

Diana: "Well... I let her bunk with me, then I tried to comfort her... I tried to help her understand that Wolfgang will... always be with us. I guess she knew something I didn't, because she just snapped at me, then stormed out."

Damon: "Oh... I assume you also heard her kick me out, yeah?"

Diana: "Yeah. I heard everything."

There's a silence for a moment.

Diana: "Eva was right... I deserved it..."

Damon: "Diana..."

Diana: "Damon, I'll never be meaningful to anyone. Whenever I try to help or comfort anyone, they just take me for granted."

Diana becomes even more distraught, tears welling up in her eyes.

"I failed Wolfang. I failed Eva. And now, I'm failing everyone else!"

At this point, Diana breaks down sobbing.

"I CAN'T DO ANYTHING RIGHT!!!"

Damon, after being silent for a few minutes, composes himself and walks over to Diana.

Damon: "Diana, that's wrong."

Diana: *sniffle* "W-w-what?"

Damon: "Diana, you're not useless. You're not stupid. None of this is your fault. Don't say that."

Diana: "W-... What... do you mean?"

Damon: "When you spoke up about your experience seeing Wolfgang, we all thought you were guilty... but, you proved yourself. You're the reason everyone else is still here. You didn't fail Wolfgang or Eva. If anything, wherever they are now, they're probably very proud of you. I'm sure everyone here's proud of you too."

He walks up to Diana.

Damon: "I'm proud of you, Diana. I owe a lot to you."

Diana's sobbing starts to subside as her eyes widen. She takes in the words Damon said, looks to her side, then looks back up at Damon. In this moment, she realizes how much he truly cared about her. She then proceeds to tightly hugs Damon.

Damon's taken aback by Diana suddenly hugging him, but he reciprocates, hugging her back. Diana's crying lessens, as she forms a faint smile.

Diana: "Damon... thank you... for everything. You stood up for me during the trial. If it wasn't for you... none of us would be here. You not only helped me... you saved me..."

She looks up, her eyes meeting Damon's, and puts her hand on the side of his face.

"Damon Maitsu. You're my hero."

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

Hey, you've made it to the end. Thanks for reading my attempt at a fanfiction. Really hope you liked it haha

[rw-ascension-au]

Information.

next

Greetings, Invenot. I come bearing important information.

Have you found the Artificer or something?

You have guessed correctly. I do have a question, though. What happened to her to cause this karma affliction?

It'd be better to ask her yourself.

Another question, if you don't mind - could the 'rot' Hunter speaks of return at any point?

Sorry, Saint. I don't know. Missions are usually too short for it to come back, so even if it will affect her again, I have no idea.

I take it this is the longest mission you've given them, and by extension, me included?

Yeah. They wanted to go on a big adventure or something. I enjoy seeing them happy.

Very well then. Take care.

Bye!

----

(continued under the cut, this is rather long)

Hunter, are you comfortable with answering a few questions about the rot?

Uh, yeah, go ahead.

How long did it take for the rot to develop?

Well, I don't have a clear starting point, but not very long. Why?

I am simply... collecting information. How long do missions usually last?

... Saint. Are you implying something?

Until I have enough information, no.

I've already ascended. I won't rot again.

You seemed upset upon being asked by that weird overseer.

If I start rotting, you can just ascend me.

Invenot said that they removed the ability for whatever reason. My only hypothesis is that they want us to increase the Artificer's karma ourselves.

...

---

Go bug someone else with your questions.

Before I can do that, we most likely should find shelter. Where are the others?

Hunting.

We can meet them in the den. They will understand what to do.

You can go. You're, uh... annoying me.

If that is your wish.

---

Rivulet? Gourmand? What brings you here, before the others?

Riv thought it'd be a good idea to try and do that spinny-spear thing Spearmaster does.

I almost succeeded! Plus, I have a cool bandage thing now! I look tough, right?

It is not up to me to define it. Though I would say that you have been through your own hardships and still retain a high level of optimism that only colony slugpups would carry. That is an impressive feat.

...oh. Cool. Is that yes or no?

It depends on your personal definition. Anyway, if you're both here, I would like to ask something.

Go on.

Do any of you have experience interacting with rot?

Oh! I do! I had to get a rarefaction cell from a rotting iterator! Five Pebbles!

Do you believe hunter could re-gain the rot during our mission?

...

...

I was the medic for my colony. I wasn't trained in dealing with rot, though. That's a specialised kind of medic, whereas I was more trained for helping with general stuff.

Would Hunter be able to endure a journey to a colony, whilst rotting?

I don't know. Plus, rot is never cured, really. Mostly just... delayed.

That might be able to buy us enough time to get to the Void Sea.

The rot might not even happen.

That is our hope, yes.

---

[survivor] We're back!

Where is Hunter?

[survivor] She said she wanted some time to reflect on something.

[monk] Artificer, can I get down now?

Ah, yes, Artificer. May I ask what happened to your karma?

I don't know. Probably something to do with the explosion thing. Or the scavengers. I don't really care.

You need to care in order to ascend.

Why would I want to do so?

You have achieved all you have wanted to, correct?

...mostly.

What is your final goal?

Either to kill every last scavenger or to see those two again.

Which 'two' do you speak of?

My... my pups.

That explains a lot regarding the way you seem to have adopted Monk.

[survivor] and me, kind of.

We should start eating.

And what about Hunter?

I was gonna save some for her.

Do you have fruit of some kind?

I do! I carry some blue fruit in my bag.

I accept the fruit with gratitude, Gourmand.

---

It can't come back.

Right?