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heyhihellosworld · 1 year

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𝗣𝗵𝗼𝘁𝗼𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗽𝗵𝗲𝗿

Lewis Hamilton x reader

Word count: 4,2k

Summary: Your first assignment in your new business seems to be a little too good to be true thanks to one British guy.

Warnings: Fluff, smut

Notes: First time I wrote for Lewis but it was pretty fun. I think this is my first fic without angst, wow. This has been in my drafts for months because I never seemed to be able to finish it but finally I did, its not the best. The smut is horrible as well, sorry x

"Are you ever gonna let that camera go?"

You rolled your eyes at your friends remark, she had been a pain in the ass the whole day. Nagging you about seeing the real thing but you didn't mind her. Photography was why you where here in the first place.

"No, this is what I do, remember?"

You watched up just in time to see her eyes roll, your own almost hurting to not do the same. "Can you at least put it down so we can go and eat, I'm starving" she tried, a whining strain to her voice.

"Only if it makes you shut up" you grumbled, giving her a grin to let her know you were joking with her. "Yeah yeah" she chuckled, clapping her hands together as you put your camera down in its case gently.

"Finally"

You shook your head at her, flinging an arm around her shoulders as you let the camera dangle from your neck "so what do you wanna eat?"

You settled for a sandwich in one of the cafeterias around the paddock, sitting in two of the chairs close to the track while chatting. There was nothing going on at the moment, practice two was just done here in Silverstone.

Your friend seemed in a much better mood after your food and didn't bat an eyelash as you told her you had to get some more photographs around the track. She was more interested in going around to look for drivers since you had access to all the space thanks to your job.

"Then we will go around the garages" you promised, smiling as her face lit up. She had agreed to come this first time since you were too nervous to go alone, she din't know shit about f1 but she found the drivers hot, of course, so she had agreed and despite her ranting and whining from time to time you were grateful she was here. This whole experience was gut wrenching as it was and to be lonely all weekend would have made it even more so.

She stayed in the seat on her phone as you started to move away in the paddock. Getting some close ups on the track and facilities. You had just started in the business, driving your own photography company. It had been rough in the beginning and really scary but with the support of your family and friends you had thrown yourself out there and gone for it and it had already paid off.

So far it was all good, you had gotten multiple assignments, surely pretty small ones like a one to one photo shoot and a couple shoot but it was rolling. This was your first bigger assignment, an assignment taken on from a magazine regarding Formula one and so here you were, photographing and plating their magazine and website.

You pull your phone out to text your friend to meet you by the garage while you walked into the corner. You didn't know a lot about formula 1, probably even less than your friend but you had googled the basics in panic the day before you went to not look like a complete fool, but it was still very new.

You leant against the wall in the far corner, it was pretty calm in the paddock right now, most people being inside their garages, eating or just relaxing in their motor-homes. You flicked through some of the photos you had taken, you were really happy with the result so far. You had all you needed of the race-track and the paddock ones were almost done. Now you needed more inside photos, something that couldn't have been taken by anyone.

You angled your camera again zooming in on the person that where now walking straight to you. He was looking up in the sky as he walked, his cap low and hair sticking out from the back, he was smiling lazily, hands in pockets and he looked amazing, at least through your lence.

You quickly snapped a couple of photos, seeing how the action got his attention, now looking straight at you as you snapped some more before his face turned confused and the pictures didn't turn out as great anymore.

You lowered the camera again, flicking through the few pictures and you couldn't help but smile at how good they looked. This was what you needed.

"Uh, excuse me did you just take pictures of me?" Your head snapped up, falling out of your happy bubble as you were face to face with the man. You swallowed, not really knowing what to say. "Uh-I yeah? Is that not okay?"

The man shook his head "No no, it's all good just weren't prepared for it"

You nodded, smiling up at him, he was definitely as good looking in reality as in your lence. You forced your eyes down, flicking the first pic up on your screen "They got really good, look"

He reached down, a smile making it's way on his face as he hummed "It's really good actually, you think I can get that?"

You thought it over before shrugging "yeah sure"

He got stuck in thoughts, "eh, I can't really give you my phone number..."

You chuckled "Well then it's gonna be hard"

He nodded, "Are you gonna post them somewhere, maybe you can send them on Instagram?"

"Yeah sure, can't guarantee the quality but sure, what's your name"

He blinked at you, one two three times making you feel stupid. "What?"

"Aren't someone who is here to photograph supposed to know the drivers?" he chuckled teasingly, his eyes sparkling as he showed his perfect line of teeth.

"Oh"

Heat covered your cheeks as you realized your mistake

"Lewis Hamilton" he grinned, chuckling as he saw you write it down. "Well that's actually fantastic" you hummed, impressed by yourself even more now, not only a good picture from the inside but an amazing picture of a driver, well done.

"Not to be rude or anything but it dosen't seem like you belong here on a daily basis"

You smiled at him, loving how natural he was to speak with. "Well no not really. I have just started my new assignment to take photos for a magazine and website about formula 1 so here I am. I have never seen the sport before and I have absolutely no clue on what's going on"

He smiled sweetly. "Well, if you want too I can take you around into Mercedes and maybe show you this side of the paddock?"

Your eyes flicked to him, surprised over his offer "Really?"

"Yeah of course, consider it payment for the nice picture"

You chuckled, humming at him "Then it's better be good"

His smile widened as he nodded "It will, come on"

You followed him on the way, it was still fairly empty. Your eyes got stuck on his side profile, he was gorgeous in a way not many where, everything about his face fitting perfectly together, his eyes the softest ones you had ever laid eyes on and his whole person was just.. beautiful.

"So, what's your name?" he asked, looking at you as you quickly moved your eyes to your camera, flicking and clearing through the pictures. "Y/N" you hummed

"So what's this job you've got?"

"Well actually it's my own business. I created my own company a few months ago to be able to do what I wanted to but under my own terms"

"Wow that's really cool" he hummed making you scoff. "What are you saying, you're a freaking race driver" you chuckled, seeing him flash a smile "It's different things"

You arrived at the Mercedes garage and you immediately snapped your camera up, you had gotten strict directives that you couldn't photograph any details nor while they where working on something specific. You could photograph staff and drivers but all photos had to be gone through by the teams before being posted.

You took some stray photos of the workers, the car and on Lewis's back as he walked further into the garage. You pointed the camera down for a little while as he showed you through the area, he told some stories about Mercedes, showed different mechanical things and talked you through the basics of a race weekend. You didn't know whether it was because it was an actual interesting sport or because of the guy who was telling you about it all but you were intrigued.

Lewis dragged you around, watching as you stopped to take pictures every now and then before you left the garage, going out on the street again where your friend was waiting with a sour look.

"Shit i'm so sorry"

She only raised her eyebrows with a small shake of her head but the smile betrayed her. Her eyes snapped and face fell as her eyes landed on Lewis behind you, mouth slightly open as she stared at you. "That is why you left me here?!"

"He showed me around the garage" you chuckled, leading her towards Lewis who looked at the two of you "Right, okay if my friend comes along for the rest of the tour?"

"No of course not" Lewis smile, showing his perfect line of teeth. "Lewis"

Your friend introduced herself, still looking at him like he was from another world.

"Right, I will just run in and grab my water bottle, wait here" Lewis smiled, jogging back into the garage whilst your friend turned to you.

"Wow" she breathed, looking at you with big eyes whilst you chuckled "Who is that?!"

You grinned at her, pursing your lips "Lewis Hamilton, a driver"

She whistled, shaking her head "unbeliveable"

You couldn't help but laugh at her astonishing look. "Calm down, I took a picture of him, we chatted for a few seconds and he offered to take me on a tour around the paddock so I could take some more pictures" you explained, her smile only widening

"Seriously? He offered?"

You shrugged at her excited face "Well yeah, but only because he wanted the picture"

"Sure only because he wa-"

"I'm back, let's go" Lewis smiled as he jogged back up to you. You flashed him a smile before looking at your friend in warning before following Lewis along the road. "If you see any drivers tell me" you hummed, taking your camera in your hands to have it ready to shoot.

"One coming up" Lewis smiled, pointing at a red clothed man standing outside the garage he probably was a part of.

He took you both around the circuit, pointing out in different garages and telling you about them. You sneaked shots here and there, found many of the drivers and filled your camera with perfect photos.

It was really funny to talk with him and it shocked you how humble he was and how natural it was to talk with him. You felt satisfied as you returned to the Mercedes garage.

"He totally wants you" your friend grinned as you watched Lewis walk back to his motor-home to attend a briefing.

You scoffed, looking at her with an eyeroll "absolutely not"

"He does and you totally want him too" she giggled clapping her hands together dramatically. "Shut up"

"I mean I don't blame you, he is fucking unreal but don't try to deny it"

You were just about to talk back to her as your phone interrupted you, hands as a reflex taking it out from your back pocket.

"Who is it?"

Your eyes searched the screen, a smile threatening to break through as Lewis had texted you his number on Instagram.

"He sent me his number"

"And you said he doesn't want you, dummie" she said seriously watching as your face broke out into a huge smile as you read Lewis text

"Thank you for today, it was lovely x"

You saw Lewis the next day as well, after he had texted you to say thanks you had continued texting, the conversation ending in him asking for you both to eat lunch the coming day. An offer you gladly accepted.

The lunch had been smooth, conversation had flowed and after your friend had gotten an unexpected call that lasted for a suspiciously long time you had continued on your own with the British man, learning a few more personal things and having to stop yourself from staring him down as he sat so casually in his chair, looking too good.

It was going towards the end of the weekend and all your photos were done, having today to choose which ones to use.

"So, how many should you have on the track?" Lewis questioned, looking over the exemplars you had printed out of the material "Uhm I can choose but I thought like five?" you murmured, feeling his eyes on you as you scanned over the pictures.

He nodded, humming as he weaved through them, "this one?"

"Nah it's too dark" you disagreed, picking up two other instead "do you think these two goes together?"

A nod confirmed what you had asked and you smiled up at him. "Thank you for helping me this weekend, it's honestly been so much fun" you admitted bashfully, looking down on the chosen pictures with heat covering your cheeks. "No worries, it's been a pleasure" he smiled, watching as you divided the chosen pictures to the others in different folders before putting them back in your bag.

"Anyway, I won't hold you up anymore since i'm guessing you should go get ready for the race?"

"Probably should.." he admitted "but there are no rush" he added, his eyes looking over you intently.

You didn't really now what to say so you stood up, watching as he did the same with an unsure expression over his face before he turned confident, grinning at you as he walked so he stood before you.

"Hey, I forgot to show you my drivers room. I'm sure it would be a big plus if you could get that onto the layup" Lewis suggested, his eyes boring into yours seriously. You knew exactly what he initiated and were his thoughts were going but it didn't face you because it was exactly what you'd been thinking to, what you had wanted since the second you landed your eyes on him.

You thought it over for a second but it was not hard to know what you wanted. "Yeah maybe that would give me a favor" you hummed, looking up at him with a smug grin. He flashed you a quick smile before grabbing your arm and leading you over the paddock and to the Mercedes garage.

This time he didn't talk nor show you around just ushered you into his drivers room, closing and locking the door behind him

"Just for some privacy" he grinned as you jokingly raised your eyebrows at the man.

"Of course" you chuckled meeting him as he walked towards you. "You need to say no if you don't want this"

"I want this" you hummed, loving how his breath fanned your face and how his eyes sparkled in the light.

"Fuck your so sexy" he groaned as you bit your lip, blinking up at him innocently.

You couldn't stop your huge grin as you let your hands crawl up his body to his hair, one hand pulling him down to you so that you could meet his lips.

He answered the kiss immediately, not hesitating a single second before absolutely devouring you, kissing you with a brutal force. His teeth clashed with yours, his tongue swiping over your lips before fighting its way into your mouth, challenging yours for dominance.

His body pressed into you making you feel all of him. He walked you backwards until you reached the couch where he spun you around, sitting down on the couch before urging you to sit on his lap.

You stared down at him, his intense look almost daring you to sit down and take control.

You bent your head down, tilting his chin up with your hand before your mouth met his again. This time you put up a fight, trying to gain the dominance but he had the upper hand, slowly guiding you to straddle him, getting all the control back. He pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes with an amused glint, lips tilting into a smirk.

"I let you straddle me and suddenly you think you can take control?" he tutted, stroking your chin with his thumb. "That's not how it works here sweetie" he murmured, his voice making your eyes roll in annoyance.

He tutted again, his fingers brushing up over your chest, teasingly running over your collarbone until he wrapped his fingers around your throat, not squeezing but just holding while he stared into your eyes.

One of your hands came to hold his hand over your throat, staring back at him, challenging him but deep down you knew you didn't stand a chance.

He kissed you again, holding you still with his hand as he took control without a problem. You hummed into the kiss, letting your other hand travel up his body and to his neck, combing your fingers through his hair and pulling him more firmly against you. Your hips started to move against him looking as his face faltered for a moment, lips parting slightly and eyes falling close at the stimulation.

"Hmm" you teased, grinding against him again, even harder than the first time, loving the small sound he let out as you did so. His hand squeezed around your throat, like a warning to not get ahead of yourself, but you loved that little control you'd gained from your movements.

The other hand that wasn't around your throat flew to your hip trying to control your movements. This time it was you who tutted, taking his hand of your hip and holding it down. You knew you didn't stand a chance if he really wanted to keep it there but he let you do as you wanted at the moment.

"Enjoy it whilst it lasts" he said lowly squeezing your throat again but it only made you smirk. Lips catching his again, moving softer against them this time, sweetly licking his bottom lip before entangling your tongue with his, humming into his mouth.

He had enough as you sucked down his neck, small purple marks littering his throat, his eyes closed involuntarily, his breath getting heavier as you found the right spot.

"Okay okay I think you have gotten enough" he growled, standing up with you before close to dropping you down on the couch again, quickly climbing on top of you, completely controlling you body as he gripped your neck and slammed his lips against yours, hips grinding roughly into yours making you pant. You were so so ready for him to do something, anything.

Lewis felt the same, dick impossible hard straining in his jeans. His hands tugged at the fabric of your shirt snatching it off your body simply and quickly, a gasp leaving your mouth at the rough movement.

He unbuttoned your jeans but before he could tug them off you stopped him, his eyes snapping to yours with worry he had crossed a boundary but you just smiled, stroking his chin before tugging on the button of his t-shirt. Feeling slightly vulnerable being the only one bare.

He immediately caught on to what you wanted and tugged the shirt over his head, throwing it down on the floor.

You drank in his bare torso, fingers reaching out to touch his stunning body. Fingertips tracing his many unbelievably sexy tattoos, sliding over his defined muscles slowly. Slowly teasing his torso before slowly sliding down to where his jeans sat, fingers dipping in the hem of them, Lewis watched your every move, letting you take your time to touch him and feel him up. He didn't actually have that much time but he didn't care, he would take the time.

Your hands reached his zipper, his eyes trained on your hands, a deep breath exhaling as you unzipped and pushed his jeans down.

He stood up, stepping out of his jeans before snapping back into action. His fingers unzipped your jeans and helped them off of you, drinking in your bare body with widened eyes.

"You're really really beautiful" he murmured, leaning over you again as he mouthed wet kisses up your side. "You are too" you murmured back, meeting his lips in a soft sweet kiss.

He gently rolled on top of you again, helping you crawl up so you were half sitting against the arm of the couch, his hands gently squeezed your boobs through the material of your bra and soon one of the hands abandoned your torso, moving down to your thigh.

His eyes met yours with a serious question hanging in them but all you did was nod, it was what you wanted, what you needed. With that his hand slid upwards, gently rubbing your sensitive clit over the rough material of your lace panties. Your eyes closed shut at the sensation, lips parting as a heavy breath came through.

You opened your eyes long enough to see his cocky smirk but you didn't feel like stopping him to put him in his place, not when what he did felt so good.

You bucked your hips, trying to signal for him to take them off. Lewis looked at you with hot eyes, licking over his bottomlip before his fingers moved upwards, slowly peeling your underwear off.

You couldn't help but let out a small huff as you core was exposed to the cold air. You'd never felt so needy before and especially not after only seeing the guy for barely a weekend. It was like your body was on fire from his touch and you were drunk on the feeling

When he didn't move into action again but only looked at you you lost patience, grabbing his wrist to make him touch you again.

The deep chuckle he let out was set to annoy you but when his fingers circled your clit again it was all forgotten.

"Fuck Lewis" you whined, your hips moving on their own accord to make him touch you just right. "That's it?" he murmured, eyes searching for yours. You didn't answer with more than a hum eyes glazing over.

"Okay stop" you breathed as you felt your orgasm coming, not wanting to come already.

Lewis looked at you confused, not seeing why he couldn't make you cum like this but he didn't question it, stopping as you wished.d

"Can you tell I haven't been laid in months?" you chuckled, trying to gather yourself from the overwhelming feeling.

Lewis chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before connecting his lips with yours again. You let your hands explore again, feeling him down his stomach, loving the way his tense muscles felt under your fingertips.

You let them dip into the hem of his boxers, teasing him before snapping the clothing back onto his skin. You loved the way he looked at you, the way his eyes dilated and the way his tongue stuck to the side of his lips. He was mesmerizingly beautiful but he was just as hot.

He quickly discarded his boxers, tired of the material stopping you both and you gave him a cheeky grin as you watched him before your hand started to stroke him gently.

The moan he let out stuck in your ears as you continued. Not getting to carry on for too long as he soon pushed your hand away "need to be inside you" he breathed, your skin fluttering in anticipation.

"Fuck, fuck fuuuck" you groaned, your whole body arching as he bottomed out inside of you.

It felt timeless as he thrusted inside of you. Your eyes fluttering shut every other moment and all that left your mouth was moans and whines.

You felt drunk on him, something you hadn't felt in a very long time and something you wouldn't expect to feel after the pretty causal weekend you'd spent together. But it was all pent up tension and excitement.

You couldn't tell how long time had gone as Lewis trusts became erratic, his small moans and breathy breaths getting more and more pressured and his head fell back more and more. When he lifted your legs over his shoulders it was a done deal, your moans getting stuck in your throat, your eyes rolling as you came hard, making Lewis cum with you only moments later. His deep groan filling the room.

You didn't know where he had went, to tired to care as he had murmured something after pulling out of you but when you felt the bed dip you opened your eyes, turning to look at him.

"You're really beautiful" he murmured lowly, one hand stroking your face lovingly as your eyes felt to heavy to keep open

"You are too"

#f1 #formula one #f1 imagine #f1 fanfiction #f1 fanfic #f1 imagines #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton imagines #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton fluff

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bailey-dreamfoot · 3 months

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Hermitcraft Incorrect Quotes Compilation! [But its mostly Grian, Mumbo, and Scar]

I generated these a a while ago, they’ve been sitting in my drafts unfinished for like months. There's some references to ships incuded, as well as *slightly* suggestive lines and jokes, but nothing explicit, obviously.

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Mumbo, setting down a card: Ace of spades.

Grian, pulling out an Uno card: +4.

Scar, plling out a Pokeon card: Jolteon, I choose you!

Iskall, trebling: What are we playing?!

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Pearl: Iskall, you're such a genius!

Iskall: Yes, I know.

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Grian and Mumbo: *accidentally set the kitchen on fire*

Grian: We need an adult!

Mumbo: Grian, you are an adult!

Grian: We need an adultier adult! Get Iskall!

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Scar: Jail is no fun. I'll tell you that much.

Mumbo: Oh, you've been?

Scar: Once. In Monopoly.

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Grian: Sometimes I wonder if I'm hearing voices.

Grian: Then I remember that's the last bit of sanity I have trying to get me to fall asleep at a reasonable time.

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Scar: Are You having another depressive episode?

Grian: A depressive episode?

Grian: I'm having a depressive series and we're just on season one.

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Grian: Goddamn it, the printer broke while printing out Scar's birthday invitations.

Mumbo: Well, what are they supposed to say?

Grian: "Scar's Birthday" .

Mumbo: So what do they say instead?

Grian: "Scar's Bi" .

Mumbo:

Mumbo: Works out either way.

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Mumbo: You saved me! Why?

Grian: People would think I murdered you if I didn't.

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Mumbo: Sometimes I'll start a sentence and I don't even know where it's going. I just hope I'll find it along the way.

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Grian, about Scar: They're speaking in some kind of French.

Mumbo: Let me handle it. I speak Spanish. It's the same thing.

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Mumbo, holding a fork: You know, you're talking a lot of shit for someone who has 2 perfectly good eyeballs each selling for about $16,000 on the blackmerket.

Iskall: ....

Mumbo: *lip smack*

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Grian: Something's off.

Scar: Maybe you've finally developed human emotions and feel bad for hurting people.

Grian: No, but that's funny.

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Scar: I mean- Grian's just standing there now.

Scar: Waiting for me I guess.

Scar: But it's okay, I think they've pretty much settles down.

Mumbo: Settled Down?

Scar: Well, they only stabbed me once.

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Mumbo, Grian and Scar: *screaming*

Iskall: *runs into the room* What's wrong Scar?

Mumbo: Wait, why are you asking Scar that when Grian and I are also here?

Iskall: Because Scar wouldn't scream unless it's an emergency. You two scream whenever you have the chance.

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Grian: *running towards Mumbo with open arms*

Mumbo: *moves out of the way*

Grian: Hey, why'd you move?!

Mumbo: I thought you were going to attack me.

Grian: I was going to hug you!

Mumbo: Why would you hug me?

Grian: WHY WOULD I ATTACK YOU!?

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Mumbo: Would you slap Grian-

Pearl: Yes.

Mumbo: I didn't even finish!

Pearl: Sorry, continue.

Mumbo: Would you slap Grian for 10 dollars?

Pearl: I would do it for free.

Grian: Rude...

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Grian: Is something burning?

Mumbo, leaning seductively on the counter: Just my desire for you~

Grian: Mumbo, the toaster is literally on fire.

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Iskall: *Locks Grian in the car* Act like a child, get treated like a child.

Grian: What? Isn't it illegal to leave a child locked in the car?

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Iskall: How would you like your coffee?

Mumbo: As dark and bitter as my soul.

Iskall, shouting to someone behind the counter: I need one vanilla latte with extra cream and sugar!

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Mumbo: Did Grian just tell e they loved me for the first time?

Scar: Yeah, they did.

Mumbo: And did I just do finger guns back?

Scar: Yeah, you did.

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Mumbo, looking through their clothes: Has anyone seen my jacket?

Iskall: Grian's in the kitchen.

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Grian: I'm gonna mix a can of Red Bull with seventeen shots of expresso in a fishbowl and then chug it while Kids by MGMT plays in the background so I can perceive twenty-three spatial dimensions at once.

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Iskall: Don’t weep for the stupid. You’ll be crying all day.

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Mumbo: You borrowed a crane?

Grian: Not exactly.

Iskall: You stole a crane?!

Grian: Exactly.

(This one fits so well with Grian’s fisherman hut its not even funny)

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Grian: I think it's time to start fucking some shit up.

Mumbo: Oh no.

Grian: More like "oh yes!"

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Grian: You played me!

Iskall: Like the cheap kazoo you are!

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Mumbo: Some of us are still ‘it’ from a childhood game of tag.

Pearl: Way to just fuck me up on a Tuesday.

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Scar: I am the most responsible person in the group.

Mumbo: …You just set the kitchen on fire.

Scar: Yes, and I take full responsibility for that.

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Mumbo, looking at a selfie of Iskall’s: I hate this photo.

Iskall: I’m cute as fuck in that photo! I’m smiling kindly.

Mumbo: You’re not smiling kindly; you look like you’re up to something.

Iskall: Up to kindness.

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Hopefully yall enjoyed that :3

#bailey’s ramblings #hermitcraft #incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes hermitcraft #hermitcraft incorrect quotes #grumbo #scarian #its the whole boatem crew but tbh just foucuses on my fave poly uwu

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ratfuzz · 1 year

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poly kyle x reader x stan headcanons [part 1]

a/n: gah, i wanted to make one post at first, but then i forgot half of what i wanted to write and this already has been sitting in my drafts for too long, so yeah, posting it now (i actually remember some but i don't know how to write it properly). i will try to post more next week!! also i get a bit silly in some of the parts, sorry for that (they're not sorry guys)

when your relationship only started kyle kind of felt left out even if you and stan spent your time mostly with him, but that's because poly relationships is something new to him. it was hard for kyle to get over his jealousy.

it got better later on!! it was long and hard way of acceptance of his own feelings (not like you and stan didn't have your own troubles with it). well he wasn't alone on it.

it took y'all a several months to understand each other's feelings and what each of you wants in this relationship.

kyle even read some books about poly relationships (don't laugh at him, he just wants you all to feel good and loved)

stan was much more cool about this relationship tho.

he's not good with words but he always was there for you two, comforting by hugs and pats mostly or just by sitting with you.

well, generally it's pretty sweet relationship, even though not as balanced as it could be.

kyle would defend your relationship like his life depends on it. any polyphobic bitch should look out if they don't want their teeth kicked in the head.

stan is pretty defensive about it too but he wouldn't get too physical

if two of you want to have a day just with one partner, then it's a fucking fight. (but stan and kyle mostly rely on you here actually)

group hugs yippieee!! sometimes you all just stay hugging for some time not even talking and then understand that you're holding each other for like an hour or two

if you're sleeping together, then most likely stan will be almost always in the middle, because he's the most touch starved bitch out of you all. but you switch places sometimes, either just because "why not?" or because one of you is feeling down and that would make them feel better or safe

if you happen to be in the middle, kyle would totally bury his head in your neck

...but stan will most likely turn you so you face him and kyle will have nothing to do but continue what he was doing just with your back now (kyle is so angry at stan for doing shit like this, lol)

because stan often has nightmares he might cling to you or kyle, also his nightmares are another reason why he sleeps between you two most of the times, he just might fall on the floor otherwise.

kyle and stan like to hug and kiss you from both sides a lot

while hugging stan loves putting his head on your chest, so he could listen to your heartbeat and kyle loves to put his chin on your head

if you're making out with stan and kyle is sitting somewhere beside you two, he's going to wither you with a look

he does like the view, but he just wants to do the same with each of you (so it kind of turns into series of kissing often)

if one of you starts to feel left out y'all will try to find something that you three can do together (game night!! game night and lots of cuddling!!!!)

a/n: yes, that's all i got rn, shush (saying this lovingly)

#south park x reader #south park x y/n #south park x you #kyle broflovski x reader #kyle broflovski x y/n #kyle broflovski x you #stan marsh x reader #stan marsh x y/n #stan marsh x you

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apprenticestanheight · 7 months

Text

Work Stress- Adam Stanheight x gn! reader

ALLLLLLL RIGHT, welcome to the monthly "my mental health is shit" fic that I bestow upon the people whenever my mental health isn't as great as it could be, which--in fairness--is nearly all the fucking time.

Two of these might be coming out this month, though! I have not had the greatest streak of days without anxiety lately and I write fics whenever it gets really bad. The day I finished this one, I was like "I am going to write something. for chainshipping (again)" so a chainshipping fic will probably be out by the end of the week

On some other notes, A: while it's not explicitly stated, the reader is what's traditionally considered midsized as that's what I am and I wanted to write a fic with my body type. As per usual with me, the reader is generally gn but as I know the anatomy best, they're AFAB. B: requests are starting to get looked at! I have one waiting to be finished, edited and posted sitting in my drafts but otherwise will have probably looked through and decided which requests I will do vs which ones I won't by the time this has been posted. Things will probably start coming out at the end of this week and keep coming out into next.

Fic type- this jumps into a lot of differing areas, but the main genres are quite possibly the oddest combination I've ever written--smut and angst.

Warnings- as this fic contains smut it caters to an audience of people 18+, so minors, DO NOT INTERACT. There is A LOT here--p in v, oral (both recieve, even if on Adams end the oral is only mentioned), doggy style, fingering, petplay kind of (I was trying to think of a gender neutral petname and puppy was the only thing my brain could think of at first. It's literally just used as a petname and gets overshadowed by 'baby' after a point bc I remembered that that word existed--I wrote a lot of this while tired, pls take some of the stuff in it with a grain of salt), as for sfw warnings: there's a mention of loss of appetite in relation to extreme stress

It's no secret to Adam that you've been having a very, very rough year.

You've been living together since just a couple weeks after he'd escaped the trap--he was taken from his apartment and found it too anxiety inducing to stay there so you let him move into yours.

You'd been dating since you were twenty one and at twenty six, moving in was bound to happen eventually, but getting out of his lease was taking a hell of a lot more time than Adam had originally anticipated.

He noticed every rough day in the bags that you'd begun to sport underneath your eyes, how late you came to bed and your reluctancy to be very affectionate with him--whenever things got bad, be it at work or with stuff going on in your head, you withdrew and pushed him away--and in the fact that you weren't eating as much, in that you always looked like your mind was somewhere else, wandering off completely.

So, one day near the middle of November--where he'd started to notice your bad days in very early March--he joins you in the kitchen while you speak to one of your bosses via phone call.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, grabs your hand, gives it a squeeze. He wants to cheer you up--you're prone to bad days due to insecurity and because of a long-standing not so great track record where your mental health is concerned--and, in that particular moment, finds himself willing to do anything.

You give your best go at grinning back at him, but it comes out looking like more of a grimace. You let Adams hand go to run a stressed hand through your hair, returning your hand to Adams and letting him interlace your fingers thereafter.

"Yes," you whisper. "I understand that things are always tough in the last quarter, but--" you sigh dejectedly as your boss cuts you off, and Adam presses another kiss to your forehead, letting his lips linger for a minute.

"Yes, Earle--but you're not seeing the point here. I'm eligible for the raise because I've kept the teams afloat! The only reason you're not also eligible for the raise is because you took an eight month vacation with PTO that you quite literally stole from other employees, myself included, and just because Monica isn't willing to fire you over that doesn't mean your actions didn't warrant alternative punishments," you lean forward, press a kiss to Adams shoulder. Adams grin widens slightly as he notices that you're visibly relaxing from his touches.

A solid two minutes of shouting pass by on the other end. Adam gives your hand a supportive squeeze whenever Earles voice raises another octave in his shouting, pressing kisses against your temple when you let him pull you into a half hug. He keeps hold of your hand when the position changes, your torso pressing against the counter as Adam stands in front of you.

"Earle--I am eligible for the raise because you took six weeks of PTO from me, which I only get thanks to our companies union," You snap. "Now, because I had to spend so much time doing my fucking job, unlike you, I'm eligible for enough of a raise to make me capable of buying a home by '06, and if you're pissed off at me for that, I genuinely cannot help you any further. I have a boyfriend who I would much rather be talking to over your sorry arse, so I'm going to hang up now and if you call me back, I will ignore it. Have the day you deserve, asshat."

You hang up the phone and sigh, gaze meeting Adams in an instant.

"'M sorry," you whisper, biting your top lip for a few seconds as you look at him. "Work has been a fuckin' mess since like, the end of February. I just--damn it all."

"Eh, Earle sounds like a dickhead," Adam laughs. "How does one even get away with--eight full months? Of PTO? How?"

"Per the union agreement we have, we get six weeks a year," you start. "It's why I'm always off in December--I like staying home when it gets cold, gives me an excuse to read and drink more tea than I should--but we've moved to digitizing off time recently. Took the six weeks I'd planned to pace between the end of this month and all of next and switched them up for himself. Did that with five other employees and still, Monica doesn't fire him. Just makes me eligible for a raise of fifteen dollars on company dime because the off time I lost out on forced me to do more while I was there. Our company has one hundred and eighty-six employees in the Jersey branch and a bunch of 'em like taking spaces in the last six months of the year off, so it was me managing two teams of eighty people. Not easy work at all."

Adam blinks. "Did Monica even offer to give you the PTO back?"

"She gave me hers," you shrug. "Earle can have a lot of fuckin' fun managing one hundred and sixty people by himself. I'll find out if I get the raise tomorrow morning and my PTO will kick in then, too. He can eat shit as far as I'm concerned, I have a long list of books and two boxes of my favorite tea to drink my way through as of tomorrow."

You let Adam lead you into your shared bedroom, humming as you lay down on your bed and close your eyes.

"Are you okay?" Adam asks.

"Been a very, very stressful eight months," you laugh. "Trying to think of what I need and only one thing continually comes to mind."

"What's that?" You can hear the eagerness behind the teasing tone in Adams voice.

"I need--uh--" You laugh, suddenly feeling a little awkward. Propositioning Adam for sex was not typically done with words but kisses and your hands on his chest, relishing in the way that he looked when he lead you to your bedroom and fucked you senseless.

"Go on, baby," Adam whispers, his lips suddenly near your ear. "Gonna say it?"

You hum, suddenly embarrassed at yourself, and Adam laughs.

"Use your words, puppy," He whispers, pressing a kiss against your earlobe. "How am I supposed to know what you want me to do if you don't use your words?"

You moan helplessly in response.

"You really are cute," Adam says. "Tough while at work, one phone call later and now you're helpless that you can't even speak. Can't even say one word."

"Adam," you breathe, both because it's the one word that's coming to mind and also because you know he loves the way you say his name when all you want is for him to fuck you.

"Good puppy," Adam presses a kiss to your cheek. "Tell me what you want me to do, mm? I'll do whatever you want, but if you want me to fuck you, know that you'll be in bed for a long time once we go to sleep. You're going to come a lot tonight, puppy. You deserve it."

You moan in response. "Please," you whisper.

"You want me to fuck you, puppy?"

"Yeah," you nod. "Adam--I need you to. Don't wanna think anymore. In eight months, I've thought enough for eight lifetimes. Fuck me senseless, please."

"Whatever you want," Adam says, pulling you into a long kiss that has your head spinning.

You spend the next few minutes like that, in a kiss that's so intense, so loving and so fucking good that you wonder how you've been able to go so long being fine with quick kisses and self gratification.

The first kiss reminds you of how amazing it is to be kissed by Adam whenever the more dominant side of him comes out for a bit of fun, the way that his hands anchor themselves on your hips before one slides up your torso to cup your face, the sureness of his tongue in your mouth--everything feels amazing, and it's almost like it's too good to be true.

And then Adam pulls away for air and your eyes are opening and his lips are against your clothed shoulder, breathing in deeply with a smile on his face.

"I'm sorry we've not been--well--" you start. Adam tilts your chin upward and presses a kiss on the underside of your jaw. "I've been a terrible--"

"I've missed this, sure," Adam says, pressing another kiss against the underside of your jaw. "Yeah. Of course I've missed it, Y/N, but I absolutely understand that you've been busy. Work has kept me busy, too, so I'm just glad we can have tonight. I've missed you so much and I just wanna make you forget about how shitty the past months have been. Wanna make sure the only word you remember how to stay is my name, and that's what I'm going to do tonight, puppy. Sounds good?"

You nod eagerly, which makes Adam laugh as the hand that's on your hip gives it a squeeze.

Your gaze becomes affixed to a random point on the ceiling as Adams kisses rove across the scope of your neck, one hand on your jaw to move your head whenever he wants better access.

After a point, you start to realize that his kisses are getting longer and not too long thereafter you realize that Adam is carefully laying hickeys over your neck and is taking his time with doing it.

You want to murmur a quip, do something to jab at the possessiveness hickeys usually carry, but right as you go to do so his lips and tongue find a home on the pulse point on the right side of your neck and all you can do is moan softly, one hand finding his hair.

"Adam," you whisper. "Fucking hell, Adam--you're going to drive me insane. Please don't stop."

You hear Adams laugh, slow, amused, a little sadistic. "Well, if I'm the one who drives you to insanity, I think that means I'm the one who has to pull you out of it, doesn't it, puppy?"

With the use of that one, silly nickname, you're reduced to what is basically a human shaped puddle, and Adam knows it. Whenever he calls you his puppy in a slightly dominant tone, your knees are at risk of giving out and the look you give him is tantamount to torture if he intends to tease you until you're begging.

"Mhm," you hum, moaning as Adams lips press in a peck against your pulse point. "Also means the same if you put me into subspace with all this foreplay, Adam."

Adam grins, and you let him tilt your chin so that your head turns to meet his gaze.

"Of course," he says. "I'm basically an aftercare god, despite the fact that Scott dunked on me for it while believing a cigarette afterwards is anything less than the bare minimum--I'll take good care of you once the session is done, puppy. I promise."

Your shoulders relax at the reassurance, and you grin as Adams lips press against your forehead.

You nod after a second. "Okay," you say. "I--thank you, for this. Pre-emptively."

Deep enough into subspace and you'll borderline on mute, only able to focus on how Adams ministrations feel. You have no doubt he intends to take you there tonight, so you feel the need to thank him before you slink that far in and have to wait for it to wear off to speak a coherent sentence to him again.

"We both need it, so it's my pleasure," Adam says, starting to undo the buttons of the black long sleeved button up you'd worn to work and had yet to take off that day. "And yours--it's both of us. I promise I'll start getting more dominant in a sec, these buttons hate me."

You laugh a little, helping him undo the rest of the buttons. "They're square. They hate everybody, me included. Getting this shirt on was a nightmare this morning and I've been reminded as to why I never wear the damn thing."

Adam uses the small of your back to guide you off the bed just enough to be able to completely take the shirt off, following it by the oddly quick--Adam is very, very good at undoing the pesky little hooks that hold bras together, oddly--removal of your bra.

His lips are on yours again, one hand on your bare hip while the other finds itself cupping your face, tongue gliding across your lip in asking for entrance which you grant as your arms wrap around his shoulders.

Kissing Adam in moments like that is always amazing--kissing him has been one of your favorite things since your romance started, even quick and chaste kisses that don't last more than a few seconds. Kissing Adam has never ceased to be an absolute delight, whether it led to sex or was used as an alternative form of "hello" "goodbye" "good night" or "good morning."

And then his lips start traversing down your neck once more, and then they go further.

Adam starts draping kiss after kiss across your torso, lips pressing against you in a way that allows his tongue to poke through his teeth as he kisses you with his mouth slightly open. Every single touch of his cold tongue against your warm skin makes you clench around nothing, quickens your heart rate and feels so impossibly delightful. Adam is kissing you in a way that damn near drives you insane, and you feel yourself sinking into how good his lips and tongue feel against you as he delivers praise between kisses.

"Such a good puppy for me, mm?" Adam murmurs when he's close to your belly button. "Taking all of this so well even though you probably just want me inside you already. Such a good cumdump for me, puppy. Perfect."

You hum in response, eyes drifting down to meet his gaze as he looks up at you. He smiles, briefly, before continuing with his kisses, letting himself spend a lot of time on your hips before his kisses rove across your stomach.

He kisses along your v-line slowly and in a way that makes you want to start begging, hands roving up from your hips to your biceps.

He glances at you for a second in the asking, waiting for you to nod. You do so and Adams hands move to your pants, taking them off along with your underwear before laughing at himself.

"I've got you here, lookin' fucking perfect," he says, kissing your bicep. "And yet I'm still clothed."

Your hands go to the hem of his shirt and he lets you pull it off, kissing the side of your shoulder as he watches you toss it near the laundry hamper in the far left corner of the room. Next come his pants and his boxers, which Adam takes off in a manner that's somehow effortless despite his continued kisses to your biceps throughout the process.

"I forget how much I love your arms until I'm kissing your biceps again," Adam says, laughing a little. "Fuck, baby. Your arms are fucking gorgeous."

You hum, pressing your head into the pillow behind you as Adams kisses start up again and his hands start wandering. One settles against your face, cupping it softly, and the other goes wandering delightfully down your torso, not stopping until his fingers are millimeters above your clit.

He pauses, gaze meeting yours in a way that feels almost a little sadistic.

"Gonna make you come so many times tonight, baby," he says. "Safe word?"

"Hibiscus," you whisper. It's a precaution for when you get really kinky, a word you came up with but, five years into your relationship, have yet to actually use.

Adams lips press against the center of your collarbone, "good puppy," he whispers against the skin.

His fingers start making slow, tantalizing circles around your clit, and his kisses continue, roving down your torso and staying in the general area of your hips and stomach.

A few minutes pass you by, and right when Adam has picked up the speed and is bringing you to the edge of an orgasm, he stops.

When he notices the disappointment in the way your head falls back onto the pillow, he wastes no time in licking his fingers clean of the wetness spread across them.

"Didn't think I'd let you come so soon, did you, puppy?" Adam moves up, lips near your ear. "I did say I'd make you come multiple times tonight, but I said nothing of letting you do so without a little edging first. Gonna edge you until the sun goes down, at least, and then make you cum until at least one or two in the morning. Gonna call in sick tomorrow, too, so that I'm not worrying about waking up and going into work."

"How much more time until the sunset?" You ask. It's four--the sunset can't really be so far off, can it?

"An hour," Adam says. "But--to be fair, a lot more can be done in an hour than one might think. Also--eight hours between five and one am. Assuming that the session exhausts you, you'll probably wake up close to noon tomorrow, but there's snow in the forecast and I'll probably make you a cup of tea if I wake up before you do."

You hum. "Thank you, Adam," you whisper. He kisses you deeply, and you can still taste yourself on his tongue.

"Don't thank me," he says when he's pulled away. "It's what good partners do, especially when I'll have practically rearranged your guts and it'll be a reward for doing good anyway."

You laugh. Adam presses a kiss to your forehead as his hands once again ground themselves on your hips and yours find his shoulders, holding him close.

"I love you, baby," he says. "Sorry that work has been shit."

"I love you too," you respond. "And--that's not your fault. Please don't blame yourself for mistakes that aren't yours, Adam. Please, just kiss me. Wanna forget about work and stupid fucking Earle--just wanna think about how good it feels to be touched and kissed by you. Please."

Adams lips press against your forehead again, his hands cupping your face.

"Gonna make sure you do," he says. His lips move to your biceps again, and you shudder an intake of breath as he leaves a hickey in the wake of one of his kisses.

You have a thought to call him a hickey fiend but don't--the risk of joking with him when Adam is in dom mode is not worth the reward even slightly.

His kisses trail down your face to your neck, and from your neck to your chest. You moan a little when his lips find your nipples, biting gently as his hands give your hips a contented squeeze.

Your head falls back onto the pillow beneath it, and you smile slightly as you hear Adams contented hum as he kisses along your chest from one nipple to the other.

The next several minutes are spent in pretty much the same state. Adam kisses your chest and neck with an open mouth, tongue all too eager to leave a trail of saliva behind his kisses. He's mostly quiet as he goes about it, but every time he does something to make you moan his hands squeeze your hips in acknowledgement.

And then his lips move to your stomach, spending an absurd amount of time leaving hickeys in the less obvious places. He spends more time on your hips which tells you you'll have dark hickeys to look forward to once you have the time to investigate the state of your body in a mirror, but he's not always the dominant one when you two are having sex--you'll find your moment where he's in a particularly submissive mood and douse his body with light-ish hickeys in some very obvious spots.

His lips move down to your thighs, and his gaze meets yours.

"You're feeling all right?" He asks, lips pressing gloriously against the top of your right thigh. "Need you to make space for me, puppy. Haven't paid your thighs attention in so fucking long--'nother minute of waiting and I will go insane."

You laugh as you spread your legs and Adam positions himself in between them, lips moving across your thighs as his arms slip under them and his hands find your hips.

The amount of attention he devotes to your legs alone is almost a little excessive--it takes him ten minutes before he's content to move from your right leg to your left, and then he's focusing on that leg just as long.

Then again--Adam has always loved your thighs. You've had moments of insecurity that they were too big to handle but he's always met your insecurity with reassurance, promised that he'd tell you if he was having trouble breathing whenever he asked you to sit on his face. He loves your thighs and your biceps, which are two of the areas where you find most of your insecurity.

And then you feel his breath against your folds, and you breathe in deeply while clenching around nothing.

"Wanna taste you, puppy," Adam says. You're nodding eagerly before he can even finish the sentence, wondering how it was that you managed to go eight months without feeling Adams mouth over your folds, his lips on your clit.

Adam is good at giving oral--he is fucking amazing at it, and as his tongue presses flat against your folds, his gaze holding yours, you find that it seems he's still as good as he was eight months ago.

His tongue runs through your folds for a very long few seconds before it presses against your clit. You moan at the contact, eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head as his tongue moves in circles around the bundle of nerves.

His tongue moves back to your folds, and your hand goes to his hair. You don't hold him in a tight grip or anything, just enough to ground yourself and keep yourself from slipping away.

It's hard not to slip into it, though. The grip that Adam has on your hips, the way he's eating you out like a man starved and that goddamned nickname he always uses whenever he's domming. All of it is so much combined, so much after eight months, and all you want to do is slip into subspace and just let Adam use you however he wants.

He keeps going until you're so close--teetering on the edge, nearly ready to come on his face--and then he stops, pulling away with a glistening mouth to take a breath.

And then he's lifting himself off of you, pulling himself up to press kiss after kiss after kiss to the spot where your neck meets your shoulder, and his hand is cupping your face.

"Please, puppy," he says. "Don't wanna go eight months without this ever again. Missed it."

It takes everything in you to drum up a response, still working through the second almost-orgasm of the evening.

"Never," you manage to mumble as your head turns, seeking Adams lips. He kisses you slowly, meaningfully, and you have a moment--just a moment--where you hate yourself for letting sex get away from you for such a long time.

Work has been eight months of never ending stress, eight months of managing one hundred and sixty people, dealing with a boss who claims to care about the team but only offers a raise to the five people from whom a guy stole off time rather than firing the idiot. You feel bad--work has taken the majority of your head space since March, and that doesn't feel fair in the fucking slightest.

"Adam," you whisper. He presses a peck to your lower lip and darts his tongue out to wet his own.

"Yeah, puppy?"

"Missed you," you respond. "'M sorry about work. I promise I didn't mean to get so busy, it's just--Earle and his fucking scheme, and Monica refusing to fire his sorry ass while he has the time of his goddamned life in Monaco, and--ugh. I don't mean to ruin the mood but it's just not leaving my head."

Adam laughs, presses a kiss to your forehead. "I know how you get, Y/N," he says. "I'm too drunk on the thought of your thighs around my head to even get slightly turned off right now but that's not the point."

He laughs again, thumb gliding across your bottom lip. "I've been worried about you but I knew work was probably the reason for your late nights, baby. I promise, it just made me cherish our lazy mornings even more. If you don't like working there, you can always quit, too--you've got your rainy day savings, and my job lets me cover the rent and have money left for groceries if you don't get something right away. Has anything else been bugging you or is it just work?"

"Just been in a funk," you respond. "The sex is helping a lot, but I've always found that being with you helps me like nothing else can. Needed this, Adam. Even if you've kept me from orgasming twice so far."

"Fifteen more minutes til sundown," Adam says. "You'll be so sick of coming when I finally start letting you, baby. I think I have it in me to last eight hours, but that's because I'll be giving myself a reprieve. You, however, might not get one. Dunno--it depends on if you'll want one, really."

"You'll know I do if I use the safe word," you respond. "Just--be soft with me, mm? I don't think I can handle being degraded too much, if at all. I'm scared that if you call me a slut with a mean tone I'll just fall to pieces and start crying."

Adam laughs, presses a kiss to your temple. "Think I've done enough edging," he says. "Kind of just wanna kiss you until you're begging me for more, baby. Sound okay?"

You nod, arms wrapping around his shoulders. "You really wouldn't be mad if I quit my job?"

"I would be the opposite of angry at you if you just announced it and didn't even give your two weeks," Adam says. "You've spent the majority of the last year giving them an arm and both of your legs in the effort it's taken to keep things afloat. You're up for a significant raise which I would wait to see if you got, but there are places that pay the amount you'd be getting after your raise as the starting salary, which only goes up after the first six months. I'd start applying to those places if I were in your shoes and I didn't get the raise I fuckin' deserved."

Adams lips drop to your collarbone. "'M so in love with you," he says. "And I'm sorry that work has been such a shitstorm lately. If you want, you can switch from a marketing job to working for a salary that covers rent and groceries with me at the bookshop? They're hiring all the fucking time and it means I can basically just...spend the entirety of my break just kissing you relentlessly if you do decide to join up."

You laugh, pulling a hand through his hair. "Maybe," you say. "If I don't get the raise."

Adam laughs, gently biting against your collarbone as his hands find your hips again.

"Love your hips, puppy," he says. "Will probably have to put lotion on the hickeys I left on 'em. Got a little carried away."

"I'll get my revenge somehow," you respond. "If you ever find yourself in a submissive mood, I will absolutely cover your neck in them."

"I like hickeys in obvious places, so long as you keep them light,"

"Oh, they will be. Everywhere but your pulse point--I happen to like your pulse point, Adam. Might get carried away worse than you did with my hips."

Adam bites your collarbone again, kissing up the center of it to the underside of your jaw before his lips are once again against yours.

"I love you so fucking much," Adam says into the kiss, giving your hips a hard squeeze. "Fuck, Y/N. Gonna make sure all of your stress is gone from your mind completely. Just want you to be thinking about me, puppy."

All you can do in response is moan into Adams mouth, closing your eyes and moaning once more as he uses your moaning to slip his tongue into your mouth, one hand coming up to cup your face.

You spend the next little eternity kissing, moaning whenever Adams hands squeeze whichever part of your body they've ended up near or on--typically your ass, just below it on your thigh, your hips, or your tits--and occasionally tugging at the hairs near the nape of his neck, where one of your hands rests.

And then, Adam pulls away. You gaze at him as he holds himself up by his elbows, a handsome smirk on his face.

"You're all right?" He asks.

The truth is, all you can think about is the memory of his cock inside you and you're convinced it's slowly driving you nuts, but by all other accounts, yeah.

You nod. "I'm amazing, Adam," you say. "Need to feel you."

As you speak the words, Adam is already reaching for his night stand on his side of the bed, grabbing a condom.

You roll it onto his length, one of your hands overlapping the hand he places on your hip as you lie back down.

Adam positions himself at your entrance, pushing into you slowly even despite how wet you are--you're more than ready to feel him, but Adam still goes slow to be cautious.

When he bottoms out, both of you moan. Your lips are almost right next to Adams ear, his forehead pressing against your shoulder, so the sound of you moaning just makes Adam want you more. One of his hands is on your breast, and he squeezes it, rolling the nipple between his first finger and thumb as you clench around his length.

After a minute, you're telling Adam he can start moving and his thrusts come to a slow start as Adam figures out the pace he wants to start with.

His lips have dipped close to your ear when he whispers, "you're so wet for me," and he kisses the side of your head before adding "such a good puppy. Fuck--you're amazing."

And you're moaning in response, starting to get cockdrunk as Adam moves in calculated thrusts, one hand propping himself up by the elbow and the other against your hip.

Your thighs wrap around his waist to keep him in place, and Adam laughs as he lifts the hand on your hip to cup your face.

"You like this, baby?" He asks. You moan, nodding slightly as your eyes close, giving his shoulder a squeeze.

"Such a good puppy for me," he says. "So good, baby. You're doing so good."

And then you moan again, and Adam presses a kiss to the corner of your lips. He quickens the pace of his thrusts, lips moving to your neck as the hand that was on your face moves to your clit, rubbing circles around it and delighting in the moans it brings from your throat.

Your release spurs his on, and while you moan and release around him Adam releases into the condom, thrusting his way through the aftershocks and the way that your legs start shaking with them.

He pulls out and discards the condom, heading back to you quickly and peppering your face with kisses.

You find yourself in a state of complete and total relaxation and euphoria. Adams hands on you make you sink further in, and Adam laughs a little--you're looking at him like he's the love of your life while you're practically drowning in post-orgasm bliss, which is a delightful and meaningful addition to the times in which you've looked at him like that, particularly whenever he's decided to surprise you with breakfast or when you wake up to find him admiring you as he'd woken up before you had.

"You're feeling all right?" The orgasm had been a little intense.

You nod, and Adam presses his nose against the apple of your cheek, pressing a quick kiss there as his hands find your face.

"Going quiet?" He presses his lips to your forehead. "Not for long, baby. I have at least seven more hours with you, yeah?"

You nod, and Adams lips are on yours again.

A lot of the time, you start to realize, will be passed with Adams lips against yours, his hands going somewhere on your body as you moan and whine at his touches.

You don't hate the idea, though--Adam is a damn good kisser and absolutely knows what he's doing with his lips and tongue. You've proven yourself capable of lazily making out with Adam for hours several times, though that was when the two of you were kiss fiends in the honeymoon phase and couldn't go more than twenty minutes without it.

But then, Adams lips trail from your lips to your chest, paying attention to it as his hands move from your face to your hips. Once he's paid satisfactory attention to your chest, he moves to your stomach, where, per the presence of your hips close by, he stays for a long ten minutes.

Then his lips are on your inner thighs and your hand is in his hair and all you can do is moan, one word waiting and ready at the tip of your tongue but not falling off of it.

You watch through half lidded eyes as Adams eyes lock on your cunt, nod fervently when his gaze meets yours and his head tilts in the asking.

His tongue finds your clit and he moves one finger, slowly, into your hole as his lips follow his tongue. You turn your head and moan into the pillow in an effort to silence yourself, but the noise level at which the moan sits is still so obscene that Adam chuckles, shaking his head as his left arm slips under your thigh and his hand finds purchase at your chest.

Adams tongue moves around your clit in evenly paced circles, finger moving at a calculated pace as he adds another. Adams fingers curl around your g-spot once every fifteen-ish seconds, and every time your moans get louder because of the action, Adam laughs a little and presses his tongue flat against your clit.

Adam has you pushed to your orgasm in fifteen minutes. You barely have time to warn him before you're coming over his mouth, chin, and his hand, but Adam hardly cares. He only licks his fingers to clean them and juts his tongue out to run it over his lips, all while holding your gaze.

And then he's kissing you and you're tasting yourself, humming into the kiss as Adam reaches one arm out and fumbles for the nightstand in search of another condom.

Adam gets it and rips it open, sliding it onto his length and motioning for you to get on your knees and turn around. You do as he says and Adam slowly slides into you, the both of you moaning slightly as he bottoms out.

Adam waits a minute for you to adjust to him, and once you have he starts thrusting. He sets an even, quick pace and moves a hand to your clit, moaning as you lean back and press your back against his front.

Adams lips find a spot in the space between your neck and shoulder, and every last one of the sounds you make spurs him on. His moans are low, typically comorbid with yours, and they come in between the praise he manages to mumble out as he moves and you start moving back onto him.

"So good," he mutters, biting gently against your shoulder. "Fuck--"

You moan in response, unable to form any coherent thought other than Adams name.

"Adam," you whisper as the pace at which Adams finger touches your clit increases. "Adam--"

You feel him smile against your skin, a cocky grin taking up his face.

"Yes, baby?" He asks, moaning as you clench around him. "Gonna use your words for me, mm?"

"Adam," it's the only word that comes to mind right now, though it'll be one of ten, at best, once he's pushed you to orgasm again.

"Adam, oh--" You moan as he snaps his hips up into you.

Adam keeps the pace he's set and it's not long before you're moaning loudly as Adams lips and tongue suck a hickey into the space where your neck meets your shoulder, your release occurring just seconds before his own, before he's a moaning mess as he thrusts into you through the aftershocks.

Adam pulls out and lays you back onto the bed before rolling the condom off and tossing it into the trash.

The cycle continues that way until you find yourselves nearing one in the morning. Your lips are wet with your own saliva after you've pulled off of Adams length and he's being sweet, your face in his hands as you start moving to sit on the bed.

"One more for me, baby," he says. In eight hours, you've come more than eight times, your legs are basically jelly, and all you have on your mind is Adam. "Just one more, mm? Then I'll run us a bath and we can just relax, I promise. Aftercare god, remember?" He laughs a little at the tail end of his sentence, cringing at himself a little bit.

And you're nodding, smiling at Adam as his lips find your inner thighs and you're blissed out on post-orgasm euphoria--Adam had let you touch yourself while sucking his dick, and you'd come over your hand as he shot his load into your mouth, which you'd agreed to let him do--and it's fifteen minutes til one and Adams lips against your thighs is absolutely amazing.

And then his lips and tongue go to your cunt, and you're moaning as your thighs wrap around his head, which leads to him laughing and squeezing your hips.

And Adam eats you out carefully, slowly, moaning as he does so. He's taking his time with you because you're blissed out and will definitively need to be easy on yourself in terms of walking after all that's been done. He's moaning, tongue moving through your folds in a way that feels incredible to both you and him, and his lips find your clit as he moves to start fingering you.

Adam sets a good pace, quick but not too quick, and curls his fingers at your g-spot with every thrust. You're moaning loudly despite the time and Adam is loving it, and then you're coming on his lips and his tongue and Adam is licking it off your cunt and his lips with a focused precision.

Then Adam is getting up, pressing a kiss to your forehead and telling you he'll be back in a few minutes. He tells you he loves you but doesn't expect a response--you're absolutely too blissed out to say much of anything, and he loves it because it's the first time in eight months where you've looked so relaxed, the first time in eight months where you've felt it.

Your eyes close as Adam leaves your shared bedroom, and you hear him starting up a bath. You smile to yourself, pressing your cheek against the pillow, having a brief, floaty thought of I am so lucky before Adam comes into the room again, smile on his clean face.

He kisses your eyelids, hands finding and interlacing themselves with yours.

"C'mon," he says. "I've run us a bath, baby. Gonna relax your legs, which are definitely sore by this point."

And then your eyes are opening and he's helping you stand as he tells you how much he loves you and how amazing you were during the session, and his lips are against your forehead in a kiss.

You're mostly quiet as Adam leads you to the bathroom, humming as you get into the tub with him.

You press your chin against Adams shoulder and in the next few minutes, you're still tired but the water is still hot and you're starting to form coherent thoughts again.

"Thank you," you whisper, pressing a kiss to Adams wet shoulder. He hums, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"For what?" Adam asks.

"For the last nine hours," you say. "For making me forget about work stress and for the sex."

Adam laughs, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "The sex was enjoyable for both parties, then," he says. "And--you're welcome, but you don't need to thank me. Just wanted to help you de-stress a little, and I'm glad I could do that."

You're in the bath together for thirty-ish minutes after that, and you let Adam wash your hair as he peppers your hickied neck with kisses and his hands run along your biceps. You wash his, and you spend the time waiting for the conditioner to set talking about your plans for the day as the day has turned.

Adam intends to let you sleep in and to make breakfast, and you intend to at least move from the bedroom to the living room after you've woken up so that you can read from the comfort of your couch.

You get out of the bath and, because your legs are still pretty sore, have barely any choice but to let Adam help you back to your room and sit on the bed as Adam gets dressed and grabs you clothes.

You get dressed into a pair of black boxers--they, Adam decides, will be comfier than sweatpants--and a hoodie Adam had during his baggy clothes phase that's baggy on you, too, and covers two thirds of your thigh before your knee amidst laughter and kisses that you share in the relative dark.

You and Adam end up going to sleep on the couch anyway so as to avoid halfhearted fighting about who sleeps on the wet spot on the bed from the sweat emitted during sex, curled up in each others arms with a thick, warm and fuzzy blanket covering you both up to your shoulders.

#adam stanheight #adam faulkner-stanheight #adam stanheight x reader #adam faulkner-stanheight x reader #saw 2004

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httplilyyy · 2 years

Text

𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐋 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 || 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐇 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐒𝐎𝐍

pairing: leah williamson x reader, engwnt x reader

summary: you and leah have been friends with benefits for quite some time but what happens when you both win the euros and spend an eventful night with each other?

warnings: smut, swearing, suggestive themes, fingering (r giving), oral (r giving) | minors dni

word count: 5.9k

a/n: this has been in my drafts for a long time and i completely forgot to post it so sorry about that. this is also my first time writing anything to do with woso so bear with me as I learn the ropes of it all.

woso masterlist

You and Leah had a complicated relationship. The two of you both playing for Arsenal and being a part of the England team meant the two of you spent a lot of time together. In more ways than one.

You had met Leah when you first joined Arsenal. Being transferred from Man City meant you had to move across the country. You felt a little out of place at first but once you stepped foot onto the pitch and felt a ball at your feet you became unstoppable.

Your position as a striker meant that many of your drills were against Leah. The two of you soon grew your friendship over the simplest of things till one day it became something more.

It wasn’t planned and it was very out of the blue but after one of the girls invited everyone out after the season ended, everything changed.

After many drinks and karaoke songs later you found yourself waking up the next morning in a random hotel room with Leah fast asleep beside you. You would've thought everything was platonic till you noticed the lack of clothes.

Remembering the night before, dancing, singing and a whole lot of alcohol. Trying to pick bits and pieces apart to figure out how you got in this situation.

Drunken kisses, impatient touches, fogged minds. The two of you didn't care about the aftermath, only the present. The feeling of your skin on one other, bringing you both to an ultimate high.

Watching the realisation cross Leah's mind as she remembered all what happened the night before left you dreading what was to come. Having a sinking feeling that Leah would want nothing to do with you, it came as a shock that she wanted a different arrangement.

Friends with benefits. The three words circling your mind. Heart racing at the thought.

Dumbly agreeing, you had no idea what was to come for the up and coming years.

“You ready?” You asked as you sat beside Leah on the coach.

“As I can be.” She smiled, turning her focus away from her phone and solely onto you.

The two of you were sitting on the coach with the rest of the England team as you waited to be driven to Wembley for the Euros final.

“I never really imagined I'd be here.” You confessed.

“Why's that?”

“It all feels a bit surreal to be honest.” You shrugged. “I feel like someone else should be in my place.”

“You deserve to be here, you were chosen for a reason.” Leah said comfortingly.

“Enough with the soppy shit.” You chuckled.

“Alright, alright.” Leah chuckled as she held up her hands in defence leaning away a little.

“Ask me something random, this is going to be a long journey and I’m already bored.”

“Ouch, you wound me y/l/n.”

“You’re not boring me, just the journey.”

“Mhm, okay.”

“Promise.” You said as you gave Leah a silly smile.

“You want a question?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Okay, what would you say is your favourite food?”

“You know this!”

“You told me to ask you a question.”

“I thought it’d be more exciting than that.”

“Alright, favourite sex position?”

“Ooh, kinky.”

“Oh my god.” Leah groaned.

“You know that one too.” You said giving Leah a wink.

“I give up.”

“Let me ask you questions.”

“No.”

“Please.” You said dragging out the ‘e’ at the end.

“Fine.”

“Have you ever had a sex dream about me?”

“Are all the questions going to be sexual?”

You paused for a moment. “Yes.”

“Perhaps.”

“That’s a yes? Right?”

“Yes, I’ve had one.”

“Wow, I thought you’d be more reluctant than that.”

“We’ve had sex, I don’t think it really matters.”

“Fair point.”

“Next question.”

“Ever thought of being called captain in the bedroom?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Just for the pitch?” You laughed.

“That’s just wrong.” Leah laughed along.

“Any plans for after the game?”

“I've got a surprise for you.”

Seeing Leah give you a flirtatious wink and a cheeky grin, you knew what she had in mind. Immediately wanting to be in that hotel room already.

“I like the sound of that.”

“Of course you do.” Leah chuckled, causing you to break out into a smile.

“What does the surprise entail?”

“That's for me to know and you to find out.”

“You love messing with me, don't you?”

Leah didn't say anything, just shrugging her shoulders, biting back a laugh threatening to escape from her lips.

“Maybe.”

“Alright, you just wait till later.”

“Can’t wait.”

As you made your way to Wembley you and Leah conversed about all different types of game plays and anything that could make you european champions even if it did mean that you’d get sent off. You were willing to do anything and everything for your team.

“I mean, if it comes to it I’m willing to get a red.” You said.

“No way, we need you up front.”

“You don't, there's Russo, Beth, Ellen and Miss England herself.”

“You're not getting yourself sent off.” Leah said in an authoritative tone.

“Fine. No promises though.”

“Don't be difficult. I’ll just get Sarina to bench you.”

“Hey! You can't do that.” You whisper-shouted.

“I’m captain, remember?”

“Still-”

“No, y/n.”

“You're no fun.”

“You're a little shit.” Leah joked.

“I’m taller and older than you.”

“Only by a couple months.”

“Mhm, you have to respect the elders.”

“Just don't get yourself sent off.”

“I won't. I want to be on the pitch for the final whistle.”

“And help me lift the trophy?”

“One hundred percent.”

Stepping out of the coach, walking past mass amounts of paparazzi, you made your way into the locker room. Seeing your name and number on the back of an England jersey will never get old and you feel a sense of pride every time you look at it.

Looking to your left you see Leah looking at hers, the captain's armband standing proudly on top of it. Sensing someone was looking at her, Leah looked around the room till her eyes landed on yours.

Nothing needed to be said so the two of you smiled at each other. Walking over to the blonde you placed your hand to the small of her back and leaned your chin on her shoulder.

“You should be proud of yourself.” You said, smiling softly as Leah leaned back into you.

“I’m scared.” Leah admitted quietly.

“There's nothing to be scared of. No matter the outcome, you led us here, we are here because of you and we’re going to win because of you.”

“But what if we don’t.”

“Then we’ll figure it out, but if you want my honest opinion, I don't think Germany stands a chance with you as our captain.”

“I hope you're right.”

“When am I not?”

You and the rest of the girls were soon called out for the warm ups and that's when it started to become more real, the pressure, the game and what was at stake.

Fans started to fill the stadium, the seats flooded with white and red, each and every one of them giving you that extra confidence boost fueling you up for the game.

Heading back to the locker room you and the rest of the girls put on your kits with pride and waited for the match to begin. Slipping on your boots, you made sure your shin-pads were in the right place, your socks at the right height, your shorts tightened and your top proudly showing off your number on the back.

Shaking off the nerves, you follow the rest of your teammates out to the tunnel. Rolling your shoulders back you put your game face on before you walked onto the pitch. Standing side by side with your teammates singing the national anthem proudly, all you needed to do now was win.

Easier said than done.

When the ref blew her whistle you kicked off the game. Straight away you could tell that both teams were on the offensive. Ellen had an early chance but it unfortunately went over the bar.

Each team going back and forth, you put your maximum effort in to help out in any way possible. After your shot was blocked by the German keeper she threw the ball to Hendrich. Wanting the ball back you sprinted after the defender in hopes of regaining possession.

You knew it was risky, you being a little rough a slide tackle would most likely end with a yellow or even a red but you did it anyway. Your foot tapped the ball out of the Germans way and off the pitch.

The woman tumbling over the top of you, led to a foot to the head and a very angry defender pushing you before you could have a chance of getting up.

Sitting on the floor you looked up at Hendrich who was going off at you. She was yelling in German so you couldn't understand a word she was saying. Standing up, you wobbled slightly before you squared up to the defender.

The two of you went back and forth, pushing and shoving each other before your teammates arrived to split the two of you apart. Lucy managed to pull you away and calm you down before you did something you’d regret.

Lucy led you towards Leah who gave you a disapproving look before she took you to the side lines and to a medic. You soon found out why when you looked at the monitor in the stands showing the tackle.

As your head was knocked by Hendrich’s boot her studs caught the side of your face causing a cut to form. They cleaned up your face before applying some cream then sending you back onto the pitch.

You managed to not receive a card, god knows how, but you didn’t question it. You gave one last look at Leah before moving back into position. The game continued on and half time hit not long after.

It was still 0-0 at half time and your determination only grew stronger. The medics gave you a check over to make sure you were all okay and you sat down to listen to Sarina give her talk and impression of the first half.

You hadn’t spoken to Leah since your little accident and it looked like she didn't want to talk or even look at you. You had a little over four minutes left before the second half started so you went and sat beside her.

“What's up?” You asked. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I haven’t, just concentrating on the game.” Leah said, brushing you off.

“You seem pissed.”

“I’m not.”

“Alright then, I’ll see you on the pitch.” You muttered as you stood up but before you could walk away, Leah grabbed ahold of your wrist and stood up herself.

She ran her finger gently over the cut on the side of your face before looking you in the eyes.

“You can be so stupid sometimes.”

“It's all a part of my charm.”

“Please be more careful next time, my heart can't take it.”

“You falling for me Williamson?” You joke.

“In your dreams, y/l/n.”

“I’ll be more careful or at least try to.”

“Remember what's at stake.”

“That feels like it has a double meaning.” You said. “Does it have a double meaning?”

“You tell me.” Leah smirked before she walked out of the locker rooms with a couple of girls, ready to start the second half.

Once the second half started you began to notice a theme. Whenever you got a hold of the ball or even if you didn’t have the ball you were being targeted.

Maybe it was payback for the slide tackle but this was starting to piss you off. You let it go, after seeing the look on Leah’s face and what she had told you in the locker room you didn’t want to upset her.

There was a bigger game to be playing.

At the 62nd minute Keira sent a lovely through ball to Tooney and she scored an absolute worldy. The whole stadium was practically shaking. Running straight to Ella you jump on her back screaming in her ear before the rest of the girls bundled ontop of each other.

Just a minute later Beth was subbed off for an injury and Chloe came onto the pitch. It was going well until the 79th minute when Germany equalised. This however, made you more determined to get the win and finally be able to say ‘it's coming home’.

There were no more goals leading the match to extra time at 1-1. As extra time continued the abuse from the German players didn't falter and you were slowly getting to your breaking point. With one nasty tackle from Huth you finally lost it. Milking it a little you rolled on the floor earning England a free kick.

The free kick led to nothing unfortunately but you aren't backing down now, each tackle you made was harder than the last, each pass was more precise, each shot coming closer to goal.

Germany receives a throw-in and Rauch passes it to Oberdorf who then passes it to Waßmuth. Big mistake. The German forward was closest to you so took it upon yourself to get the ball back.

Coming from her side, you hit the German with a hard slide tackle that immediately sent her rolling on the floor. You knew you were in the wrong, it was very unsportsmanlike but you had enough of being targeted.

The ref ran over to you two, Waßmuth still on the floor, smacking the grass repeatedly. Quickly checking on the German, the ref waved the medics over. Taking a step away from the woman, the ref made her way towards you.

“I let you get away with the first one but this cannot happen again. Got it?”

“I got the ball.” You said back. “It was clean, she’s just taking the piss.”

“I’m not going to argue with you, from my angle it didn't.”

“Alright but this is bullshit, I've been targeted this whole time and you’ve done nothing.”

“Stop with the swearing, and what do you want me to do? It's football, you're going to be targeted every once in a while.”

“So when I tackle a player it's classed as a foul but when they clearly foul me it's not? How does that work?”

“Look, just get on with the game, you're on your final warning.” The ref stepped back a little and reached into her pocket to pull out a yellow card. You couldn't really argue any more, the tackle was a clear yellow.

It was soon enough the end of the first half of extra time. You all took a quick breather, Sarina having a word with you telling you to calm down and not let them get into your head.

The game started up again and it was like the gods had answered all your prayers in the 110th minute we got a corner. Hemp sent in the cross, the ball bounced off Lucy and Chloe managed to tap it in.

You couldn't believe it, watching Chloe run around the pitch waving her top in hand before being huddled by all the girls. A thought crossed your mind. England might actually win the Euros.

From then on your main goal was to keep the ball out of your half. You passed the ball back and forth with Lucy when a player came from behind and took you off your feet. You hit the deck and grabbed onto your ankle for dear life. The ref immediately blew her whistle and ushered the medics onto the pitch. A couple of teammates were surrounding you as you rocked back and forth.

Everyone asks questions about how you were feeling only for you to not pay attention to them, your soul focus is on the clock, 2 minutes left. You knew you were completely fine, but what's wrong with a little time-wasting masterclass?

Jumping back up, you assured everyone that you were completely fine and fit to continue. After a bit more shit housery, the final whistle blew and you fell to the floor. England had done it. You had just won the Euros.

You soon felt someone sitting beside you, patting your stomach gently. You took your hands off your face to see Leah looking at you with tears in her eyes but with one of the biggest smiles you have ever seen.

“We did it.” She smiled as she pulled you up to hug you.

“That we did, captain.” You grinned.

Keeping her as close as possible you soon felt your shoulder get wet. Smiling softly you pull Leah back to look at her properly.

You used the pads of your thumbs to wipe away the tears that had fallen down her face before you held her face in your hands.

“I think you owe me a surprise.” You said.

“Just you wait.”

“Lets go lift that trophy.”

A party was in full swing and all the girls were

singing their lungs off. Bealting ‘three lions’ over and over again. Dancing on top of tables, spraying drinks everywhere and just overall having an amazing time, finally being able to bring back the trophy.

You were currently watching the girls from afar, trying not to get too involved knowing there will be a killer hangover the next morning. You’ve had a couple of drinks but deciding you have had enough, sticking to a water or a coke from now on.

Whilst you talked with Lucy and Keira you tried to keep your focus on what they were saying however it kept being drawn to a certain blonde defender, who consequently wasn't anywhere to be seen.

“She's up in her room.” Keria said, her voice just being heard over the loud music.

“What?” You questioned.

“Leah, she's in our room.”

“Is she okay?”

“Not sure. She hasn't really told me anything.” You knew Keira was lying, you could tell by the corner of her lip fighting back a smile.

“I’m going to check on her.” You said as you downed your drink and placed the glass to the side.

“Just to let you know, I'm rooming with Lucy.” You said into her ear and out of shot from the defender next to her.

“So?”

“Have fun.” You smirked, sending her a wink.

“I don't understand?”

“How about we swap rooms for tonight? I know you both want some time together.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, just promise not to have sex on my bed.”

“Y/n!”

“I’m joking, a little, not really. I’m going now. Bye!”

It didn't take long for you to get to Leah's room and before you knew it you were standing outside her door, trying to figure a way to knock.

“Leah?” You questioned as you knocked gently on the door. “You okay?”

The door opened a tad and you heard Leah's voice telling you to come in. Entering the room you close the door behind you before you walk further into the room and to where Leah was.

“You alright?” You asked once you turned a corner and you were met by the most beautiful sight known to mankind.

Leah was laying down on her bed in nothing but her red underwear. A smirk plastered on her face, the setting sun hitting her skin perfectly giving her a glow that made you want her even more.

“Surprise.” Leah said, her smirk cracking into a full blown smile.

"Wha- um- For me?” You asked dumbly.

“Yeah.”

“God.” You whispered under your breath as you made your way to the edge of the bed where you waited as Leah got up and crawled her way towards you, kneeling on the bed in front of you.

“I’m going to make you come as many times as I can.” Leah said in a sultry tone.

“No.”

“No?”

“I am going to make you come as many times as I can. Captain.”

“You’re so annoying.” Leah chuckled.

“You love it.” You smiled as you pulled Leah closer to you by her waist.

“Just don't call me that again.”

“I won't.” You laughed caressing your hands up and down Leah's sides. You brought her into a kiss at first it was slow and passionate but it soon turned heated and messy.

Tongues battling against each other, teeth clashing. But you both didn't care, only wanting to feel more of each other. As the kiss continued, you pushed Leah back gently and she made her way backwards on the bed so her head hit the pillows and you were towering over her. Wrapping her legs around your middle and her arms around your shoulders she brought you closer.

"Y/n." Leah whispered between kisses, sounding breathless.

You leaned forward to kiss her neck and she groaned slightly, her grip on your shoulders tightening. You smirked when you felt her shiver under your touch when you nipped at her pulse point.

You pressed your lips to the side of her neck, one arm holding you up while the other ran up and down Leah's sides, along her ribs and to the tops of her thighs. She grins, a soft hum falling from her lips at the touch.

The defender craned her neck so you could continue to kiss Leah's warm, smooth skin, making her sigh in content. Your fingers made their way over her abdomen, lower than she expected, and her breath hitches.

Chuckling softly, you rest your lips on her jaw to whisper to her, "You need something?"

Leah pauses, you can practically hear her thinking out loud. She could beg, and have you take her right now, or she could play along and let you take your time for something a little lengthier. Her fingers squeeze around your shoulders before she moves one hand taking ahold of yours and tugs it south.

"Lower. I need you lower."

"Oh?" You smirked. "Drop your hands, baby. I'll do all the work."

She nods, a soft, quiet whimper escaping as she lets her arms rest by her side. "Okay."

"Good girl," You mumbled, gentle and just about audible. It makes her buck her hips, hands grabbing onto the sheets to keep herself calm. Moving onto your knees you look down at the women in front of you.

Your hands move, teasing at the waistline of her panties and moving to graze at the lining around the top of her thighs. She moans, a shove of her hips into your hand, and you grip her a little harder with the free hand on her waist.

"Please stop teasing me."

"I'm gonna take care of you, I promise." You whispered, fingers brushing over her panties, giving you only a mere taste of how wet she is.

"Please."

You slip one hand into her panties and she shifts, spreading her legs a little wider and creating a gap for you to touch her more accurately. You fingers brush her clit and she releases a filthy groan, accompanied with a whimper of your name.

You breathe deep, breath hitching once you feel how wet she is when you move your fingers lower.

"Y/n, please."

"Alright, sweetheart, I got you." You whisper, pressing your lips to the lobe of her ear. "I've got you."

You continued your ministrations on her clit for a few more moments before you pulled your hand out of her panties and rested it beside her head, propping you up.

Before Leah could speak you kissed her again, running your hand up and over Leah’s rib cage towards her breasts, cupping them with a gentle squeeze. Leah was unable to stop the groan that slipped past her lips.

You broke the kiss and attached your lips to her jaw. Leah’s breathing was laboured, soft whimpers tumbling from her lips as your lips travelled down to her neck.

You rolled her nipples between your thumb and forefinger through the fabric of her bra as you sucked on Leah’s pulse point. Even though Leah was loving every second of what you were doing she still needed more, she bucked her hips up trying to gain some sort of friction but the attempt was stopped when you removed your hand from her breast and placed it on her waist.

"So needy." You chuckled in her ear. "So impatient."

"Y/n, please. I need you."

You didn't say anything but you used one of your hands to spread Leah’s legs apart but you didn't touch her. Instead you brought your leg up so your thigh came in contact with Leah’s core. Letting out a loud moan, Leah threw her head back at the sudden contact that she was finally receiving.

"Show me how much you need me." You said as you continued your assault on Leah’s neck.

She wasted no time and began to rock her body against your leg relieving the pressure that had started to build. But it wasn't enough and the pressure started to disappear when you moved your leg away from her centre.

"Please. I need you so bad. Please."

"You look so sexy when you beg." You said as your lips trailed further down Leah’s body. They softly grazed her hardened nipple underneath the fabric of her bra and she shuddered at the attention that they were getting.

Arching her back slightly, one of your hands snaked around to her back and unclasped her bra. Throwing the article of clothing somewhere in the room, you took one of her nipples into your mouth whilst your hand went to the other. Alternating between the two as you left hickeys across her chest.

You propped yourself up on your elbow, whilst your other hand travelled to the top of Leah’s inner thigh. Watching Leah intently as your hand finally reached its destination. How her chest was littered with dark hickeys, how her breathing was ragged, how her eyes were clenched shut. Leah let out a gasp when your hand finally came up and cupped her centre.

"God, you're soaked." You whispered as you easily slid two fingers inside of her. A ripple of pleasure soared through Leah’s body, making her tilt her head back into the pillow. The moan that she released was long and loud and she couldn't have stopped it even if she tried.

You curled your fingers and they hit a spot causing Leah to let out an almost pornographic moan. You pulled them out and repeated the action again, continuously getting the same reaction.

"Fuck that feels so good." Leha said to the best of her ability.

She threw her head back harder when she felt your fingers push harder into her and your palm dressed against her clit. With every curl of your fingers Leah thrusted her hips forward to meet you, wanting nothing more than for you to give it to her as hard and as fast as you possibly could.

Leah felt incredible and the added sensation of your palm pressing against her clit was heavenly, causing her stomach muscles to contract and her legs begin to shake. Leah’s breaths began to become more uneven and shaky with each passing second. Her muscles tightening around your fingers as you push them into her over and over again.

Moans and curse words were falling from Leah’s lips as she was begging you not to stop. One hand gripped your shoulder and her fingernails dug harshly into your back through your t-shirt whilst the other gripped the bed sheet beside her.

Leah was so close to her climax and once she was about to come tumbling down you removed your hand completely making Leah open her eyes and let out a whimper.

"Wh- why did you stop? I was so close." She panted.

"I didn't say you could cum yet." You said as you got up and off of the bed to your clothes before going back on top of Leah.

Slowly pulling off Leah’s panties you could finally see just how wet she was, clenching around nothing.

“You’re so beautiful.” You smirked as you felt Leah shudder and squirm underneath you.

Slowly, you re-entered a finger at an antagonising pace. You took in her appearance, noticing her eyes were dilated, her cheeks coated pink and her lips were swollen. You distributed kisses along her neck and collarbone before you picked up the pace of your finger inside her.

Pulling your face up, Leah kept her hands on your cheeks as you two kissed fervently. Biting on your lower lip, the blonde pulled away slightly, just so your noses were touching.

"Don’t stop."

You chuckled as Leah kissed you, trying to conceal her moan. You added a second finger into her and she bucked her hips up into your hand. Leah’s breathing quickly picked up in pace as the stimulation became greater.

Moving your lips down and away from Leah’s mouth, you trailed kisses along her jaw to her neck, between the valley of her breasts and along her stomach. Stopping just before you reach her clit.

Placing one kiss on the sensitive nub you feel Leah's body immediately react with pleasure. You let out a little chuckle whilst shaking your head before diving in, licking a long stripe up her pussy.

Your tongue flicked her clit making her squeeze your head between her legs from the sudden rush of pleasure.

"Oh fuck." Leah muttered as one of her hands gripped onto your hair and the other gripped the sheets under her. Her eyes fluttered shut as she succumbed to the pleasure she was feeling.

You angled your head up towards her and went further under her to lick more of her lower lips. You moved her legs so they were over your shoulders, allowing yourself more access. You held her firmly in place, inserting your tongue into her, licking every inch of her walls that you could.

It got to the point where Leah couldn't hold back anymore, and told you she was about to climax.

“Y/n- fuck- I’m gonna come.” Leah moaned.

“Hold it.” You said as you continued your onslaught.

“I can’t. Please. God! I’m gonna come.”

You moved your head away from Leah and replaced your mouth with your fingers once again. You easily slid back into her and continued to pleasure her in the best way possible. Leah's head was thrown back and her hair was stuck to her forehead. Sweat was dripping down her neck as she tried to chase after her high.

One hand went to grip the pillow and the other was tightened around your wrist as you fingered her.

“You look so beautiful like this.” You whispered.

You could feel her beginning to clamp around your fingers, her legs tightening either side of your hand and a noticeable tremble to her body.

It was obvious she was close and you wanted nothing more than to feel her cry out in a pure state of euphoria and come around your fingers.

“You can come, go on, I wanna see you come for me.”

Your encouragement seemed to be the only thing she needed to tip her over the edge as with a final curl of your fingers and a firm press of your thumb against her clit, she arched her back off the bed with her eyes screwed shut and her body shuddered as her orgasm washed over her.

You continued what you were doing, letting Leah ride out her high and waited for her breathing to regulate before you pulled your fingers out of her. Leah let out a small whine but let a smile take over her features. You brought your fingers to your mouth and sucked on them whilst keeping your eyes locked on hers.

Leah bit her lip at the sight and pulled your hand away from your mouth so she could pull you into a kiss. You both moaned as you could taste her present in the kiss.

Pulling away, your face was inches away from hers. Your hooded eyes both met, both of your mouths parted eliciting pants trying to regulate your heartbeats.

“That was amazing.” Leah smiled.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” You said and you couldn’t help the grin appearing on your face. “Ready for round two?”

It was a couple of hours later and Leah had fallen asleep since your little rendezvous but you couldn’t find yourself able to settle. Checking your phone it was around 5:34 in the morning.

Huffing to yourself, you carefully pull yourself out from Leah’s grip, placing a pillow as a makeshift you. You made sure that Leah was covered with the duvet before you walked out onto the balcony.

Your fingers grasped the cold railing, causing a shiver to be sent down your spine. Closing your eyes you took a deep breath in, trying to ignore the multiple thoughts running around your brain.

After a deep breath out, you re-opened your eyes and took in your surroundings.

“You alright?” Leah’s voice was heard from behind you.

Turning around slowly you saw the defender wrapped up in the duvet still, her hair sticking up in all different directions, eyes so close to closing from the serious lack of energy but to you she still looked like the most beautiful person to ever walk the planet.

“Yeah, everything is fine. Go back to bed, I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Somethings bothering you, y/n. I can tell.” Leah said as she took a step closer to you.

Sighing to yourself you turned around to look back at the scenery, feeling Leah stand beside you, placing a comforting hand on your back.

“How are you feeling?” You asked.

“Don't change the subject. Tell me whats up.”

“Nothing, it’s stupid.”

“Please, I’m your best friend, you can tell me anything.”

“That's the problem.”

“What?”

“I don't want you to be my best friend.”

“Y/n?” Leah asked, her voice cracking slightly. “What are you trying to say?”

You took a quick cleansing breath before you spoke again knowing this can go one of two ways.

“I want you to be more than that.”

“More?”

“I really like you, Leah. So much, but I can't keep doing what we’re doing.”

“You want to stop having sex with me?”

“No, well yes. But I don't want to be friends with benefits. It hurts too much.”

“Why?”

“Because I know I'm not actually yours.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“You know what I am trying to say.”

“No, no, I want to hear you say it.”

“I want you to be my girlfriend.” You said, picking the skin on your hands as a nervous habit.

Placing her hands on top of yours, Leah smiled to herself before replying. “I’d love to be your girlfriend.”

Snapping your head to the side, you hadn’t thought Leah would say that. “Really?”

“Yeah. i’ve liked you for a while now, i was just worried that because of our ‘friends with benefits’ situation you wouldn't want anything more than that.”

“God! We’re so stupid.”

“Hey! Not me, just you.”

“I’ll take the blame, I don't care. I just want to kiss you.” You said, turning to face the defender.

“No ones stopping you.”

“I really like you.” You whispered as you felt Leah's breath on your lips.

“I really like you too.” Leah smiled. “So much.”

#leah williamson imagine #leah williamson imagines #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #woso imagine #woso x reader #engwnt x reader

788 notes · View notes

luvly-writer · 1 year

Text

"But Oh..Cara mia"

Ch. 15 Repercussions are always messy

————————————

Dick Grayson x Latina! Reader

Warning: None

Author's note: I finally found some time and inspiration to write! YAY! You wouldn't believe how crazy the last few weeks have been. First, university has been absolutely insane causing my health to decrease a little, then, it's the birthday months in my family meaning that almost every weekend we had something, and finally, I got a new phone. I had my old phone ever since 2020 and it had been malfunctioning ever since January. Unfortunately, many of my notes were lost due to me forgetting to backup them, and within those notes, I had the sketch for this ENTIRE story. So cue all the time I spent crying cause I lost SO MANY of my notes, from my TBR to my fic drafts. But worry not! I am time to reread the story so that I can get inspiration and remember how it was going to be carried out. LOTS OF LOVE.

Taglist: @lorosette @nanas-teatime @prettyacademia00 @mxtokko @sarahkaliii @w31rdg1rl @eurydicegrimes @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @alecmores @dakotali @sadraven1992

Series Masterlist:

—————————————

You ran and ran and ran. Up the stairs, taking the elevator would give you way too much time to stress over the situation. You ran with Babs hand in yours, pulling her with you. You could hear her complaining because of her running in heels and that you were going too fast but those were being unheard of. You needed to get to your room before you'd burst. Finally, after it felt like forever you got to your room. You pulled Babs in and closed the door, locking it. You both inhaled and exhaled softly, a little out of breath. "Yn, I love you. You know I do, but fuck you for making me run all the way to here." Babara panted out successfully snapping you of the trance you were in. You had been staring holes at the door. She walked up towards you and pulls you back, "Hey hey, the door won't harm you, stop looking at it as if it will" she said softly and pulls you so that you are both sitting on your bed. You breathe softly and finally look at Barbara who is looking at you with so much intrigue. "Barbara.." you start slowly and Babs nods, eager to know what you'll say, "You will not believe what the fuck happened on that dance floor" you finish and Barbara squeals and laughs making you laugh as well.

--<3---

On the other side of the manor, Dick was desperately looking for Kory. He had run away from the ballroom straight to the gardens. "KORY!" He shouted as he searched for the girl around the gardens. Just as he was about to shout for her again, he finds her sitting in a bench in front of one of the Wayne manor ponds, staring at the fish in the water.

"Kor-"

"So," she says without looking at him, "finally done eye fucking Yn are you?" she finishes. Dick flinches slightly, not used to receiving such harshness from her. He slowly walks up to her, "I wasn-" he begins but is once interrupted by her, "Of course, you were, Richard!" She bites back standing up to look at him dead in the eye. Frankly, he is currently terrified of the girl in front of him. "Honestly, when are you going to stop lying to me! I am not stupid and I am quite sick of you believing I am." Kory crosses her arms and Dick finally answers, "It is a publicity stunt, Kory" and she huffs. "Oh yes, I am sure! That's what you always say but it's a fucking lie". Dick can feel his anger rising, "I am not lying Kory, you know that Bruce pulls this shit every time something goes wrong in a gala whenever Yn and I are there. The socialites-"

"The socialites can go fuck themselves, Richard! I may not be from Earth but I have been here long enough to know that for something to be a publicity stunt, it doesn't need the amount of intimacy you were both exhibiting! When will you come to terms with the fact that she loves you and that you-" screams Kory yet chokes up in the end, not wanting to finish her sentence. Finishing it would confirm the very same thing she has been trying to avoid, say delay, all this time. "That I might what Kory? Love her? You know that's a lie. I love you" Dick says and Kory rolls her eyes in frustration. "But you are noT IN LOVE WITH ME RICHARD!" She lets out. "You haven't been in a long time" and Dick just looks at her.

"Kory, what non-"

"But it isn't nonsense! It's true! She knows you better than anyone else, better than me! You both share this strange fucking sense of intimacy-"

"No we don't"

"Yes, you do Richard. I don't know anything about you any more than she does. For fuck's sake, I had to call you under the premise of training the Titans in order to actually hear from you. Something happens to you and you go running to her. Your face lights up whenever you see her and you search for her in every room! I tried to get in the way and make you see only me, Richard, I really did, but she shines so bright that you can't see anyone but her whenever she is present. What is the point of fighting it anymore?" Kory says defeatedly. Dick reaches out for her but she steps back, "Kore, don't...don't say that" he says as his eyes begin to tear up.

"Richard, but I have to. You haven't been mine for a long while now and I thought coming to Gotham with you might've changed that but it didn't. It just made it ten times clear who you belong with and surprise! It isn't me! I have tried everything! From sex to calls and excessive PDA, to trying to limit your contact with her and trying to make you leave, and even trying to make you cut ties with her, and wanna know something? NOTHING WORKED! It isn't healthy anymore! I am desperately trying to keep something that isn't mine and never will be! I am trying to save something that's already ruined!" Kory yells and both can feel the tears run down their cheeks. Dick walks up to her and holds eye contact, "I love you, Kory, you know this, you must, you have to..." he whispers and Kory smiles bitterly at him, "I know, Robin, and I love you but you don't love me in the way I want to be loved" she answers and Dick looks down in shame. "I am sorry," he tells the girl and she smiles at him, "I am sorry. I am so so sorry, Kory" he keeps on whispering and she pulls him for a hug. No matter what anyone else says, Richard Grayson has the biggest heart of all and even in the moments where she is breaking a big part of his heart, he still doesn't have it in him to hate her and shove harsh words her way. "I know, Dick, I know. Part of loving you is letting you go so that you can truly be happy," She pulls him back to look him in the eyes, "We are over, Richard. Our time has finally come to an end" she says softly and Dick nods.

"We had a good run, Richard, we really did." She says as both laugh, still teary-eyed.

"We are no longer two dumb teenagers in love" he says and she nods laughing, "Please, Kory, know that my intention was never to hurt you, you kno-" Dick starts but Kory cuts him off with a laugh.

"Oh I know, Dick, I know, I think one of the last people to know that you're in love is you," Dick goes to open up his mouth in denial but Kory shushes him with a glare, "Richard Grayson you better not try to deny it! Do yourself a favor and accept it" Kory says and Dick has the decency to look bashful.

"It's not that, Kory, it's just, I mean, me and her, I mean she and well, we aren't exactly on good terms or have ever been exactly on the best but no well yeah but-" he is cut off by Kory's laughter.

"My, is this real? Is the suave Richard Grayson finally made a mess by a girl? What a sight!" she says and Dick glares at her. "It's complicated!" he huffs rolling his eyes and she just laughs out, "Isn't it always?"

They both decide to sit down on the grass and stair at the water. They stay in silence for a while. It is broken by Kory who looks at him curiously, "Since when?" she asks and Dick looks at her confused.

"Since when have you known that you know, you love her?" she asks and he just shrugs.

"I don't know actually, one day the hate turned into something else and I was too much of a coward to acknowledge it." He says picking on the grass.

"So you ran back to familiar?" she says and he nods a little distracted, she hums in understanding. "You are an idiot, Dick" she says making the boy nod and laugh with her. "Don't get me wrong, that wasn't the entire reason, I do love you, Kory" he says and she nods once again. She needed to clear the air before finally leaving.

"You know, it kinda makes me feel a little better that you were a little conscious of your feelings for her but pushed them down because of how much you love me" she says and he gives her a tight smile.

"What now?" he asks, scared of what the answer might be.

"Well, I am going back to the Titans tower and probably taking a well-deserved nap. You should probably go find her" she answers and Dick laughs, "No, what about us now?" he asks once again and Kory looks at him, understanding his questing. "OH! Well, you can always come to help co-lead the Titans, they are a handful as they are, so help is always appreciated. As for us us? I think we can be friends" she offers and Dick smiles and nods, "Yeah, I'd like that" making Kory smile, "But not now, I need some time, plus, I think you have a certain someone that requires your full attention" she insists and Dick lays back and looks up, "Oh her....I am fucked" he says making Kory laugh. "Why?!" she says and Dick looks at her incredulously, "Have you met her?!?! This is the one person that has never allowed me to charm my way out and is the first to call me on my bullshit. I may be absolutely earth-shattering in love with her but she will rain a shitstorm on my ass!" he exclaims making Kory wheeze, "You said it! You love her!" she yells and Dick still looks desperate to get his point across. "Yeah, but she will kick my ass" which creates another round of laughter from Kory. "Why? She got you?" she asks, genuinely confused.

"Like I said, she will absolutely call me on my bullshit and scold me for hurting you. She's a girl's girl according to Barbara and Stephanie so putting you in between will definitely be on her list of reasons why Dick Grayson is an asshole and no one can convince me otherwise," he says mocking her voice and making Kory laugh again before he continues, "Plus, she will wholeheartedly fight me on how horrible I've been with her, aside from calling me a coward for denying it for so long, Kory I have more chances entering a cage fight with a tiger and a grizzly bear and winning than the hell she will put me through, which I deserve cause she deserves so much better than me, because of all these years. She will look at me and say 'i hAvE sTanDarS' which good for her, but not really good for me cause I will have to bust my ass to become the man she deserves" Dick finishes his rant and Kory stops laughing to look at him.

"You really are in love," she observes and Dick flushes, making Kory smile. "I think this will be good for you, Richard," she says as she stands up. He gapes at her and she shakes her head with a smile, "She has always pushed you to grow and be better. And now it seems she will do so once again" she tells him, making Dick stand up. She kisses his cheek and starts to leave, waving back at him. Dick waves back as he thinks over her last few words. Yn has always been the force to challenge him, make him push past his limits, and become better. Although the majority of the time, it had been through fights and constant clashing, she always helped him get better. As he starts to walk back to the manor, he feels a gush of wind in his side. He looks and lo and behold, Wally West is looking at him with a big smile. "Sooooo, I take it that went well" he grins at Dick throwing his arm around him.

As he explains what happened with Kory, Wally nods. "Wow, this is the first time I have ever EVER seen you handle things like an adult" he quips making Dick shove his arm off as he laughs.

"Hey!" Dick exclaims to which Wally answers, "You know its true!"

They both walk back to the ballroom., "So what now with Yn?" Wally asks carefully before they enter. Remembering how cozy the two were before the dance, Dick pulls Wally by the ear and slightly threatens, "Seeing as now I have to bust my ass to win her over, do NOT make it harder by flirting with her. Keep your hands and words away from Yn, I will break your legs" To which Wally snickers like a little shit. "Hey, it did the job of getting you to do something so fuck off," he says as he pulls his ear from Dick's grasp. The two enter the ballroom and laugh falling back into the boyish banter they were always used to. Dick can feel the questioning gazes of his family and decides to avoid them because in all seriousness, he had no clue how he can even begin explaining this.

--<3--

"SHUT UP!" screams Barbara as Yn finally finishes her story, nodding excitedly. Barbara's mouth is wide open as she processes what just happened, making Yn laugh. "I know! I don't even know how I am breathing! It was so intense and genuinely, a little hot too and it felt sooooooo right but soooo wrong at the same time you know!?" YN exclaims as Barbara nods, "Yeah cause Kory was there and oh my, they are definitely breaking up! Shit, Yn! This is messy!" she says and Yn nods with wide eyes. "I know! And honestly, I feel so conflicted! Because A) I don't like that a thrid party got hurt-"

"Even if she was a huge bitch to you?"

"Even if she was a huge bitch to me. And B) Barbara it felt so good, like I wanna scream into my pillow all night kind of good!" Yn finishes and Barbara laughs at her expression, "Bitch I sure hope it feels good, it isn't every day that someone tells you that they are afraid of who they will become if you are gone AND tells you to ask anything and it is yours, you know, especially FROM DICK GRAYSON" says Barbara, "The same Dick Grayson, whose middle name is casanova with commitment issues" she finished making Yn burst out laughing. Finally, they calm down and stay silent as they process everything. They were still in their outfits, with the exception of their heels as they both lay on the floor of YN's bedroom.

"You know, don't feel so bad about the Dick and Kory thing. I think everyone has been seeing that they were going to fall out at any given moment in the last few years. So I don't really think it was ALL your fault. You being included was more of a last straw kinda thing" says Barbara trying to reassure Yn, who in return looks at her and asks, "You think so?" Barbara nods and Yn stays silent for a moment. "But if they broke up, I am NOT being a rebound. Dick has to prove that this time it is legit! Cause I am not going back to the same hot and cold as always. I can't, Barbara, I cannot! I deserve better and I don't want a few months of love and then for him to turn back into the asshole that he is always with me. I am not going to be the second choice cause his first left. If Dick wants me, he has to earn me" she says confidently and Barbara beams at her. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you." She says and they both laugh. They begin to put on their shoes after finally feeling like they should go back to the ball. They fixed themselves up and walked back. Barbara kept teasing Yn over her situation with Dick and Yn, although she was heavily blushing, she laughed with her friend. As they entered, YN went directly towards Diana with a huge smile, they agreed that Yn would spend the next weekend in New York with her so that she could tell her all about what happened in more privacy.

As she walked back to where Barbara, Cass, and Stephanie were, Yn made brief eye contact with Dick. She felt her heart skip a beat. Dick smiled at her and waved. Yn nodded in acknowledgment and waved back. The night carried on without any other mishaps. Even though, everyone was dying to know what happened between them, they would have to wait until their next Diyn (ship name) meeting to know what happened so they let it slide for tonight and just enjoyed the gala.

That night, as Yn was heading for bed her phone dings. She opens it only to find:

Mi Picaflor <3:

The offer still stands. Ask for anything and it is yours. Goodnight, gorgeous.

--<3--

"Right now, I'm shameless

Screaming my lungs out for ya, not afraid to face it

I need you more than I want to, need you more than I want to"

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emmafreakecreations · 4 months

Text

My utter disappointment with Nessain

So this has been sitting in my drafts for awhile and before CC3 came out so while this is more of me venting my frustration of how they could have worked based on acomaf and acowar but now I never want these two together based what I have seen from people saying what happened in CC3. (And I am fully on the Eris ship) I will say this now, I probably will never read CC series I don't think I have the patience to sit through a 800 page book with a writing style that's not my cup of tea (or the time if I'm being honest) but I have been watching cari can read's videos on these books just so I know things just in case stuff from this series is brought up in acotar now the CC and acotar are connected.

These two just made sense in my head:

Lady Death 🤝 Lord of Bloodshed

A diplomat and a general

A woman who can be prickly on the outside, but a caring, loving person on the inside- a man who is a loving himbo on the outside but a calculating thorough strategist on the inside.

both of them have lots of self-loathing because ✨trauma✨

and yes they got off to a bad start but like there's so many book couples out there that didn't have good first impressions so I waved that away

And I thought Cassian failing to keep his promise to protect Nesta and Elain would be something for Cassian to struggle with

That Cassian's loyalties to the IC and his weird relationship with Mor would be an obstacle for him in his journey to be with Nesta. Nesta and Cassian would get in a big fight about it. Nesta basically saying that "I am your mate why are you not putting me first!" Cassian would learn to get past his weird relationship with Mor.

Both of them learn self-love; Nesta from making friends that are not the IC (gwyn and emerie). Cassian maybe from his mother who is not dead (idk remember if and when his being dead was established). And then they are ready to accept love from each other because they learned to love themselves first.

Cassian had inner monologs noticing how traumatized Nesta was and sympathized with her because he went through the same thing.

They have some of the greatest lines in this whole series:

"I have no regrets in my life, but this. That we did not have time. That I did not have time with you, Nesta. I will find you again in the next world – the next life. And we will have that time. I promise."

Beautiful

the one about him trying to protect her in ACOMAF that for the life me I can't find for some reason

banger

those lines-wasted

One of the few scenes I thought was well written in acosf was when Nesta and Cassian visited the cabin and Nesta talks about her feelings and past and Cassian just listens.

I also thought the solstice scene where he gives her the magical mp3 player was a good scene

But every other scene in this book is shit and not good relationship development

and then to make things worse I read wings and embers after acosf and it made me mad!

#anti acotar #anti sjm #anti nessian #nesta archeron #nesta deserves better #pro nesta

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vvatchword · 13 days

Text

Reading BioShock: Rapture (Part 1: The Cover)

Part 2: John Shirley and the Front Matter ->

“Who the hell is Reggie?” I asked my friends a while back.

Reggie shows up in a lot of BioShock fanfiction. At first I thought he was a fan-made creation that had jumped isolation, but he appeared in enough oddball places that I began to think I had missed something important from canon.

“He’s from the BioShock novel,” a friend replied.

I swore and eyeballed the novel, which has been sitting next to me for about two years now.

BioShock: Rapture is a video-game tie-in novel written by John Shirley (aka Some Guy) and published in July 2011. Originally, it had been slated to release with BioShock 2, which launched February 9, 2010. It did not because it had to work in BioShock 2 elements and the BioShock 1 canon had to be okayed by Ken Levine, creative director of Irrational Games.

Why I’m Reading This Thing

I’ve been working on a BioShock epfic, as you probably know since I won’t shut up about it. I adore working with pre-existing canon in an effort to harmonize dissonant elements and attempt Art (lol); long story short, my fanfiction is for my own satisfaction and nothing more. I like being as accurate as possible; I do not want to lie; and I like to respond to what someone is actually saying rather than the Internet custom of “Inventing a Guy to Get Mad At.”

So of course I bought the BioShock novelization the minute it came out. At the time, I was on about the third draft of my epfic.

I read about 50 pages, writing mean notes in the margins as I went, before I just stopped. I just couldn’t stand it. It was so, so wrong. At the time, I couldn’t have told you why. All I remember was that Andrew Ryan felt pathetic, and that is unforgivable. Ryan should always feel threatening and powerful and real. BioShock: Rapture’s Ryan felt pretentious and annoying and I was pretty sure I could give him a swirly with impunity.

What made this dissonance particularly irritating was that the information presented was not necessarily incorrect, but the tone, social dynamics, and overall implications were… how do I put this? Stupid. Stupid and vapid. The character interactions, the author’s comprehension of social and historical issues, the emotional zing—all void, careless, or off. That subtle off-kilter sensation ends up building into a hell of a thing.

I can stand a lot of bullshit. I even love bullshit. But what I cannot bear under any circumstances is boredom and “safe art.” And BioShock: Rapture was the definition of safe.

I had to realize that this was, first and foremost, a corporate product, lobotomized and neutered and defanged, with all the possible poison sucked out of it. (Coincidentally: just how I felt about BioShock 2.) The person who wrote it didn’t give a shit about it. The corporate execs who commissioned it didn’t give a shit about it. Only Levine probably gave a shit, and only in that the right information was presented. (I don’t know if BioShock 2’s creative director, Jordan Thomas, was involved. He wasn’t mentioned in any of the interviews I read.)

If this had been literally any other book, I would have gotten rid of it and forgotten about its existence. But Ken Levine, creative director of BioShock 1, had been involved, and by all accounts, he hadn’t spared any details. That meant that canon existed in this piece of shit—canon for BioShock 1, my favorite out of the three installments.

I don’t believe in making any more work for myself than necessary, and I don’t always trust wikis: I had to get into this book to find framework for my own.

I had to fucking read it.

The Journal Method

In an attempt to further cement the book in my mind, I first attempted to do a book club with other fans—not once, but four times. My attempts fell through, partially because I fucking hate everything about this book. My brain gremlins scrub it every time I dip my toe in the water. I realized that, to get through this dumpster fire, I would have to write about it. So I decided to use the journal method to attack it, sometimes literally.

See, because I have a jumpy, excitable brain—something like a Jack Russell terrier on meth—I write out my thoughts on the more difficult books I read. These write-ups are usually more like journal entries than about the story itself. It’s not necessarily helpful or interesting to anyone else, but it gives me touchstones that I can return to years later to quickly refresh myself on notes of interest. This way, I retain information and don’t have to re-read whole goddamn books again. Recently I’ve been doing this with Paradise Lost, which is very difficult to read thanks to its archaic English, poetic diction, and constant references to classical myth and literature. It works well!

That said, I kinda hate myself for what this turned into. Is it reasonable? Oh, no, of course not. I started overthinking it at once. You should all know I am Shameful and Cringe and Deserve to Be Thrown in a Well. No balanced human being should care this much about this book or franchise. Thankfully I am deeply imbalanced and have no standards that anyone understands.

I make this readable for my own pleasure. If you come along on the ride, god bless you. Also, feel free to critique or share your own experiences and opinions.

About John Shirley

I’d never heard of John Shirley before this book. According to the bio on the back of this book, he won the Bram Stoker Award for a story collection (Black Butterflies), and has written numerous bestsellers I’ve never heard of, as well as an adaption for Constantine. He was also one of the screenwriters on The Crow.

I do wish I had any sense of any of these things. I do not. Not even The Crow. You’d think that’d be up my alley. I started The Crow and promptly turned it off. This says nothing about his screenwriting, just that I started a movie he impacted once.

I read a few interviews with him regarding the book, which gave me further hints as to his influences. He’s a white centrist Boomer because of course he is. This was the first sign that I should be afraid.

First, socially (and generally) speaking, the more mainstream identities you possess, the more insulated you are, and the less you are challenged to step outside of that viewpoint. The tone and subjects of mainstream media cater specifically to you. You accept this is as “the way the world is” instead of realizing that the mainstream is itself a cultural viewpoint with a limited focus. It takes you effort to empathize with viewpoints outside of your own. Many people never make that effort. The less you attempt to understand alien concepts, the worse you are at doing so.

Second, centrists tend to see every human philosophy as morally neutral. To a centrist, it is the philosophy’s application that can be done Incorrectly or Wickedly.

In my mind, this is supremely stupid. A philosophy is not a law of nature, but a human tool. It can be fundamentally broken in how it approaches the universe; even if it produces good outcomes, its goodness can be outweighed by its negative aspects.

Objectivism is one of these philosophies. If you know anything about it, you know why it’s broken and why it should be thrown in a fire. I will probably explore it in some capacity as I write this piece, but I won’t be terribly exact due to its nature. This is for me to remember what I have read, not to win awards or reach a big audience.

All of this said, I’m coming to this writer in what amounts to a vacuum, with a handful of suppositions based on some quick interviews. I have no perspective on him as a person or artist in any depth. The book is gonna have to stand on its own merits.

About the Front Cover

At first, I began by talking about the prologue, but my criticisms started to spread all over the front matter of the book, which is how you start off with me criticizing the FUCKING COVER.

Generally, covers aren’t really that important, but in this case, I feel like the graphic design implies how much care was taken with the book itself. Someone let the interns do this. I would bet fucking money. The art is completely inappropriate.

How do you choose cover art? Well, what is cover art intended to do? It’s intended to deliver a quick advertisement to the person passing the shelves. It’s supposed to answer questions, like: “What is the story about?” It’s supposed to lure you in. There should be some suggested friction or promised reward.

Look at this fucking thing. What is the art’s focus? Is it interesting? What does it say? Does it give you an idea of the book’s story, characters, plot, setting, or tone? If you knew nothing about BioShock, what would your impression be?

Now, you and I both know (because we are nerds) that the focus is on the globe with the starburst, for we know the starburst is where Rapture is located.

Except that’s not the first thing you’re going to think. The first thing you’re going to do as A Human with Eyes is search for a focal point. The globe seems like a background element, the flare a stylistic choice. You will first latch onto the man and the woman in the bottom left because the human mind is hardwired to look for faces, but they don’t seem to be the focus of the image; in fact, the image feels strangely off, like there should be something else to it.

That’s because this particular image is focused on architecture and setting, with the crowd as flavor over the top; it is best viewed in landscape. The book cover has cut off 2/3 of the goddamn picture and thus completely obscured its original intent. Here’s the original--which is by Craig Mullens, btw. I love it. It’s one of my rotating desktops and I own it in physical form.

"1959," by Craig Mullens

A lithograph of this image was included with a limited-edition game guide released with BioShock 2. It was one of the few special-edition illustrations that did not focus on Big Daddies or Subject Delta. BioShock: Rapture is a prequel, so it couldn’t use any images with Big Daddies on them—it’s not about the social fallout you see in-game. Mullen’s art was, however, a preexisting piece that nobody had to spend any extra money on.

The point being: this art was created for BioShock 2, not for the book.

In other words, no special efforts were made for any of this. Slap on BioShock logo! Find some font evocative of art deco (copy-paste-make shape-paste-in-place), and outline that shit in Illustrator one billion percent. Use this beautiful art in a way that says nothing about what the book is about because it’s really not meant for that purpose to begin with, and get your $0/hour intern to slap it all together.

Whallah! Body-slam that shit on a bookshelf and go back to drinking.

The Back of the Book

The bad graphic design extends to the back of the book. The summary is double-spaced for some reason, there’s little contrast between text and background color, the background is noisy enough to obscure the font, and the Andrew Ryan graphic fucks up the indents, making the summary look like a text wall. It’s not, actually. Regardless, the effect is the same: it obscures readability.

Spoiler: it’s probably because they didn’t want you to read it.

This graphic looks better than the book in person and it is still ass.

Oh hey who wrote this summary?

The First Paragraph of This Lazy-Ass Shit

It was the end of World War II. FDR’s New Deal had redefined American politics. Taxes were at an all-time high. The bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki had created a fear of total annihilation. The rise of secret government agencies and sanctions on business had many watching their backs. America’s sense of freedom was diminishing… and many were desperate to take that freedom back.

Uh whose side is this on lol

So, summaries are here to do two things: explain the general Where, Who, and Plot, and Invoke Interest. A summary is the scantily-clad lady-friend with one knee cocked out of a doorway saying, “Come on in.” She gives us a little wink-wink, shows a little skin, I’ll show u soooo much more if u just step this way big boy.

Unfortunately, the way this summary works is more like somebody flinging buzzwords at you as fast as possible while hoping you don’t look too closely. If you are on the political right, it will immediately invoke a certain fuzzy alarm reserved for words like “communism” and “socialist”; if you are on the political left, it invokes your illiterate aunt’s unhinged Facebook rants. One has the sense that said writer doesn’t actually know what they’re talking about, which is a hell of a way to a) start a summary for historical fiction and b) summarize a book that they should, by all rights, have read.

What’s more, if we judge the strength of its hook alone—its only fucking job, I might as well add—it’s weak as balls: the only sentence that pulls you in is the one about nuclear weapons, and that’s because it gives you a sense of urgency and fear of annihilation. Problem: this book ain’t about nuclear weapons. This book ain’t about the end of World War II at all. Wrong subject. Completely wrong.

You might very rightfully say, “Well, this is from Andrew Ryan’s point of view,” in which case I’m confused, because this is not written from Ryan’s point of view. This is written as Information We All Know and Understand to Be True :) The problem being that it is so slanted, and so vague, and so simplified to the point of stupidity, that it puts the summary’s writer in the spotlight at once, which is a catastrophic failure by every metric. This summary makes me ask questions like, “Should I be wary of the author’s ulterior motives?”

Well. To be fair, a BioShock novel by an Objectivist would be a lot of fun—in the same way Miami Connection is fun. I would absolutely read that and cringe and cry-laugh and throw the book and then pick it up again. Very good times would be had. Why? Because somebody cared about it, and somebody is about to say some very, very stupid bullshit with all the confidence and passion in their whole body, and everything in the story is going to align beautifully to that bullshit, and something bullshitty is going to happen and it will be like watching a train wreck in slow motion.

Let’s just say that I love reading Ayn Rand but it’s not for the reasons she’d prefer.

I want you to know that Shirley has been quoted as saying, “You cannot fly a plane without the left and the right wings,” which I will allow to stand without commentary.

FDR’s New Deal had redefined American politics.

That’s the most diplomatic way I’ve seen the New Deal described. Ever. And I was taught American history in West Texas by a basketball coach. It’s so carefully neutral that the first thing I did was read the sentence twice, like that was going to open up a magical window back to the past and show me what harried motherfucker wrote it. If it had done this, I would have thrown an egg at them. Not very hard. So maybe less of a throw, more of a “rolled it across their desk and closed the window to fuck with them.”

“Where did this egg come from,” they’d say. “What the hell. I hope it isn’t a dimension-hopping nitpicker again.”

Anyway, that’s when I realized everything about this book was probably going to be wrong: as I stood in an aisle at a Barnes and Noble in July 2011. I’m talking about a sinking feeling and a slight nausea. I actually thought about not buying it and I was at a point in my life where I bought everything with a BioShock logo on it. I was also a stupid-ass far-right evangelical flirting with Objectivism at the time. Big fuck-ups all ’round.

If the copywriter wrote this… still not a good sign, but better than if the author wrote it, because a) this prose is clumsy as fuck and b) the end of World War II is not the point and thus should not lead.

Is There a Right Way or Are You Being a Cunt?

Yes!

What is the point? Andrew Ryan as a person; what history has done to Andrew Ryan; what people have done to Andrew Ryan; Andrew Ryan’s philosophy; Andrew Ryan’s goals; Andrew Ryan’s failures; Andrew Ryan. ANDREW MOTHERFUKCING RYAN. Start with RYAN, not with the historical context.

America’s sense of freedom was diminishing…

In. In what context. Citation needed. Citation please. Loaded language. Loaded like a fucking gun.

The rise of secret government agencies and sanctions on business had many watching their backs.…

Woo. Whooooah WHOOOOOAH hold on there Silver whooooooah I’m gonna need you to hold on a second. This is way too fucking vague.

At first I thought it might reference the USSR in addition to the United States, but by starting and ending the paragraph with America-centric sentences, the “where” and the “who” is most likely “America” and “gubmint” respectively. That’s immediately problematic because those two concepts are so vast.

What government agencies? What sanctions? Who’s the “many”? What are the wrongs? I’m still groping in the dark. My friends in hell, this is a summary. That means I (the Reader) should know exactly what is going on by Sentence One. So far I have the vaguest notions of historical period and authorial motivation as written by a 12-year-old off 4chan.

A lot has been written, but nothing has been said. This paragraph depends on You (the Reader) to ascribe value judgments about these vaguely-referenced enormous fucking political machines. And we can’t because, I mean… we don’t know who they are, what they’re doing, or why they’re bad. Also, given the writer’s clear axe-grinding, I’m kinda wary, so I’m already holding them at arm’s length.

Now, I can appreciate that the writer was trying to give historical context, but in this particular story, that context only makes sense once it filters through Andrew Ryan. Andrew Ryan takes a vast, infinitely-complex part of history and narrows it down to one place, one time, one person, one ideology. If you throw a net that’s too wide, you lose all definition. A fucking metric shit-ton of bullshit went down in the little window between the end of World War II and the founding of Rapture: World War II literally affected every single country and human being on Earth, and even cutting it back to Just America is too vast a subject to simply imply.

What is more, the story of Rapture is not the story of World War II or handsy government, it’s the story of how Andrew Ryan dealt with challenges he could not bear. The minute you focus on Ryan, the summary clicks, and everything immediately grows more concise and clear: then we can have specific government entities and specific events that lead to Ryan building a utopia beneath the sea. Lead with Andrew Ryan and the explicit ways he has been hurt. Make it personal, a story about a person, and make it specific, and for god’s sake, make it FUCKING INTERESTING.

Long story short, this summary feels like you’ve opened a bad theme from a high school student and they need to type so, so many words and it’s 4:46 AM and they are fucking tired and they can only reword Wikipedia so much before they lose their fucking mind.

Paragraphs Two through Four

Among them was a great dreamer, an immigrant who’d pulled himself from the depths of poverty to become one of the wealthiest and most admired men in the world. That man was Andrew Ryan, and he believed that great men and women deserved better. So he set out to create the impossible, a utopia free from government, from censorship, and from moral restrictions on science, where what you gave was what you got. He created Rapture—the shining city below the sea.

Someone is fucking stanning. Someone was definitely arguing on forums that Rapture would have worked great if only… and then they gave a long bulleted list, and everyone called them a big dork even though they’re all on a video game forum arguing about a game from 2007.

Now to give you a little perspective, this book was released fresh after the Tea Party movement had really gotten its feet under it. So I couldn’t help but think: who is writing this? Why is it written this way? Were they trying to channel a libertarian, or did they really mean it? Are they the kind of person who would excuse Ted Cruz?

If we had started the summary by focusing on Andrew Ryan personally, we wouldn’t have this problem.

But this utopia suffered a great tragedy. This is the story of how it all came to be… and how it all ended.

A tragedy!!! In my BioShock? It’s more likely th an y ou th in

Look at the way this is fucking phrased, I can’t…

I can’t

Why Are You Like This

This is a great time to talk about auxiliary (or helper/helping) verbs and passive voice, because this summary is lousy with them, and this is a textbook example of how they can suck the tension straight out of a premise.

The Tools

Passive voice indicates that something has been done to the subject. The subject is not an actor in their own right: they were affected, and they were powerless to stop it. They are, by definition, inactive.

Auxiliary or helping verbs are myriad, but the most common ones are “are,” “go,” and “has.” In function, they tend to soften sentences—probably because they imply the action has been finished. They are also colorless, weightless, and have no emotional oomph: auxiliary verbs are 100% structural.

The ideal is to say as much as you can with as few words as you can, and that means using the most proper and powerful words possible in the best possible places and arrangements.

Back to the Summary

Remember what I told you that an ideal summary should do?

You want a summary to be immediate and punchy. You want it to suck the reader in. You want a sense of who all the major players are and the problem involved.

In this case, it’s Andrew Ryan, Bill McDonagh, and probably Frank Fontaine. There should probably be a government entity represented by some toady, too. Maybe even some suggestion of specific bills or social movements. Hint that Ryan’s got an ideal and that he sold the fuck out of it, and that people believed so much in that ideal that they’d abandon everything they worked for to go under the sea.

It was the end of World War II.

World War II gave me a little jump of interest, but on the whole, I feel nothing. This is a state of being and it’s just chilling here. There’s no problem. In fact, this is the definition of a solved problem. I’m all about no-Hitler! Okay! Good! Yeah!

So?

Taxes were at an all-time high.

Passive voice is used here because it’s explaining a state of existence. A state is, by virtue of its nature, inactive. Nothing is happening. It already happened. Here we are, standing here, breathing, existing, taxed. All righty.

So?

The only tension we get here is from the construction of the sentence itself. This is a loaded sentence—it implies that taxes are bad, it implies that they’re being improperly used, and it gives no actors—but that turns your focus onto the summary writer, not onto the story itself. It’s like these taxes just materialized out of the ether. What’s more, we don’t know where these taxes are being levied or what’s being done with them. This shouldn't be passive. Who's the actor?

In some ways, thanks to the placement of this sentence, this implies that the taxes are a major subject. You head to the next sentence expecting expansion on the tax problem.

Coincidentally, that’s not a great load-bearing sentence. I can think of nothing more boring than taxes. It’s only interesting if you’re some kind of crazy reactionary asshole who operates solely via political slogans.

The bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki had created a fear of total annihilation.

Finally, some tension! Now we also have a setting! Unfortunately, it’s enormous—it’s worldwide. So are we talking about worldwide taxes? As in, raised taxes were a worldwide phenomenon?

Wait a minute. What the fuck are you

The rise of secret government agencies and sanctions on business had many watching their backs.

WHERE ARE WE? “Secret” is a little exciting, but what “government agencies” and “sanctions” and what are they doing? Who is the “many”? Taxes + business means I see an economic concern front and center. So why is nuclear weaponry in here?

On another note, why is this so fucking dry? It’s like I’m reading a Wikipedia summary. The only powerful language has been “secret” and “all-time high” and “total annihilation.” What the fuck is going on?

Everything is so vague—so problematically, memeishly vague—that now my hackles are up. This sounds just like a boomer on the bus yelling at his phone. This is Neil Breen levels of indistinct. I don’t like it. It sounds like someone who doesn’t know what the fuck they’re talking about, and this is a fucking HISTORICAL NOVEL.

I am now completely switched off from thinking about the story. It doesn’t seem like there’s much of a story at all. In fact, this sounds like it’s going to be unfocused conservative ramblings. I am now thinking not about the story, but about the writer as a person. I’m starting to wonder if even the author doesn’t know what they’re focused on—which implies a story without a solid structure—which implies a story without a through-line.

I don’t want to restate everything I just said, but you can see the problem, right? Things are just happening. Every occurrence is shared as a state of being. The people suffering are unnamed, and the ways they are suffering is indistinct. The friction is indistinct, too. I have no idea what I’m rooting for, I have no idea what the subject is, and we are four sentences in.

A good summary should be about 3-8 sentences long and punch you in the face. So far I have experienced the literary equivalent of a dry gnat fart.

Let’s move ahead.

That man was Andrew Ryan, and he believed that great men and women deserved better.

God I hate this fucking line. It says absolutely nothing about Andrew Ryan or Objectivism.

What is “better”? Better than what? Under what circumstances? What does Andrew Ryan believe? Why should I be interested? Why are you sharing this in past tense before the story even begins? This sounds like something tension should be attached to. Why is there no tension here?

Andrew Ryan is based on Ayn Rand, and Rapture is based on Objectivist ideals. People live and die as Objectivists. They fight for Objectivist ideals. On this very day you can go to YouTube and look up a recording of Andrew Ryan’s speech and some dumbass has uploaded it to YouTube with a slideshow of patriotic imagery. That’s how accurately Ken Levine cleaved to Objectivist ideals: that actual libertarians look at the message of the game and go WELL ACKSHUALLY

I think I’ve figured out why this is all so vague, though. Objectivism is controversial and Objectivists have no shame whatsoever. We can’t have controversy in our fucking BioShock! Maybe the powers-that-be defanged it because they didn’t want to deal with fallout. (Ha ha ha ha aaa h a ) Maybe they defanged it because they wanted to sell it to as wide an audience as possible, and they didn’t want to insult anybody holding $20.

Did they not play the game? Because that’s embarrassing. It definitely puts BioShock Infinite in a new light for me. There’s no way for us to accurately understand Ken Levine, a public figure, as a human being—all we have are little snapshots of him in time and second-hand accounts, which by their natures will vary in truth—but I’m starting to wonder if he started to raise this big middle finger, like: “ooooh u want me to be safe? Fuck youuuuuuuuu”

Which I can appreciate, obviously.

This fear of controversy is prime executive behavior. Executives, as I’ve learned over time, are fucking morons. Have you ever met an old man with the personality of a 15-year-old? Think Elon Musk. Well, there’s a reason for that. Because they hold the purse strings, you can’t talk to them honestly, because there’s a real chance they’ll take offense and strike back at you right in the pocketbook. Because they’re so wealthy, they can buy their ways out of suffering, so the fear of god is never slapped into them, and they have absolutely no conception of what true loss is. It’s not that they can’t fail, but their failure is so much more insulated than ours is. It’s how you end up with Oceangate: people to whom life has said “yes” so often that they have no respect for physics.

Executives are so used to being coddled that any pushback deeply wounds them. They can afford to be psychologically insecure. As a group, they are fertile ground for Objectivism to take root; they are most likely to see themselves as the Randian Ubermensch, for they also tend to be unreasonably wealthy—and that’s because of their innate genius and capability, right?

This is the height of an unchallenged viewpoint.

So he set out to create the impossible, a utopia free from government, from censorship, and from moral restrictions on science, where what you gave was what you got.

This is sentence eight, at the end of an 11-sentence-long summary, and ladies and gentlefolks, we have finally HIT THE FUCKING PLOT. I am going to hit a motherfuckin copywriter is what I’m going to fucking do.

THIS IS THE PLOT. This is where all the tension should be. This is where we should have our actors. This is the plot! It’s about Rapture! It’s about building Rapture!

Look how they wrote this shit!

The story should, by all rights, begin with a question: can Andrew Ryan build Rapture?

The extremely literal dumbass will say: “Yes hurhur.” But stories are not built on certainty, my fellow assholes. They are built on questions and friction and problems. We know how it ends, yes. Technically we knew how it ended when we started BioShock 1, didn’t we? The question you’re answering isn’t Yes/No, it’s WHY.

That doesn’t mean you treat the story as though the city is already built. Hypothetically there was a point where Rapture was just a very nice dream. That should be interesting in and of itself. The point of tension is Rapture’s production—the reasons why people want it, the acts taken to produce it, the actors who try to stop it, why someone would stop it, the ways you attract citizens to inhabit it without alerting the entire universe, the process of upkeep. Worldbuilding shit. What are Rapture’s pros and cons, the devils in the details, the kind of society that evolves from a place like this?

Why are they talking about it like it’s already been built? Why are they using past tense for a story that I haven’t read yet? I read a lot of stories knowing how they end. I don’t read for the sakes of endings. It’s like some dim-bulb somewhere was like, “Uhhhhh historical fiction uhhhhh it already happened so uhhhhh let’s write it in past tense…”

All stories have already happened by definition. It is finished. It lies in your hands. You talk about it in present tense in a summary because the reader’s experience is the important part. Reading is about the experience, not about the ending.

Someone somewhere is a colossal dumbfuck and I hate them for even touching my smart fucking video game. Don’t even speak its title. Get the fuck out of here you fucking clown and go back to reading shitty YA.

But this utopia suffered a great tragedy.

“This utopia suffered,” like nobody saw this shit coming. Like nobody was involved. We’ve gone from blaming everybody to blaming nobody. Like there was a natural disaster or an alien attack or God reached down and flicked Rapture into space.

This is. Just. Just the worst.

What the fuck am I reading about? Who are the shakers and movers? What are the focal points? A summary can’t and shouldn’t give you the whole story, but it sure as hell should give you some sense of what the trouble is and who’s causing it.

This line is what really kicked my brain in gear: the summary is so fucking hands-off. It doesn’t make any promises; it doesn’t fucking commit. It’s a vague scene with no actors in it. You might be tempted to say, “Well, Andrew Ryan is mentioned!” But the problem is that he’s mentioned off-hand, like he just kinda exists in the ether with the Bad Gubmint and the Many and the Taxes. It doesn’t introduce any problems and it doesn’t stand for anything. It’s just so vague and mealymouthed. Grow a fucking spine and stand for something you fucking cowards.

This idea offers a small possibility: that someone didn’t like the subject and described it at arm’s length—what they thought the author was saying while feeling deeply uncomfortable.

Whatever the case, this summary offers nothing. It isn’t even hot air. It’s a little gasp of lukewarm something-or-other. It has no scent, no function, no body, no face. Like the tenses it employs, it simply exists.

I’m pretty sure nobody loved this story while they wrote it and it shows. And if there’s anything I don’t trust, it’s work nobody gives a shit about. Being shitty isn’t the ultimate failure: being boring is. And this shit is boring.

AND IT’S JUST THE FUCKING SUMMARY.

Hope Springs Eternal

I remember reading the back of this novel before I bought it and feeling my stomach sink. I still bought it because I was that heartsick for a big ol’ BioShock novel. The only fanfiction anyone ever writes is instant-gratification short-form and that makes me very sad. At the same time, one must be sensible: writing a novel is a lot of fucking work, and one should be fucking grateful one gets anything at all. In fandom, where everything is a product of passion and free time, one must be particularly respectful of this.

But this is not fandom; money has changed hands several times along the way; and I expect certain standards from something for which I have exchanged funds. BioShock: Rapture was not written because somebody believed in it or loved it; it was written primarily to be a Product. It is cynical, as BioShock 2 was cynical, to appeal to as many as possible—which means that by definition, it is insecure, afraid, and says fuck all.

This is bad, okay. This is very bad. This is somebody who didn’t understand the game on some of the most basic levels imaginable. Things like: what is BioShock about? What is the moral system and philosophy in BioShock—as intended, as it actually landed, and as represented by different characters and the player? What does BioShock say about idealism and those who adhere to ideals at the expense of human wellbeing? How are characters influenced by world tragedies on a personal level? What happens when you have an entire population of radicals and there’s no longer a convenient Other to hate?

What makes BioShock interesting?

Whoever wrote this summary has no fucking clue, and what’s more, they don’t particularly care. All they understand is a Bad versus Good dynamic. Anything more complex makes them snort and stomp like a mule deer, and they’re just about to fling themselves off sideways and hurtle through an elementary-school window screaming about liberals or transgenders or something.

This had better be a copywriter because I’m about to roll some stinky-ass eggs y’all

Part 2: John Shirley and the Front Matter ->

#bioshock #bioshock rapture #bioshock 2 #bioshock infinite #essays #writing #fanfiction #vvatchword #vv reading

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brybryby · 1 year

Text

VERY LONG POST IM SORRY. DONT FEEL OBLIGED TO READ

HI. Alrighty, this has been on my mind for a while (ever since promotional content for Trials started being released).

I have a TON of analyses in the drafts, but I want to make this post before I release them for public viewing.

I know that I like to make goofy, light-hearted little fan animations and fan art of Outlast, but I think I need to start changing how I navigate through the content. After spending so much of my time deep diving and writing up these analyses, my eyes have been opened to just how much the franchise revolves around fucked up historical events. I feel that some of the stuff I've posted is tone deaf, or at least the way I posted about it is. And I think—for the most part—there's an understanding that I don't intend to be harmful, but I fear that the way I go about it **is**. (And obviously, action takes precedence over intent.)

For contextualization, when I initially got into Outlast at the age of 12, I was enthralled by the horror aesthetics and found a lot of the angsty gore to be cathartic. I felt so “taboo” and “scandalous” lol (especially as a developing child trying to understand myself amidst my puberty stage). I was young and—for lack of a better word—braindead in how I navigated the media. I was naive, mindless, ignorant, etc etc… Now that I have a deeper understanding of the narratives and historical implications/influences, I need to do better in how I interact with the franchise.

What am I getting at?

Pretty much, I'm working on being more careful with how I interact with the media. At the same time, I want the analyses that I post to be educational. And most importantly, please message me if I ever say some bullshit. Seriously. All I ever want to do with my life is to be a positive impact. I genuinely get upset if I cause harm to someone else. (One time I literally cried at a high school football game as a freshman because I thought I hurt someone else's feelings. It turned out they were faking it lmao. Then they started feeling bad and then that made me feel bad for crying and yea yea).

Seriously though. I know that my posts can get public outreach, and anything that has public outreach can be influential and have a good or bad impact. So please let me know if I do or say anything harmful or ignorant. I won't be offended. I don’t want to spread harmful stuff. There are many instances in my life where people sit me down to have meaningful conversations about shit I've said or done and how I can improve myself.

That said, I'll be posting more analyses and making my own syntheses of historical events. My next analysis post will be about Waylon's Asian-coding (specifically Korean-coding), how Trials actually supports this (using themes of US immigration), and why it is apparent to many Asian fans (including me, hehe).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That's pretty much it. But if you wanna stick around a bit further, I'll tell you my (excruciatingly long) story about how I got into Outlast :) along with how much it has invaded my brain and life :') and maybe get a little ~personal~ hehe

STORYTIME:

So, the game came out in 2013. Nearly 10 years ago. I was 12 at the time of its release. Let me tell you…this game was a HUGE impact in the horror community. HOLY. SHIT. It changed the way I looked at lockers and beds. I remember it being critically acclaimed (and rightfully so). It may have not been the most technical video game, but it certainly was a piece of art.

I remember commercials being shown everywhere. The trailer of beta Miles Upshur running and parkouring through Mount Massive while being chased by the tiny beta model of Chris Walker will forever be canonized as part my childhood. I remember specifically heading to the bathroom from my living room and my dad interrupting me to say “Hey! Check this out!” and then proceeding to play the trailer for my 12-year-old eyes. I was scared shitless.

Couple weeks later, Conan O'Brien featured Outlast in one of his segments of “Clueless Gamer” (yeah, my family and I used to watch Conan lol). I was very familiar with Slender and Amnesia, which were the 2 other games featured in this Halloween special, but this was the first time I REALLY got to check out Outlast.

Now, let me preface that during this time, internet culture was very interesting and even less safe than it is today. I had a ton of bad experiences on the internet during my childhood. But oddly (and embarrassingly), the emo/scene/horror/creepypasta culture was what brought me comfort amongst a sea of awful things you could find on the internet. It was probably unhealthy for my developing brain, but I indulged in a lot of angst that was presented with heavy gore and violence. And to be honest, looking at this kind of stuff at a young age helped me process a lot of my own personal shit that I experienced outside of the internet realm. (To be clear, I don't endorse this type of violence, and I don't endorse exploring the internet in the same way I did as a child—it was probably very unhealthy and I think it caused some early development issues.)

But nothing—and I mean NOTHING—scratched that itch more than the way Outlast did. I watched the finger cutting scene in Conan's “Clueless Gamer” and was fucking mortified. I was scared of the dark for weeks. But I remember spending that night in my bedroom looking at more Outlast content to get that cathartic fix to fill my emotional hole of…I don't know…morbid curiosity? I definitely felt shame at the time. I don't know. In recent years, I've been on this journey to process stuff I experienced during my childhood and I struggle to go about my middle-school/junior-high stage because…I don't know…puberty? Access to the internet? I once got bullied by a forum of adult men for posting fan art LMAO. I was 12 years old—I forgot what the fan art even was. ANYWAYS, yea. That was only one instance of my conglomeration of internet experiences. (Like many other peeps, I had to hide my gender & racial identity to preserve my sanity). Indulging in gore art was therapeutic and helped me release negative emotions in a non-harmful way. Horror-genre communities online have been mostly friendly and welcoming towards me. That's probably why I fell in love with Outlast as an art rather than a video game.

I wasn't in the fandom straight off the bat. I had other hyper fixations at times but I navigated through these other fixations with this personal “Outlast standard” where the art and fiction I consumed needed to be horror-themed, gorey, or angsty. And Outlast isn't solely to blame. I was into gore and angst before the game came out. It just so happened that it came out at such a perfect time in my life. (Horror made my queer self feel accepted)

This whole “Outlast standard” stuck with me throughout high school. Uh… this next bit of information may get a little personal. During my sophomore year, someone really important in my life passed away. Then I had this life-impacting thing happen during my junior year that changed how I perceived things forever (lol, this sounds so dramatic). I turned to art to help me process and yada yada… but y'know what really helped? You know what I turned to when I needed to “scratch the itch”? (I bet you'll never guess)

I finally considered myself a part of the Outlast fandom in 2018-2019. I was a high school junior/senior and I posted the Outlast-Outkast animation that got retweeted by Red Barrels. Had a lot of fun in the fandom during that time and it helped get my mind off of things. Also, I loved the fact that Waylon graduated from Berkeley. I was applying to colleges during this time and it made me romanticize Berkeley, lol. I ended up getting accepted. Had an awesome time. I recently graduated and got my Bachelor's. I'm very privileged and gracious for my experience. I spent a lot of grueling time and energy dedicated towards my education.

During my college years, a lot of the unprocessed shit from my childhood started resurfacing and it was becoming hard to navigate through life. I became really disconnected with people who were close to me. Art started to fall out of my life. Stuff happened. Got in touch with psychiatrists thanks to my college's free health services. I don't mean to downplay or normalize what happened, but I'll bring up that many college students deal with mental illness and depression (and this could be attributed to many things: moving away from family, student-life, financial pressure, pressure to secure jobs/internships, living alone for the first time, maturing into an adult, etc. etc.).

But I remember sitting alone in my studio apartment one weekend and started surfing Tumblr. I came across new Outlast fan art and it sparked my hyper fixation all over again. I re-read the comics and—OKAY THIS IS GONNA SOUND FUCKING RIDICULOUS—but I started jogging because Miles went on jogs LMAOOAKJDGHJAHKGFL. I finally picked up the pencil and started drawing again (after like…months) and drew Miles and Waylon flipping off Murkoff. And THAT was when I realized what the narratives of Outlast were actually about—FUCKIN' CAPITALISM AAUGGGHHH. MY LITTLE POOPOO BRAIN AT AGE 12 NEVER UNDERSTOOD THAT. AND NOW THAT I'M AN ADULT—NOW THAT I CAN BLATANTLY SEE MYSELF AND MY PEERS AS VICTIMS/PRODUCTS OF CAPITALISM—CAN FINALLY FIND SO MUCH VALUE AND MEANING IN THIS GAME HHHRHRJGHKSDKFGLAJKDG SAY W H A T IM GONNA *explodes*

Then a year later, I started drawing more and more again. Trials' promotional marketing was becoming more prominent. I started posting my fan art on Tumblr. Then I made the fanimation (thank you Mr. Baichoo, you're so awesome, I will forever be a fan of yours) and now here I am. Still fixated on this silly little game for nearly 10 years. WHEW.

I FEEL LIKE A SHRIMP CHIP. Anyways, thanks. I much needed to get this off my chest.

Also, hey! Just wanted to say thanks for the friendly and welcoming interactions in this space. It feels so much safer and more comforting than previous internet experiences I've had. Since 2013, the fandom has evolved a lot. In my opinion, it has evolved for the better. The resurgence of new fans bring such refreshing perspectives and fields of knowledge that haven't been influenced by some of the harmful internet culture that I grew up in. So truly, many thanks to y'all for making the fandom space a nicer place (especially for such a heavy game). Also, what the heck, everyone in the fandom is seriously so talented and artistic

Uh… fan art time? (old stuff/sketches I haven’t posted)

But seriously if you got this far, thank you

#outlast video essay #brybryby text

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ferris-the-wheel · 8 months

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How these TWST characters would act like in a library + their favorite book genre.

Author's note: This was kind of a shit post. Also this was definitely not proofread so ignore any mistakes please.

TW: None

He'd make sure to ask the librarian what all the rules are so that he doesn't accidentally break one.

You already know that he knows exactly how to search for books and has memorized the organization style of the library.

He would find a secluded area to read. He expects everyone else in the library to follow the rules as well.

He'd totally just walk up to someone who's breaking a rule and tell them off (quietly). He'd intimidate the person so much they probably won't come back to the library. 😅

He's definitely a non-fiction reader the majority of the time, though he may dabble in fictional books if they're recommended to him.

He isn't the type to go into libraries, but when he does, he's... okay. He knows the basic rules but sometimes forgets them.

He would need a bit of help searching for books since he doesn't generally go to libraries and hasn't bothered to memorize the way the books are sorted.

He isn't much of a reader, but he prefers fictional books when he does. He likes to imagine himself as the protagonist of the books and pretending he's in that world.

He would totally check out a library book and forget it existed. It'd be like two weeks overdue and just sitting in his room somewhere. He would only remember when he starts getting emails/phone calls reminding him to renew or return his book.

The librarian does not like him much. Not because of his personality, he's just so loud. He'd be given constant reminders to be quieter, which he would try to do, but his volume would always get louder after a little while.

He would prefer fictional books because, like Ruggie, he would love to explore the fictional worlds of the books. He would want to taste all the foods and go to all the cool places.

The only reason his books wouldn't be overdue is because Jamil would either remind him constantly to turn his books in or Jamil would just check with Kalim which books he's not done reading yet and return the ones he'd finished (renewing the ones he hadn't yet).

He likes libraries because of all the things he could read about there. If he feels like reading about one topic, there's a whole dedicated to it. If he decides to read about another topic, there are plenty of books on that too.

This guy loves going to libraries. It's a quiet place for him to just relax and read. He's likely been in enough libraries throughout his life to know the rules.

I don't think he'd have a set genre he likes to read. I think that since he's already lived for a long time, he'd already know a lot of what history books are talking about since he practically lived through those events. So he'd like reading fictional books so that he could imagine what life in those books are like.

On the other hand, I think he'd like reading nonfiction books because he could read about the histories of other places he's not as familiar with, such as their cultures, traditions, native animals, and other things like that.

He'd be so immersed in the books that he was reading that he'd forget he had to return them to the library. Then he would forget to go to the library, but Lilia would make sure to return them before they became overdue.

TWST characters in a library? I know, totally random. It's just something that popped into my brain a while ago and has taken *checks calendar* 4 days to make due to lack of motivation.

Btw, this is just my opinion of how they would act in a library.

I love how the almost finished product had been siting in my drafts for 2 days until I decided to finish it 🤣

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst wonderland

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of-a-chaotic-mind · 2 years

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JJ Maybank Headcanons:

A/N: I know I said I was gonna write more but I’ve barely had time or energy to even clean my house lately soooo. Anyway, I’m literally writing these on my lunch break. I may write some for the other pogues too idk yet it depends on how many I can come up with for them. I just have a good bit for JJ bc I think about him a lot lmao. Without further ado.

P.S. This has been sitting in my drafts for like a week awaiting the moment that I decide I'm happy with it lol. So here it is finally.

Random Headcanons:

He sleeps in starfish pose. Like you cannot tell me that this dude can’t or won’t take up an entire bed by himself.

We all know his motto, “Stupid things have good outcomes all the time,” but this dude's number one signature catchphrase has to be “Full Send!” followed closely by “YOLO Bitches!”

This may just be biased bc of Uncharted and the Royal Merchant ordeal but I can definitely see JJ pretending to be a pirate who’s on a massive treasure-hunting expedition when he was a little kid.

JJ’s hidden talent? Rapping. His ADHD and quick mind help him come up with lyrics quickly and even if they don’t always make sense to others they make sense to him 90% of the time.

JJ is either a fighting drunk or a goofy drunk. It’s either “let’s throw some hands” or “I’ma dance on that table brb” there is no in-between.

As for when he’s high, I think JJ is one of those people that just comes up with absolute nonsense that kinda makes sense. He has really deep thoughts about random shit and barely shuts up.

He does a lil dancey dance. I can see him just kinda standing in line, standing amongst the Pogues or they're all sitting around doing nothing and he gets bored so he dances along to whatever song is playing in his head. It often distracts the Pogues and cracks them up.

JJ is a speed demon no ifs ands or buts about it. This makes him a pro at playing spot the cop because while he enjoys the rush, he does not enjoy the idea of getting a ticket.

Somehow, Kie once convinced him to let her put his hair in tiny pigtails. He may or may not have been drunk.

You know that cute little thing where one person sticks out their hand and another rests their chin in it? So, as long as it's someone he trusts i.e. the Pogues or a significant other, they can stick their hand out and catch his attention and he will immediately put his chin in it even if he has to hurdle over tables in his mad dash from across the room.

I saw someone headcanon, I’m sorry but I can’t remember who, that JJ can play drums. I 100% agree. I can see him just banging around on them to let out some frustration one day and Kie convinced him to actually learn how to play them. Let me tell you, it was not easy at all bc JJ’s attention span didn’t wanna hold out for it but eventually he got the hang of it.

Unfortunately, at the insistence of the Pogues, JJ is no longer allowed to light fireworks anymore after having almost caught not only the dock but also The Chateau on fire one Fourth of July.

Dating Him Headcanons:

JJ is always attached to his love in some way, shape, or form. It could just be a simple shoulder-to-shoulder thing or he could be practically backpacked on you with his arms wrapped around your shoulders, his chin resting on your head or in the crook of your neck, and him leaning against your back.

JJ doesn't have a lot of money but what he does have is the desire to shower you with gifts so what does he do? He makes things for you or steals them but that's not the point. Your wrists, hands, and neck are probably always adorned in loads of bracelets, rings, and necklaces that he made for you. They may not look like much to other people but to you, they mean the world and you would never let anything happen to them.

JJ is a huge fan of words of affirmation. Remind him often that you love him and are very proud of him, even sprinkle in a few compliments.

That being said, as you can probably tell from the first headcanon of this section, his favorite form of showing love is physical touch. He loves giving it and receiving it.

JJ loves to make you laugh. He'll pull out the cheesiest pick-up lines and corniest dad jokes if it means he gets even a giggle out of you.

So, like I said previously, JJ takes up the entire bed. I also feel like you'll have to fight him for the blankets. You both may start the night out cuddled up all cute and shit but by the time you both wake up, he's spread out as much as possible leaving you to either tuck into his side or flat out lay on top of him.

JJ never says no if you ask for a piggyback ride. Sometimes if he thinks you’re getting tired he’ll just stop in front of you and squat down motioning for you to hop on.

I think a lot of people think that if JJ were ever jealous he would throw hands or super cockily just butt into the conversation and distract you but I personally think he’s a mean-mugging jealous. Like, say you’re having a polite, innocent conversation with some Touron but JJ gets jealous. I think he’d simply walk up behind you and give the person an “if looks could kill” glare. Soon enough the Touron gets the hint and dips. I don’t think JJ would want to fight in front of you if he could help it even if every bone in his body is screaming to throw hands. He doesn’t want to scare you.

Masterlist

More JJ Maybank Imagines

#jj maybank #jj maybank headcanon #jj maybank headcanons #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank imagines #obx #obx headcanon #obx headcanons #outer banks #outer banks headcanon #outer banks headcanons

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fluffykitteninabox · 6 months

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watching Doctor Who for the first time (starting with the 9th doctor)

I'm only doing this because I've developed an unhealthy obsession with David Tennant since watching Good Omens, and I have a need to watch everything he's ever appeared in, and I know he's the 10th and 14th doctor so therefore I must watch 15 seasons of a show I otherwise wouldn't have cared about just to see him for 3 of them and a few specials!

I'm starting with the 9th because it seems like an easier starting point for a new fan from what I've read online

yes I've done research for this!

Plus the 9th doctor only got one season so it's close enough to the 10th that I don't mind watching it.

I am a completionist though so I will probably end up going back and watching the available episodes from before the revival if I like the series enough

so here's my thoughts

episode 1:

I hope we never see moving mannequins again because that shit creeps me out

honestly Rose, same. I too would have chosen the life of adventure and time travelling to infinite universes. Though I do think it felt kinda rushed to have her refuse and then immediately agree after she was told about the time travel part. Would be a cool opening if she refused on the first episode and then she spent the next one thinking about it and then changed her mind by the end. Or if we want to stick to the self contained structure show a bit more about her not liking her ordinary boring life so that it feels like a great offer when the doctor asks her to join him. I mean it does still feel like a great offer after she saved him and saying all that stuff about how she doesn't have anything to lose and gymnastics and all that. It's the back and forth that ruins it a bit honestly. Just have her say yes the first time.

I didn't know the tardis was an acronym! That's kinda cool

so is Rose never going to see her mom or her boyfriend again?

episode 2:

Alright I take it back she has doubts in episode 2 so that's good

that was a hell of an episode I don't know how to phrase it I think it changed my brain chemistry

I might be having an existential crisis?

respect to the tree lady I don't remember her name sorry

ironic how all these aliens exhibited more humanity than the supposed "last human"

kinda sad for the poor plumber that probably died too, we focused a lot on the rich guests but the workers on the ship deserved better

one thing I appreciate is that Rose chose to see the future. my personal choice would have been past but I think her choosing future is really in character for her (I say as if I've known her my whole life when I've only watched 2 episodes)

didn't expect to unlock the doctor's back story so early on. I'm guessing there's more later but for now that's already more than I thought I'd get

um yeah I was going to watch like the whole season in one or two sittings but like... I feel like my brain needs a break after episode two lol

well I was planning this post to have all my thoughts for season 1 but tumblr decided to go ahead and post my unfinished draft AGAIN even though I specifically clicked the SAVE button but anyway

guess I'll have to edit this or reblog as I go

whatever

fuck you tumblr

#krista's doctor who marathon #doctor who #9th doctor

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disgruntledkittenface · 1 year

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snippet

thank you @louisandtheaquarian and @nouies for tagging me to share a snippet! I finished a draft of the first chapter of the fic I’m working on and I think it’s rough but I reallllllly like the story

“So you all live here in Southampton?” Harry asks, looking around as Zayn and Liam nod.

“Not me,” Louis says, trying to subtly inch away from Zayn, who still has his arm around his shoulders. “My dad has a place here, but I live at my mom’s house in Sag Harbor.”

Harry rests his hand on Louis’ knee, as if to comfort him. No one he’s ever had a crush on has been able to read him so well, so quickly. He angles his body toward Harry, finally disentangling from Zayn, who’s distracted by something over by the game of cornhole.

“It’s really nice,” he says, keeping his voice down so only Harry can hear. “Our house is on the water, and the downtown area is really nice. It feels like a small town. Well, that’s kind of true everywhere in the Hamptons…”

“Yeah, there’s lots of…” Harry gestures vaguely with his free hand. “Like small businesses and American flags and people saying hello on the street.”

“See,” Louis says, tilting his head. “You already get the vibe, you know the area.”

“So why’d your mum pick Sag Harbor? Because it’s a good place to raise a family?”

“Yes and no,” Louis admits, smoothing his hair off his forehead. “It is good for families, but since the divorce, she does whatever she can to avoid my dad. She doesn’t even come out to the house in the summer, she always goes to Europe. I think she’s in Saint-Tropez right now.”

“Oh, I love it down there,” Harry says, grinning. “We try to go every year. There’s this great little Moroccan restaurant that’s a little off the beaten path, Salama. You should tell your mum to go there.”

“Oh,” Louis says, his back stiffening as he realizes that the restaurant Harry is talking about is closed. He doesn’t want to say anything in front of his friends, so he just nods. “Yeah, yeah, I will.”

“Uh, didn’t that place shut down, like, five years ago?” Luke laughs derisively from the log across the fire. “Thought you said you go every year, dude, how did you not know that?”

“Oh, shit, that’s right,” Harry says, rubbing his fingers over his mouth as he appears to remember. “Now that you say that, it’s been longer than I thought since I’ve eaten there.”

“I don’t even know if she’s still there anyway,” Louis says to Harry. He’ll have to murder Luke later. For now, all he wants is to talk to Harry outside of a tennis lesson. “She could be eating Moroccan food in Morocco for all I know. She only checks in, like, every other month.”

“One time, my parents went to Croatia for a month,” Harry says, a laugh bubbling in his voice, “and no one told me. I thought I just kept missing them at breakfast.”

“Oh my God,” Louis laughs. “Really?”

“It’s the God’s honest truth,” Harry insists, holding up a hand as if to swear it.

They huddle together by the fire, and Louis tells Harry more stories about the lengths his mom goes to in order to avoid his dad, and how she ends up avoiding him in the process. The party continues around them, and after a while Harry finally gets up to get a drink. He cracks open a can of beer on his way back from the coolers, bumping into Luke and spilling about half of it on him. Louis hides his laugh behind his hand as Luke’s date dries him off with a beach towel. He almost never gets to see Luke get any karma. There’s a twinkle in Harry’s eye when he sits back down next to Louis, and Louis starts to suspect that Harry spilled the beer on purpose, but then Luke starts cheering at his phone, distracting him.

I’ll tag @crinkle-eyed-boo @allwaswell16 @louandhazaf @kingsofeverything @haztobegood @beelou @wabadabadaba @neondiamond

#my apologies to hot luke in this fic!!!!#an american tragedy au

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asimplearchivist · 1 year

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ℂℍ. 𝕀 — 𝕀𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝔹𝕒𝕤𝕜𝕖𝕥

𝐂𝐇. 𝐈 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓] AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST summary 🗡 ⤏ cade yeager’s older sister never knows what she’ll find in their barn upon returning from her routine antiquing trips—the submission box at the driveway is often littered with junk of all kinds that they try to fix for a living. ⤏ you just never would have expected for him to take on the task of repairing a cybertronian. pairing 🗡 bayverse!optimus prime/yeager!reader word count 🗡 8.7k a/n 🗡⤏ i've been cleaning out my docs drafts debating on whether to upload certain unfinished works, seeing as some of them are partially complete (like this one). this was going to be a longfic that followed the events of aoe and would go on to tlk, but i lost steam for it pretty early on. there are a few more snippets that wouldn't stand well enough on their own to be posted, but i thought these three chapters would express the vibes i was attempting to convey. ⤏ this is an aoe ua where lucas didn't call the government about optimus right away, cemetery wind didn't find him immediately, and cade has an older sister by one year. the reader is ex-military and protective by nature, and not one to be trifled with - especially in regards to her family, as she would gladly sacrifice her life for theirs. she suffers from a psychosomatic limp in her right leg after sustaining a gunshot to her left shoulder while serving in afghanistan years prior. still suffering from ptsd, she's turned to exercise and bodybuilding as an outlet. she spends her time and makes money restoring antiques and furniture and occasionally collaborating with cade on his robotics. ⤏ this is kind of silly looking back on it (also not as well written, seeing as i created it back in 2017 [oh my god that was six years ago]), but i've promised myself i would try to work against my internal criticism and not cringe at something i spent a lot of time and love to make. i saw a few posts on tumblr floating around about posting old drafts and i thought i might do that with this, among others, so keep your eyes peeled for those.⤏ let me know if you see any glaring grammatical mistakes/spelling errors i missed, but more importantly, please enjoy this gem of my past! :)🗡 MASTERPOST 🗡 🗡 ⤏ NEXT CHAPTER 🗡

Tessa woke dreamily, a pleasantly warm haze dampening her thoughts as she blinked the sleep from her eyes. Shimmering sunlight streamed in through the window, lighting up her room and causing motes of dust floating in the air to gleam like tiny flecks of gold. She stretched slowly, enjoying the feeling of tension releasing in her muscles. She smiled when she remembered that finals were over. She was free. (Until she went to college, that is. If she went to college.)

Though with the bliss of waking up to a quiet morning, she realized that it was actually quite out of place. It was suspiciously quiet. There wasn't any shouting from the landlord trying to sell the house again, or explosions coming from the barn. It was awfully peaceful, and Tessa really didn't know how to feel about it. It was only when she closed her eyes in contemplation of dozing off again that she remembered.

They had a transformer in the barn.

"Dad," she groaned, rubbing at her face and sitting up slowly.

A week had passed since Cade Yeager had unknowingly brought home a wanted, illegal alien (a literal alien, funnily enough) in an attempt to dismantle it for salable parts. But of course - of course it had to have been her dad. It couldn't have been anyone else's, because that's just what her life was: hectic and chock-full of crazy shit. So why not add housing an Autobot to the list?

She still couldn't believe her dad had managed to talk both her and Lucas down from making a call to the government about their accidental find. She didn't know how he did it - but he'd kept haggling and nagging and pushing until they'd acquiesced, and now they had a half-destroyed thirty-foot robot living in their barn.

Tessa couldn't say that she disliked Optimus, however - on the contrary, she was rather intrigued by him. He was very benevolent and soft-spoken (only did this show after their initial scare - Lucas wouldn't step close to the 'Bot for a solid two days afterward), and his voice never failed to soothe her with its otherworldly rumble. He was quiet, though, and didn't talk much - at least around her. Her dad said that he spoke with him very frequently, usually while he was repairing or constructing a makeshift part for the injured Autobot, and that entailed them being alone.

Cade had told her, the first night after he’d convinced her and Lucas not to call in the government, that he intended to let Optimus stay there for as long as he needed - until Cade could get him back into fighting shape, at the very least. It was wrong, what the government was doing to the Autobots - hunting them down like animals - and Cade sympathized greatly. Tessa admitted that she did, too, now that she knew the government wasn't actually targeting just Decepticons, but she was scared of the repercussions that it could potentially have on her family. Her father had assured her that nothing was going to happen to them, and that helping Optimus was the best thing that they could do right then. And he was already getting better info on robotics, just by looking at the 'Bot's inner mechanisms - not to mention that the Cybertronian made the continuous effort to answer any sort of question that Cade asked him. It was benefiting them already, he'd said. Tessa had sighed softly, pushing the tray of already lukewarm dinner into her father's hands before returning to the safety of their room.

Needless to say, Tessa made sure to give them both ample space. She would rather not have another missile ricochet through the house.

Tessa yawned, stood, and trudged into her bathroom, already resigning herself to cooking breakfast (again). She figured that the typical eggs and bacon would suffice - she just sincerely hoped that her dad hadn't pulled another all-nighter. Optimus had urged the stubborn human male to rest accordingly before, so maybe he'd done the same the previous night. She'd noticed that her dad was starting to get dark circles under his eyes.

After taking a soothingly hot shower and dressing for the day, she wandered downstairs and into the kitchen. It was methodical, routine, how she went about cooking the eggs and frying the bacon to her dad’s taste. Soon the savory smells were wafting from the stove, and when she heard the dull thumps of heavy, uneven footsteps descending the staircase she breathed out a sigh of relief. Cade shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing at his eyes and tugging the hem of his shirt down over his stomach. His hair was mussed, his movements stiff, and Tessa lamented her lack of foresight in not setting up the coffee pot beforehand.

"Morning, Dad," she said, flipping the bacon as it sizzled and hissed up at her. He mumbled something that could have potentially been English, trudging over to the fridge to pop the door open and draw a glass bottle of soda from its depths. He twisted the cap off, tossing it haphazardly towards the trashcan tucked into the corner of the kitchen (and effectively missing it by a long shot) before sinking into the chair already pulled out from beneath the table. His head fell into his hand, his shoulders slumping as he mumbled under his breath.

He was tired.

"How late did you stay up last night?" she asked him, transferring the now crisp bacon over onto the plate already loaded with heavily salted and peppered eggs. She moved over to him, setting it down in front of him before shuffling back to grab him a fork from the drawer.

Cade, obviously still submerged in a half-catatonic state, made the mistake of plucking up a strip of bacon. He jolted up, hissing and cussing as he swiped his fingertips against his pajama pants. Tessa gave him a scolding look, handing him a fork.

Cade sighed, taking it. "Eleven...?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, cocking her hip and planting a fist above it.

He averted his gaze guiltily, looking entirely like the man-child he was. "...Maybe closer to two. Or three. Or was it three thirty...?"

"Dad," she groaned, tugging at her hair in frustration. "Nothing good is going to come out of this if you work yourself into the ground! Optimus doesn't need to be repaired in the span of four nights-"

"Tessa - honey, you don't understand!" he interjected, squinting against the sunlight streaming in from the window. "I've already been able to make three of my inventions work because of him! He's helping me build these things, and the sooner I can sell them, the sooner we can get some money rolling in."

The young blonde opened her mouth to argue further, but the genuine look in her father's eyes made her stop short. She hesitated, and he took the opportunity to stand and grasp her arms gently, drawing her into a tight, reassuring hug. She resisted but for a few seconds before sighing and giving in, wrapping her arms around him and breathing in the familiar scent of mechanical grease and sweat. Memories lingered in the back of her consciousness. This was her father, what embodied him. Comfort and grease.

How lovely.

"Tess, baby," he murmured into her hair, brushing his fingers through it slowly, "I promise this will turn out okay. Just give me a little time. Optimus is genuinely grateful for what we're doing for him, and he's trying to repay us in any way that he can." He squeezed her affectionately. "We'll get out of this soon. Everything will go back to normal."

"I sincerely doubt that," she mumbled into his shirt, though secretly she was soothed by his words. He laughed softly, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head before they both drew away from each other. Cade returned to his seat, digging into his cooling breakfast while Tessa moved over to the coffee pot to get a fresh brew going. She knew he was going to need it, if he was going to function at all that day.

"Did Lucas get those parts you need?" Tessa asked, popping the top off of the coffee maker before grimacing. She hadn't made coffee in a week, how old were these grounds? Yuck.

"Yeah. Most of them," Cade said through a mouthful of eggs. Tessa sighed, but did not scold him. "I'll have to order some. If I can fix up that old tape recorder, I've got a buyer on Ebay. Fifty bucks."

"Hmm." Tessa tossed the old filter out, disposing the forgotten bottle cap while she was at it. She opened up the cabinet, straining on her tiptoes to reach the filters and grounds. Curse her short genes.

"Optimus says that a lot of his self-regenerating systems have kicked in now that he's out of emergency stasis-lock. Whatever that means." Cade swallowed before shoving a wad of bacon into his mouth. "But he's still looking pretty rough. I think he needs a good wash."

"But won't that make him more obvious?" she asked, filling the pot up in the sink and pouring it into the tank. "Won't the government be looking for his old paintjob? Maybe we should paint him a different color or something."

"He mentioned that he changed his vehicle mode while on the run from that ambush," he said. "Combine that with all the rust he's got, I don't think he'll be easily identifiable for a while. But, still..." He polished off the soda before sighing. "I feel bad for him. He seems to be in a lot of discomfort, and I'm pretty sure he's still in pain. He's cooped up in that barn, having to crouch or sit all the time. The guy can't even step outside for fear of satellites seeing him..."

"Maybe he can go out at night," she suggested, sympathizing greatly. Texas heat sucked sometimes, and some days in the summer you couldn't even step outside for fear of suffocating on contact. "He can stretch his legs a bit without so much fear of being seen."

Cade visibly brightened. "Good idea. I didn't think of that."

Probably because you're just running on fumes, Tessa thought wryly as she flicked on the coffee pot.

"In any case," she said, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the counter. She jabbed a finger at him, giving him a firm (and faintly pleading) look. "I want you in bed before midnight tonight."

Cade grinned around his fork, his eyes glittering with faint amusement. "I'll try," he said, swallowing, "but I can't make any promises."

"I'll make Optimus lock you out of the barn," she warned, knowing full well that the thirty-foot mech would most definitely agree to it. They both knew it. "Just...try, okay? Or I'll spike your dinner with melatonin, too."

Cade shuddered, cringing. "Okay, okay, chill," he said, picking up the last strip of bacon before standing with his plate and wandering over to the sink. "I'll go to sleep at midnight."

"Before midnight," she pressed.

"Before midnight," he acquiesced.

Cade washed off the plate, chewing studiously on the bacon like a tobacco addict while Tessa stepped over to the fridge and unraveled the loaf of bread. She dropped two slices into the toaster when Cade's cell phone began to ring.

He growled softly, flicking the faucet off before fumbling with his pajama pants. "It had better not be that damn..." He drew out the phone from his pocket, squinting at the name before the blood drained from his face.

Tessa's face creased in immediate concern. "What? Who is it?"

Cade's trembling thumb slid across the screen before he lifted it to his ear. "Heeyyy, sis..."

Tessa felt her blood run cold, a thrum of nervousness welling up in her stomach. Cade cast her an anxious glance before rubbing at the back of his head. "I'm fine. Tessa's fine...wait, you found a what? That's awesome!"

His enthusiasm was short-lived, as it died just as quickly as it had come when Tessa gave him a sour, pointed look. "Uh, yeah...Tessa finished up her finals. Yeah. No, I haven't finished that...you found a part for it? Nice." He fidgeted where he stood, leaning against the counter and rubbing at his mouth. "Listen, we've, uh...I made a big buy here a few days ago...no, it wasn't...okay. I, uh..." He grimaced, his teeth bared as he ran his fingers through his hair. "How long's it going to be 'til you get here?" He paused, listening intently, before the barest iota of relief relaxed the muscles in his shoulders. "Okay. This evening? Later? All right...yeah, see you then. Love you, too. Bye."

The second he lowered the phone from his ear and ended the call, he let out a prolonged, hissing curse through his teeth. Tessa worried her lower lip between her teeth, waiting for the ball to drop. Cade sank back against the cabinetry, his head hitting the upper section with a dull thunk. "We're screwed. I completely forgot about..." He shook his head slowly. "She's coming back tonight, maybe around seven. We've got to hide Optimus somehow."

Tessa stared at him incredulously. "How? He's a thirty-foot robot!" she hissed at him. "She practically lives in the barn, and that's the only place he can hide! She'll sniff him out in minutes!"

"I know that," Cade pressed, shoving the phone back into his pocket so he could scrape his hands down his face. "But she'll kill me when she finds out-"

"What, that you accidentally bought a literal illegal alien and now you’re trying to fix him?!" she cried exasperatedly. "Of course she's going to kill you!"

"We can't tell her," he insisted. "She's ex-military. Who knows how she'll react when she finds out we've got a Cybertronian in the barn."

"We can't keep it from her," she protested. "Even if we do manage to hide him at first, she'll find him eventually. She spends as much time in there as you do, if not more - which is stupid," she muttered. "And you'll have to continue repairs on him eventually."

Cade sighed resignedly, dropping his face into his hands. "At least make spaghetti for her," he mumbled, voice muffled. "The most we can do is butter her up before we tell her. I...I need at least tonight, so I can think about how I'm going to tell her."

Tessa stared at him for a long moment, but the tense silence that threatened to fall was broken by the toaster popping. At least that was one device in the house that Cade hadn't tampered with.

"Don't worry about it," Tessa told him, trying to offer some relief to his nervousness. "I'm sure once you explain everything to her, she'll understand. Like you said, he's helping out a lot with your robotics, so it's not a completely fruitless endeavor. And, once he's fixed up and leaves, we can call the government and point them in the opposite direction. That way we'll get the money but we'll throw them off his trail."

Cade looked up at her, a slow smile tugging the corners of his mouth apart. "I love you," he cooed. "You're smart like your mother."

Tessa flushed, turning to she could both pluck her toast out of the toaster and hide the smile that split her face in two.

It turned out to be a terribly hot day, as was typical of an early Texas summer. The only respite against the blazing sun was the industrial-sized fan humming near the barn door and the tin roofing reflecting most of the sun's oppressive heat. Sunlight streamed in from between the wood paneling and the opened loft window, providing enough illumination to cast dark shadows against the interior of the barn not under its direct assault. But, despite the dust and rust and grime clinging to his plating, the few unmarred spots of Optimus' armor gleamed.

Cade swiped an arm over his forehead, the beads of sweat and friction serving to wipe away at least some of the grime that had collected there. He had half the mind to take off his shirt, soaked and sticking to him in all the wrong places. He felt about as dirty as he probably looked. Even still, he doubted that Optimus would appreciate seeing a half-naked human - especially a half-naked human that was as dirty and unkempt as Cade knew he was. Or maybe the mech wouldn't care at all. Either way, he wasn't going to risk it, particularly since he was working with hot metal. He'd experienced the repercussions of that before and it had been no bueno.

Hefting the heavy-weighted hammer and setting the rounded metal casing against the molding sphere, he tapped out an angle that had been too sharp. The shift and scrape of metal on concrete almost made him flinch, but the movement in his peripheral reminded him of the barn's other occupant. Optimus was clearly uncomfortable, hunched over and grimacing every time he jostled one of the chains hanging from the ceiling or bumped against the scaffolding Cade had set up so he could reach his chassis. It had struck Cade how clearly he could read the mech's expressions - he was certainly human-like, despite the vastly differing components that made up the Cybertronian's faceplate.

"You took a hell of a hit, you know," he said, squinting at the casing with a merciless eye before wandering over to the standing cutting torch. "The missile just missed your power source."

The massive mech blinked, tilting his helm slightly, before he glanced down to the exposed internal workings within his chassis. His spark flickered erratically, casting an eerie glow against the dim shadows within the barn. "We call it a spark," he responded softly. "It contains our life force...and our memories."

Cade stilled, staring up at him in surprise. He hadn't thought... "Yeah...we call it a soul."

Optimus ex-vented slowly, his optics flicking away. He absently scratched at part of his pectoral plating, rolling his shoulders slowly. Cade inwardly winced at the metallic grating noise, trying to remember if he had some car grease. Yeah...add that to the growing list of things he was going to have to fix.

God, this guy was a mess.

Optimus grimaced suddenly, glancing down at his armor and plucking at a sizable shell casing embedded in the rusted, peeling metal. He tugged it free, staring down at it rather apathetically before flicking it away. Cade heard it bounce off the side of something somewhere to his right with a sharp cling. "Cade..." The Autobot hesitated, blinking as his optics shuttered, making the mechanic wonder if it indicated deep thought. "...why are you willing to help me?"

Cade paused, fiddling with the nozzle of the blow torch. "I guess maybe because you trust me to," he mused, leaning back as the torch roared to life and illuminated everything around him in a flaring orange glow. He quickly popped the welding mask down over his face, adjusting his grip on the round casing before bathing it in the spurting flame. Optimus watched his actions in rapt attention, seeming to absorb the human's reply.

When the metal was glowing as orange as the flames that were heating it, Cade shut off the torch and trotted back over to the ball bearing before pounding out more angles. He eyed it one last time before trotting over to the barrel of oil he'd had for years, dipping it in gingerly and being wary of the flames that flared and licked up at his hands. He then doused it in the barrel of water he'd set up next to it, turning his face away from the steam that hissed and shot up into the air. When he lifted the mask again to admire his handiwork, Optimus leaned over slightly as though to look at it, too.

"It look okay?" Cade asked while popping the mask back up onto his head, turning and walking up to the massive 'Bot so he could inspect it. The Prime nodded and reached out with an open servo, taking the casing before slowly and carefully fitting it around the flickering blue light within the depths of his chassis. He let out a heavy gush of hot air that ruffled Cade's oily hair, not quite a sigh of what must've been relief but probably the closest thing he could come to it.

"Thank you, Cade," he murmured sincerely. His shoulders slumped as though he finally had the chance to relax. Cade supposed he would, too, had the physical manifestation of his soul been so exposed for so long - and around strangers, no less.

Around strangers who were the same species as those who had made him wary of them in the first place.

"Hey, Optimus," Cade began tentatively, drawing out his syllables as he tried to conjure up the right words to inform the Autobot of their growing predicament. He didn't really know how he was going to react. "I've...got some good news and some bad news."

This seemed to set the mech on his guard, as his shoulders drew up again subtly with a tenseness that Cade suddenly regretted inciting in him. His optics shuttered, narrowed, and focused wholly on Cade, quiet and waiting. Of course, the moment he'd finally had a chance to relax, Cade had to go and ruin it.

The inventor sighed, pulling the mask from his head and rubbing at his eyes with his free hand. "Good news is my sister is coming back." He looked back up to Optimus. "The bad news is that my sister's coming back."

Optimus shifted restlessly, optics flickering rapidly between extreme dimness and flaring brightness. "Is she one that could pose potential danger?"

"Not really - at least, I don't think so," Cade added hurriedly. "I just...I don't know how she's going to react to...this." He gestured towards Optimus vaguely, for lack of a better word. Or any word, for that matter. "She's ex-military, and I know you guys worked with them for a long time. I don't think she ever worked with the Autobots, though, since she was discharged before the first attack in Qatar, but..."

Optimus stilled, tilting his helm slightly. "Do you wish me to tell her the circumstances of how I arrived here?"

"No - no, it's fine," Cade responded, "I can handle it. I've just...I've been trying to figure out how to tell her."

"Tell her the truth," Optimus said simply, gently. "That is was an accident. It was most definitely not your fault." He paused. "If she should wish me to leave, then I will be on my way. I do not wish to cause dissonance within your family."

It's a bit late for that, he thought wryly, but didn't voice it. "Optimus, we've been through this - I want to help you. I want to help you get back on your feet, if nothing else - it's just not fair how these guys are chasing you around like you're some wild dog." He frowned, anger beginning to simmer low in his gut. "I think she'll understand."

...At least, I hope she will.

Dear God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, it was good to be home.

You pulled off of the interstate onto the highway branching off and directing you closer to your destination. You hummed softly along with the radio playing just over the rumble of your tires rolling over the pavement. Your arm was probably well sunburned by this point, having laid across the open windowsill for five days straight. The wind tugged at your tightly-bound hair, warm and dry as the sun brushed the edge of the horizon. The scent of flat, grassy plains - the scent of home - had you finally, finally relaxed after your trip.

Finding fixer-uppers for Cade and yourself to restore proved to be something you'd long ago gotten into the habit of doing - every three weeks you'd pack up your truck and trailer and drive around your proud home state in search of potential quarry. Scholarship opportunities for Tessa, as well as acceptable colleges, had recently been added to your list. None particularly met your standard, but...it was your niece in question, and you had always been protective of Tessa. Perhaps more so than Cade, in your mind. Maybe it was a Yeager trait.

You breathed out a sigh as you slipped your sunglasses off the top of your head and over your eyes. The sunset was certainly a sight - vivid oranges and reds melting together like a forge, blazing just as hot. You couldn't wait to take a long, hot shower and sleep in your own bed - cheap inns and motels be damned to the seventh circle of Dante's hell, honestly.

Paris, Texas welcomed you soon enough. There were a few people lingering in the streets or stores, but it was quiet for the most part. You waved towards a few acquaintances as you drove by, feeling relieved excitement bubbling up in your stomach as you drew closer and closer to home. You couldn't wait to work with Cade on some of the things you'd found in your brief travel. You'd even bought a couple of things for Tessa that you could freshen up and give her for her college dorm as a going-away present.

God, you were going to miss her. But...it would be nice to have the house to Cade and yourself again. Just like the good old days.

A flush of warm contentment washed over you when you pulled onto the familiar old farm road, dust swelling up from your tires and rising up in a thick cloud behind your trailer. You slowed down as you approached the rickety old mailbox and the metal crate welded beneath it, turning in slowly. You stopped when you saw that the electrical lines were crossed.

Oh, boy...maybe you shouldn't have gone on this last trip.

It seemed that your arrival was well anticipated. The robotic mut you and Cade had built what seemed to be forever ago was already whirling around in circles, yapping on and on about voice recognition and dialing nine-one-one. You could've sworn you'd fixed that. Cade was standing on the front porch, arms folded over his chest and fingers drumming against his arm.

He was nervous. What the hell did he do this time?

Parking and disengaging the engine, you grabbed your duffel and purse out of the passenger's seat before sliding out of the truck. Cade stepped down from the porch to take them, to which you waved him off and instead pulled him into a tight hug. The strong, familiar scent of motor oil and grease filled your nose. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," he said, arms resting on your back. He rested his cheek against the crown of your head, pressing a light kiss to your temple. "Drive back was okay?"

"Yeah. Didn't shoot anyone."

"Always a good thing." He pulled back, grinning and grasping your arms gently. "Tessa made spaghetti."

Your hunger, now making itself apparent in the way your stomach twisted and growled irritably, predominated your rising suspicion. "Praise God. I've had enough McDonald's to last me three lifetimes."

Your brother's warm laugh, more relaxed than his tense body language had been moments before, followed you into the house as you both went inside. The hearty smell of the Yeager family spaghetti sauce filled your nostrils and your mouth watered immediately, the tension draining from your limbs as you cast a glance back at Cade. "Let me go put this up real quick," you told him, trotting up the stairs. You heard him acknowledge you with a grunt as he turned into the kitchen.

The upper floor was dark and quiet, and it allowed you to breathe in the scent of home as you made a beeline for your room. You entered, tossing both bags onto your bed and making a flying trip to the bathroom to relieve yourself. You made quick work of washing your hands, simply wiping off the warm water on your jeans as you descended the stairs. You heard Cade's voice before you got to the doorway leading to the kitchen, the urgent, low tones initially obscuring Tessa's lighter whispers. Your suspicion returned, but you couldn't make out what they were saying because of the music playing softly from the radio.

You really hoped they hadn't broken something they shouldn't have. Didn't matter if it was a law or piece of equipment - if Lucas had been messing with your punching bag again, you'd be wringing his skinny little neck soon enough.

You made a show of yawning, stretching your arms over your head as you clomped around the corner. Cade turned to you, holding a pitcher of tea in one hand and a glass of ice in the other.

"I'm assuming you wanted tea," he said.

"Yeah, that's fine," you said, taking the glass after he filled it and sitting at the table. Tessa was distributing spaghetti on three different plates, as well as corn and salad. She set it in front of you with a swift one-armed hug around your shoulders, which you readily returned. "Heard about your finals. Good job, kiddo."

"Thanks!" she said, smiling and practically oozing pride in light of your praise. She meandered over to the oven, popping it open and grabbing an oven mitt to draw out a tray of garlic bread. "Want one?"

"Yes, please," you breathed, plucking one from the tray when she proffered it to you before dropping it on the edge of your plate to save your fingertips from the hot sting.

Cade plopped down in the seat across from you, reclining back and exhaling deeply. He rubbed at the dark circles beneath his eyes. You squinted at him, about to ask if he had been staying up late again, when Tessa, too, sat to your left.

"Pray?" she said, glancing between the two of you. You nodded, and all three of you bowed your heads so you could utter a brief prayer of thanks. Afterwards, you scooped a generous forkful of spaghetti into your mouth, practically melting in your chair as the warmth and flavor blossomed over your tongue.

"Oh my god, Tessa, never change," you told her firmly after swallowing. She flushed, hiding her smile behind her glass as she sipped lightly.

"How was the trip?" Cade asked, tearing the slice of garlic bread apart and stuffing a chunk past his lips.

"Good, for the most part," you said, reaching for the salad dressing to drizzle it over the chopped lettuce and tomatoes. "Got a few things that I can fix up pretty quick. Joe Anderson's been nagging me for a table for three months now. I think it's Amy's birthday soon and he's looking for something to give her."

Cade breathed out a sigh of relief. "I've almost got a couple of doohickeys fixed. Got a couple of buyers on Ebay. I think I'll be able to pay the electric bill with them."

You looked up at him, your chewing slowing to a stop. "Is that why we're borrowing the neighbor's electricity?"

Both Cade and Tessa stilled, exchanging a hesitant glance. The nervousness in the air was palpable.

"Is that what's going on?" you asked, voice simultaneously firm yet gentle. "You've been acting weird. Were you not wanting to tell me?"

You didn't miss the very pointed look that Tessa directed at her father.

"I thought I shouldn't have gone on this trip," you muttered. "I'll try to get that table done tomorrow. The sooner we can pay it, the better."

Cade shifted uncomfortably in his seat, rubbing at his neck anxiously. "That's...not what I wanted to tell you."

You raised a brow. "Is it about that 'big buy' you made?"

"I...yes," he replied hesitantly. "It's a truck."

You blinked. "A truck."

"Yes - an old truck. A semi. A cabover. I was planning on dismantling the engine for parts to sell."

"Planning on it?" you asked curiously.

"Yeah. I...ran into some...trouble with it." He straightened, fiddled with his fork. "You'll have to see it for yourself."

"If all you needed was help on it, all you had to do was ask," you told him gently. "But we'll start on that in the morning. I'm tired. You look tired - have you been staying up late again?"

He flushed, opened his mouth perhaps to protest, but Tessa interjected with a flat expression and a strong nod.

"Sleep," you pressed firmly, "and we'll tackle it when we're both fresh. Comprende?"

"Sí," he muttered, casting his eyes downward.

"Good." You smiled, half affectionate and half exasperated. "I'll cuddle you aggressively if you don't."

"Resistance is futile," Tessa chimed in, spearing a chunk of lettuce with her fork.

You reached over and squeezed her arm with a grin, directing it at Cade. He finally met your eyes, and after a long moment he returned it, looking as tired as you'd ever seen him.

You had once been a very deep sleeper. When you were younger, back when Cade was smaller than you, he always thought something was wrong whenever he would get up in the mornings and fail to rouse you unless he were to practically scream in your ear. You slept through thunderstorms and fireworks alike, never once stirring from your oft dreamless slumber. Very rarely did you dream, even rarer did you suffer from nightmares.

Unfortunately, that was a long time ago.

After graduating from high school and enlisting your services in the marine corps, you'd quickly learned that sleeping deeply was not an asset useful to a soldier. Countless times of interrupted rest trained you to be instantly alert at the slightest of noises or potential dangers. It had served you well, the night your base in Iraq had been attacked - you'd heard the distant rumble of non-American military engines across the way and you'd saved your troop by waking and warning them just in time to escape your bunker before it was incinerated into smoke and ash.

The ambush had been long and violent. They'd come in under cover of the dunes on the far east side, near a mountain range, and had wreaked havoc on the base, killing many and injuring more. Snipers, unfortunately, were present - when you'd gone to rescue your superior officer from a burning quonset, one had nearly managed to blow your left arm out of its socket. It was only by God's grace that your squadron's medic had gotten to you in time to staunch the bleeding. Your arm barely survived, and as a result of some psychological bullshit, you now had a rather inconvenient limp in the opposite leg. Unnoticeable to you (and your family) now that you've all gotten accustomed to it and have dealt with it long enough that it wasn't as bad as it used to be. Only if you had one of your spells did it act up again.

And by 'spell', it obviously meant a full-blown anxiety attack courtesy of your PTSD, which used to be triggered by anything ranging from the sound of someone dropping a pen to having night terrors. The night terrors, in themselves, were not particularly bad - you'd gotten used to the images of blood spattered across the sand and the sounds of screams and explosions ringing in your ears, echoing over the rivulets of time and memory. No, it was the aftereffects that you hated; waking in a cold sweat, trembling all over, nausea and lightheadedness threatening to send you over the side of your bed. Over the years, however, you'd gradually recovered - returning home after being medically discharged and falling back into a semi-normal, tamer routine certainly helped. The night terrors and your spells grew fewer and farther between as the years drew on. Having Cade and Tessa as a support system helped majorly, as well.

But, as is the case with everything, there were always exceptions. Sometimes, out of nowhere, you would dream of the ambush - crying out in your sleep as a result and never failing to draw Cade into your bed to wrap you up in a tight, warm embrace. His presence, the sound of his heartbeat and his gentle murmurings and reassurances helped to calm you down, but it still frustrated you every time that it would happen. You thought you were getting better. You thought that you'd forgotten the terror and the pain. But revisitations of it were inevitable.

Tonight, it would seem, would be one of those nights.

The air was cold. The sand was cold. Your heart, heavy and lodged in your throat, was thumping painfully as you crouched low and wide-eyed in a grenade-blown pit, avoiding crossfire and the sight of the enemy. You were trembling, deep and wholesome panic thrumming through your entire body as you tried to think, tried to comprehend what was happening, tried to articulate what you needed to do. A distant murmur of sentimentality in the back of your mind told you that you should go back to your bunker, try to salvage what few belongings you were permitted to have. Shock and the ingrained soldier's sense would not let you.

Gun. You needed your gun. You needed your gun so you could fire back, save others, protect your squadron. Where was it?

In the smoldering remains of your bunker, along with everything else you'd owned.

Another grenade clattered against the smoldering side of the communications center, falling dangerously close to an armored Jeep and rocking it on its wheels with its concussive explosion. You winced, shied away from the flash of fire and shrapnel, and looked wildly, desperately around for an ally, someone you knew, someone you trusted.

"Yeager!"

Your head shot up, eyes focusing in on the medical facility. The chief medic was hunched in the doorway, clutching an IV bag in one hand and its partnering needle in the other as he stared straight at you.

"Merendsen!" he shouted. "Merendsen's trapped in his bunker!"

Now given an order, a purpose, your mind locked onto it with renewed determination. However, when you told your body to move, it did not budge. You shook and shivered, but your limbs would not accept the commands given to them. You heard an unintelligible shout from another point in the camp, closer to the medicinal facility, and the chief medic looked back to you with furrowed brows. "They're readying a mortar! We've got to evacuate!"

To this day, you still don't recall ever getting up. All you remember is no longer laying in the sand, only running headlong through the crossfire and explosions and yelling towards the bunker where your commanding officer dwelled. The building was half collapsed, crackling and hissing with flames that licked against the shadows of light. You stumbled to your knees, digging at the crumbling and charred cement and hoping you wouldn't get hit. You gasped and cursed when you scorched your hand, but you were rewarded when you heard a groan amidst the rubble.

"Sir!" you gasped, trying to find the location of the sound. "Merendsen! Captain Merendsen!"

"Yeager...?" he rasped, and grunted when you shifted a rather large chunk of rock.

"Help me, sir," you panted. "I can't get you out by myself."

He groaned, though whether through pain or delirium you didn't know. You saw his bloodied, swelling fingers poke out from between a gap in the debris. Several painstaking and anxiety-riddled moments slid by, and as soon as his shoulders were visible you grappled for him and tugged him free of the debris. He choked out a curse, blood dripping from his head and hands as you dragged him onto the sand.

"We - we need to evac," he wheezed, glazed eyes taking in the decimation that was once home camp.

"We're working on it, sir," you managed, using a sizable chunk of concrete for cover as you tried to plot the best route to the medical facility. There was heavy fire being exchanged through the main route, several of your comrades hollering and bleeding while trying to hurl back as much as was being given to them. None noticed your predicament.

The medical facility. If you could get him there, he'd be safe until everyone got organized. It was the most well-protected place in camp (or what used to be the camp).

"Can you walk?" you hollered above the blast of fire swelling around a Jeep that had been turned over on the edge of camp.

"I'm fine!" he shouted back, gritting his teeth and trying to get his legs beneath him. His pupils were blown. He had a concussion. "Let's move! We need to get out of here!"

You hauled his arm around your neck, drawing his weight into your side and hefting both yourself and him to your feet. You huffed and strained beneath the extra weight, eyes stinging as sweat and dirt and smoke blurred your vision.

It was painstaking, bobbing and weaving through debris and smoke for cover. Your comrades made way for you, giving you cover-fire when crossing areas where you were plainly visible. Your commanding officer was grunting and cursing due to pain, trying his best to support his weight despite the fact that his leg was bent at a rather unnatural angle.

You rounded the corner, spotting the welcoming entryway to the medical bunker, and somewhere in the back of your conscious mind you recognized it - recognized this moment - and began to dread despite not being able to change the events of the past. All you registered was the distant flicker of red right before Merendsen was hollering in your ear. Your mind and focus clicked into place in that instant - sniper. Deeply ingrained instinct kicked in and you threw your weight to the side, shoving your captain into the sand as pain unfathomable exploded in your uncovered shoulder.

The next thing you knew was Merenden's face over yours, mouth moving but no sound coming forth. You realized you couldn't hear - not just him, but everything else. Your ears were ringing, body cold and frozen. Your heartbeat, hot and painful, throbbed in your shoulder (or, in retrospect, what was left of it).

Turning your head in an attempt to gain your bearings, you saw the sickening color of scarlet staining the sand beneath you, splattered over Merendsen's pinched face as he hunched over you protectively. He dug his palms into your shoulder, eliciting a weak, breathless gasp as pain bloomed across the forefront of your psyche. You felt the squish of blood against your torn and rent flesh. Your vision flickered, the dark draw of unconsciousness tugging at the edges of your consciousness. You were suddenly tired. Tired, and dazed, and hurting.

"...eager! Yeager! Stay with me, soldier! Don't you dare give up on your family!"

You blinked slowly, eyes listlessly returning to Merendsen's. His face was twisted into a pained, worried grimace.

"You've got a niece to go home to!" he shouted above the din, and you vaguely recognized the shift of sand as someone else skidded to a stop beside your head. The chief medic's face, illuminated by fire, swam on the side of your vision as though submerged in water. "Your brother needs you! Your family needs you!" Merendsen lifted his hands away from your shoulder so the medic could replace them, and your captain moved to grip your limp, trembling hand with his own. "Don't let go, soldier - that's an order!"

You remembered smiling, thanking him with a broken and soft and terrified voice. Then you remembered no more.

You remembered the pain, and its clawed grip upon your rapidly fluttering heart, and that was the first thing you felt when you jolted awake - except for the fact that there was no pain, and no slick, stickiness of blood soaking your shoulder and the cold sand beneath it. Your heart was still beating, though, thumping in your temples and throat and making quite the impression of itself on the inside of your chest cavity.

You blinked and sat up slowly, sucking in several lungfuls of cool, clear air. Your brain began to reboot slowly, gradually swimming out of the dark depths it had submersed itself in. You exhaled shakily, your hand going to your left shoulder. A pang of remembered agony tingled through the damaged nerve endings. Damn phantom pains.

Several tense, quiet moments passed. You breathed, focused on your heartbeat, closed your eyes against the vestiges of fear and shock. Your heart calmed, your body stopped trembling. You brushed your dampened hair away from your neck and grimaced as you registered the sweat clinging to your skin. Your eyes settled on the band of moonlight shining through your opened window, allowing the pleasant night air passage. A cursory glance towards your alarm clock assured you that yes, it was far too early to be awake.

4:21. Great.

Your eyes adjusted slowly, and you frowned when you saw your bedroom door still secured tightly shut, realizing your brother's warm presence wasn't currently wrapped around yours.

Cade hadn't come. He always came. He always knew. Where was he?

The distant clatter of metal against wood caused you to freeze. Your senses focused in on the sound, ears straining to hear anything else. Instead, dead silence settled over the outside world once more.

Your hand slipped silently under your pillow, the familiar bite of cold metal a comfortable weight in your hand as you settled your fingers around the grip and drew it out into open air. Your pistol gleamed in the moonlight as you slid your legs off the bed and slowly eased your weight into your feet. The floor did not creak nor groan as you crept to your window, peering around the edge to scrutinize the yard below.

No signs of life, nor disturbances. All was quiet.

Your eyes narrowed, and you made your way into the hall to check on your brood. Tessa was asleep beneath her sheets, hair strewn out over the pillow beneath her head. You closed the door silently. Cade, too, was in bed (thankfully), snoring and sprawled out over his mattress. He was deeply under, you could tell - how much had he been working before you'd returned?

Assured that they were safe, you padded down the stairs and made your way to the back door, grabbing a flashlight on your way by and stealing outside without a sound. You kept to the shadows, prowling towards the barn warily. Though every fiber in your body was tensed and focused on making your approach undetectable, your mind was buzzing. Who would be in your barn at this time of the night? Your first thought went to some wayward teenager or young adult looking for a quick buck, but you found that unlikely given you hadn’t heard a vehicle approach. A glance to the field and road beyond your home also proved that fact, as there was not a vehicle in sight. It could've been a raccoon, but you found that unlikely. Maybe something had just fallen over?

Nevertheless, it wouldn't hurt to check. You just really hoped that you wouldn't have to use your gun. You really weren't in the mood to shoot anybody.

Circling around to the back of the barn where the larger door rested, you readjusted your grip on your gun and tucked it behind the barn’s door handle. You braced yourself, taking a steadying breath. In one smooth motion you clicked on your flashlight and raised it level with your head, throwing the massive but relatively light door open before raising your gun to the immediate darkness within. "Whoever the hell you are, raise your hands - and don't make a mistake you'll regret, because I will shoot you!"

Two wide, startled, glowing blue eyes blinked down at you from inside the depths of the barn.

Shocked out of words for a split second, you froze. Then, "What the actual f-"

You had only a moment to register that the eyes belonged to a gargantuan, alien frame. It seemed that it, too, had been stunned by the mutual shock of discovering the other, but not for a moment longer. In that same instant, the gargantuan, alien frame lunged for you.

Screw not being in the mood to shoot somebody.

You raised your pistol and your finger twitched over the trigger, but the unknown figure was faster. A massive hand swiped out at you from the shadows, knocking both the gun from your grip and your entire body off of your own feet. The breath gushed out of you as you made harsh contact with the ground, the jolt stunning and dazing you. You scrabbled for purchase on the dewy grass beneath you as the figure leapt to loom over you, blocking a huge portion of the sky and casting a dark shadow over you. That same massive hand slammed down into the soft soil next to your head, fingers groping for your comparatively tiny body. You rolled away, stuttering out a curse as your hand found purchase on something cold and metal and heavy enough to be used as a weapon. Without thinking (not that you had the capacity, with your mind scattered and adrenaline coursing through your limbs), you found the creature's glowing, narrowed eyes in the dark and chucked the object at its crested head.

The clang of metal meeting metal rang out with the brief flash of sparks right before it was drowned out by a deafening bellow of pain. A disk-like shape fell from the creature's head and you had naught but a second to again roll to safety before it sank into the ground like a blade while your flashlight clattered a few feet away from you, light flickering across the ground. Green fluid spurted freely from the figure's cracked skull, but you were distantly confused to see electrical sparks shooting from the open wound.

Cade's shocked outcry of your name snapped you back into focus. Your head whirled to see him jumping from the front porch, sprinting straight for you and your still growling attacker. The ground shook beneath you and you were startled to hear the unknown figure (danger threat protect) garble out a roughened, pained version of your brother's name before its massive hand made another move to grab you.

"Optimus, no, don't-!"

"Cade, stay back - this human has a gun!"

"What the hell?!" you cried, staggering to your feet and away from the - holy shit, was it-?

Was it a transformer?

"Cade, get back!" you shouted, your eyes now finding the metallic sheen gleaming off the figure's silhouette. "Get back, get the shotgun!"

"Wait, just - wait a second!" Cade sounded panicked, worried, though you realized with terror he was running for the transformer and not you. "Optimus, wait!"

'Optimus'? Why did that...

The gargantuan figure froze as the human male stopped between it and you, waving his arms frantically and looking as pale as a sheet in the moonlight. "Please, just hang on a second!" He glanced wildly between the both of you, eyes pleading. "Let me explain!"

Both you and the transformer stilled, chests heaving and eyes looking from Cade to the other with suspicion and wariness.

"This is your sister?" the robotic alien rumbled, taking you off guard. It eased onto its haunches, sitting up and allowing the moonlight to illuminate its figure. Rust and peeling paint caught your eye, dust and grime obscuring much of what must've once been shiny metal. Its face was twisted, mouth pinched as it turned its glowing gaze to you. You realized that the disk that had fallen from its head was one of two ear-like arrays with sensor finials. The open wound(?) was still dribbling that same green substance. Blood?

"Yes, Optimus, this-" Cade exhaled heavily, hands and voice shaking with relief as you both stood down. He looked to you, guilt and apprehension forming in his eyes as he gestured towards the mechanical being behind him. "I..."

A short silence settled upon the three of you, tense and anxious. After a beat, you sighed and glanced up at the transformer, leveling it with a pointedly non-aggressive look. You saw the stiffness in its metal-plated shoulders relax minutely, then looked back to Cade only when you were sure the unspoken ceasefire was cemented.

"So..." you deadpanned, a wry, weary quirk forming at the edge of your mouth as you rubbed your sore cranium. "...who put him in your basket?"

#fisara's codices #fanfiction #transformers #bayverse #aoe #transformers: age of extinction #optimus prime #reader insert #optimus prime/reader #mine

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