Tumgik
#the three of them have known him for over a decade
mariacallous · 6 months
Text
It is over and everything is lost. This is the refrain repeated by Armenian families as they take that final step across the border out of their home of Nagorno-Karabakh.
In just a handful of days more than 100,000 people, almost the entire Armenian population of the breakaway enclave, has fled fearing ethnic persecution at the hands of Azerbaijani forces. The world barely registered it. But this astonishing exodus has vanished a self-declared state that thousands have died fighting for and ended a decades-old bloody chapter of history.
On Saturday, along that dusty mountain road to neighbouring Armenia, a few remaining people limp to safety after enduring days in transit.
Among them is the Tsovinar family who appear bundled in a hatchback littered with bullet holes, with seven relatives crushed in the back. Hasratyan, 48, the mother, crumbles into tears as she tries to make sense of her last 48 hours. The thought she cannot banish is that from this moment forward, she will never again be able to visit the grave of her brother killed in a previous bout of fighting.
“He is buried in our village which is now controlled by Azerbaijan. We can never go back,” the mother-of-three says, as her teenage girls sob quietly beside her.
“We have lost our home, and our homeland. It is an erasing of a people. The world kept silent and handed us over”.
She is interrupted by several ambulances racing in the opposite direction towards Nagorno-Karabakh’s main city of Stepanakert, or Khankendi, as it is known by the Azerbaijani forces that now control the streets. Their job is to fetch the few remaining Karabakh Armenians who want to leave and have yet to make it out.
“Those left are the poorest who have no cars, the disabled and elderly who can’t move easily,” a first responder calls at us through the window. “Then we’re told that’s it.”
As the world focused on the United Nations General Assembly, the war in Ukraine and, in the UK, the felling of an iconic Sycamore tree, a decades old war has reignited here unnoticed.
It ultimately heralded the end of Nagorno-Karabakh, a breakaway Armenian region, that is internationally recognised as being part of Azerbaijan but for several decades has enjoyed de facto independence. It has triggered the largest movement of people in the South Caucasus since the collapse of the Soviet Union.
Azerbaijan has vehemently denied instigating ethnic cleansing and has promised to protect Armenians as it works to reintegrate the enclave.
But in the border town of Goris, surrounded by the chaotic arrival of hundreds of refugees, Armenia’s infrastructure minister says Yerevan was now struggling to work out what to do with tens of thousands of displaced and desperate people.
“Simply put this is a modern ethnic cleansing that has been permitted through the guilty silence of the world,” minister Gnel Sanosyan tells The Independent, as four new busses of fleeing families arrive behind him.
“This is a global shame, a shame for the world. We need the international community to step up and step up now.”
The divisions in this part of the world have their roots in centuries-old conflict but the latest iterations of bitter bloodshed erupted during the collapse of the Soviet Union. The Karabakh Armenians, who are in the majority in the enclave, demanded the right to autonomy over the 4,400 square kilometre rolling mountainous region that has its own history and dialect. In the early 1990s they won a bloody war that uprooted Azerbaijanis, building a de facto state that wasn’t internationally unrecognised.
That is until in 2020. Azerbaijan, backed by Turkey, launched a military offensive and took back swathes of territory in a six-week conflict that killed thousands of soldiers and civilians. Russia, which originally supported Armenia but in recent years has grown into a colder ally, brokered a fragile truce and deployed peacekeepers.
But Moscow failed to stop Baku in December, enforcing a 10-month blockade on Nagorno-Karabakh, strangling food, fuel, electricity and water supplies. Then, the international community stood by as Azerbaijan launched a 24-hour military blitz that proved too much for Armenian separatist forces. Outgunned, outnumbered and weakened by the blockade, they agreed to lay down their weapons.
For 30 years the Karabakh authorities had survived pressure from international powerhouses to give up statehood or at least downgrade their aspirations for Nagorno-Karabakh. For 30 years peace plans brokered by countries across the world were tabled and shelved.
And then in a week all hope vanished and the self-declared government agreed to dissolve.
Fearing further shelling and then violent reprisals, as news broke several Karabakh officials including former ministers and separatist commanders, had been arrested by Azerbaijani security forces, people flooded over the border.
At the political level there are discussions about “reintegration” and “peace” but with so few left in Nagorno-Karabakh any process would now be futile.
And so now, sleeping in tents on the floors of hotels, restaurants and sometimes the streets of border towns, shellshocked families, with a handful of belongings, are trying to piece their lives together.
Among them is Vardan Tadevosyan, Nagorno-Karabakh’s minister of health until the government was effectively dissolved on Thursday. He spent the night camping on the floor of a hotel, and carries only the clothes he is wearing. Exhausted he says he had “no idea what the future brings”.
“For 25 years I have built a rehabilitation centre for people with physical disabilities I had to leave it all behind. You don’t know how many people are calling me for support,” he says as his phone ringed incessantly in the background throughout the interview.
“We all left everything behind. I am very depressed,” he repeats, swallowing the sentence with a sigh.
Next to him Artemis, 58, a kindergarten coordinator who has spent 30 years in Steparankert, says the real problems were going to start in the coming weeks when the refugees outstay their temporary accommodation.
“The Azerbaijanis said they want to integrate Nagorno-Karabakh but how do you blockade a people for 10 months and then launch a military operation and then ask them to integrate?” she asks, as she prepares for a new leg of the journey to the Armenian capital where she hopes to find shelter.
“The blockade was part of the ethnic cleansing. This is the only way to get people to flee the land they love. There is no humanity left in the world.”
Back in the central square of Goris, where families pick through piles of donated clothes and blankets and aid organisations hand out food, the loudest question is: what next?
Armenian officials are busy registering families and sending them to shelters in different corners of the country. But there are unanswered queries about long-term accommodation, work and schooling.
“I can’t really think about it, it hurts too much,” says Hasratyan’s eldest daughter Lilet, 16, trembling in the sunlight as the family starts the registration process.
“All I can say to the world is please speak about this and think about us. We are humans, people made of blood, like you and we need your help.”
8K notes · View notes
lou-struck · 11 months
Text
Tumblr media
They Said No... Part 1
Obey Me! x MC!
Featuring: Lucifer, Mammon, and Leviathan
Part 2 HERE
Part 3 HERE
~Regular projects are being put on pause because I am a bit stressed. And I feel like this will help me out.
~We all get asked to do things sometimes that we do not want to do. And it's okay to say no, but sometimes you need a little extra help to get the point across.
Warnings: Pushy Demons, talk of pact control,
Lucifer
The eldest Avatar of Pride tries to hide the spring in his step as he approaches your meeting place. He had managed to work through all of the day's paperwork, and to celebrate, he was planning on taking you out to a nice meal on the town. 
But as he gets closer, he sees a few familiar noble demons practically standing over you. The polite smile that rests on your lips is betrayed by your overly tense body language and the grip you have on your DDD. Clearly, you would like to be anywhere else.
His brow furrows in concern as he focuses his attention on your conversion to see what exactly it is they want with you. Knowing that he can't just step in on your conversation without a good reason. Especially in High society.
"I will not do that; it is not right." your voice says, sounding quite annoyed at the situation you are in. It makes Lucifer chuckle to himself; you are just as headstrong as ever. But he does wonder what deed these men are asking you to do that frustrates you so.
The Demon clears his throat haughtily and steps closer to you, his companion mirroring the action, not giving you a chance to walk away. "It's for the good of the Devildom MC if you were to just use that silly little pact mark of yours and order Lucifer to drag his feet on signing off on that royal proclamation the Demon Lord has put out. We will happily be on our way and out of your hair."
Lucifer's jaw clenches furiously at the Demon's words. Ever since word of your pact with the eldest avatar of sin has spread through the Devildom, he has been waiting for insignificant worms to try and abuse the pacts. The Larger of the two demons is a known instigator of political conflict, thriving on the chaos of delayed legislation and discord. His beady eyes stare down at you condescendingly as he flares his dragonfly-shaped wings in the hope of intimidating you into doing his bidding. 
"I don't use my pacts," you spit, a nervous tremor to your voice. Your strength may be great, but you haven't the energy to deal with these Demons right now. "Please leave me alone."
"You will do what I want," the Winged Demon snarls, reaching out toward your arm. 
"That's enough," Lucifer cuts in, stepping down the corner as if he has only just stumbled upon this little scene. The three of you turn towards him instantly, and the two demons take a large step away from you cowardly. "Now, my human has clearly said no to whatever it was you were trying to get them to do, so be on your way."
Too afraid to say anything else, the two demons rush away, leaving you alone with the Avatar of Pride. You throw yourself into his chest, your body shaking a bit as you relax. 
"I did say no, Lucifer," you say into his collar. "Did you hear me? I would never want to do that to you, I promise."
"I heard everything; you did nothing wrong." he soothes; dealing with those demons can wait for later, but for now, he needs to take care of you.
Mammon
Mammon loves to spoil you more than anything in the three realms. The days after he plays well at the casino are spent in luxury; he takes you to the best shops and restaurants in the Devildom, more than ready to treat you the way you deserve to be treated. 
The café you were at is no exception with its luxuriously decadent sweets and, as Mammon had just found out, the fully stocked bathroom of complimentary samples. After sticking a handful of the mini cologne samples into his pocket, he comes back to the table to where you are sitting. But as he approaches your sweet little table in the corner, he notices you are no longer alone. The previously unoccupied seats at your table are now in use by some demons he knows.
Mammon may not be the best judge of character, but even he knows these guys are bad news. In the past, they have tried to start numerous sham businesses and fraudulent get-rich-quick schemes. 
Why in Diavolo would they be talking to his human? This is supposed to be his time with you?.
He feels his protective greed towards you start to flare up as he approaches a table, his superior hearing picking up a bit of their conversation.
"Come on, doll face," the blond one coo's leaning back on the seat next to yours, "We got a great opportunity for Mammon; he just needs a bit of convincing to agree."
You shake your head now and, with a politeness that would put even Barbados to shame, and say that Mammon is perfectly capable of making these decisions for himself. 
The trust that you have for your first Demon causes a heavy flush to appear on his cheeks. 
"Don't be like that, Mc," the other one pushes, swinging a lazy arm over your shoulder. Not seem to care that you tense up under the weight of his unwelcome touch. "if you do this for us, two pretty influential demons will owe you a favor."
The touch is the straw that broke the camel's back. No one gets to act so freely with his human. "Oi, get yer own human," he shouts, rushing forward and pulling you from the Demon's grip. "Come on, Mc, they don't got anythin worth lookin' at." 
Not caring about the uneaten treats that have just arrived at the table, he leads you away from those creeps and out of the cafe. 
Once alone and safe, he shoots you a wink. "Next time, just don't say anything to those losers. The Great Mammon will keep em away."
Leviathan
Levi's merch collection is one of the most coveted of the entire Devildom. His Figurines, Manga, DVDs, and memorabilia are worth a small fortune thanks to his fascination and skill as a top Otaku.
He has a sixth sense for picking out the most sought-after merch.
His fans on his online servers love his collection almost as much as he does. Blowing up his chat whenever he unboxes a new figurine.
He loves it, but he prefers to keep his online life online. Especially when he has to leave the house to go to RAD.
Today is one of those days; although most of his classes are online, he still has to show up to campus to take exams. With his exam done, he leaves the testing center and goes to find the classroom where you are studying.
As he approaches the open door, he sees you having a conversation with a demon he thinks he recognizes.
Not one for unwanted social interaction; he waits outside only to hear the conversation that the two of you are having.
"Please, Mc, you gotta give me that figurine. Levi-chan will never love Zaramela as I do. It will be the perfect addition to my collection." they plead, sinking to their knees and staring up at you with watery avian esque eyes. Zaramela is one of Levi's favorite Idols; he won a contest the other day for one of her limited-edition singing figurines. 
Levi has already turned down many people's requests to buy it, wanting to keep it for himself. But now they're going through you to try and get him to hand it over. It's so gross it makes him want to shut himself away in his room and never come out. Curiously he waits for you to respond to the crying Demon.
"He already told you that he wasn't going to give it away. "You stay calm, taking a step back to create some distance between you and the Demon. "You're just gonna have to find something else for your collection."
"No," they shout, springing to their feet, "I need her; I need her. Why don't you do this one thing for me?"
Levi knows his Henry can handle this guy, but the pushiness the Demon is showing towards you is something that makes his blood boil.
"Like MC would ever listen to a normie like you, you are a disgrace to the fandom." Levi spits with a confidence he didn't know he possessed as he takes your hand and walks you back to the house of lamination.
4K notes · View notes
serpentandlily · 6 months
Text
Untouchable - Azriel x Reader
Untouchable - Azriel x Rhysand's Sister! Reader ✨
Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had feelings for Azriel, your court's spymaster. But after centuries of watching him pine after your own cousin, hoping he'd eventually move on, your wish came true. He moved on-with Elain, your brother's mate's middle sister. Unable to watch him fall in love with someone else again, you flee from Velaris, from him. But things are a lot more complicated than that - more complicated than you ever imagined.
Warnings: angst
➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III ➻❥ Part IV ➻❥ Part V
➻❥ Part VI ➻❥ Part VII ➻❥ Part VIII ➻❥ Part IX ➻❥ Part X
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
Part I
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
Your heart was twisting in your chest, a sick feeling curling in the pit of your stomach, as you hurried down the dimly lit hallways of the River House. You held a hand over your mouth, trying to stifle the sobs that threatened to break loose and the bile that stung the back of your throat. You could do it, you could hold it in. At least until you got back to your room. And then you’d be free to cry and cry and cry as much as you wanted to.
You had spent years trying to bury your feelings for the shadowsinger. What had started out as a harmless crush on your older brother’s friend when you were just a girl had blossomed into true, real feelings since you had come of age. But despite your best efforts, Azriel still never seemed to notice you. Not like that anyways. 
Him and Cassian had adored you the moment you had entered their life as just a babe and the sister of their best friend. You had been born during a time of peace, decades after the war. The three of them had been nearing two-hundred. They had watched you grow into the female you were today. Had been there through your toughest years after watching your mother brutally murdered in front of you at the age of thirteen, barely saved before your own life was taken.
It was a good thing Rhys had become High Lord before the time you reached eighteen or your father would’ve had you married off, no doubt for some political alliance. You had hoped your brother would’ve given you a role in his court once you were of age but after almost losing you, he had become increasingly protective. 
So instead of being sent on missions, or used as an emissary, you spent most of your time volunteering in Velaris—helping to build the sanctuary into what it was today. You had eventually stopped arguing with your brother to loosen up his hold on you when he had broken down crying in front of you simply at the thought of you never returning if he was to send you out in the world. 
And how could you complain when Velaris had been your cage? So you learned to play your role, for him, for your brother. The pretty little sister of the High Lord. Never known for anything but your beauty. The beauty that had males sending your father marriage propositions since the age of ten. 
But there had only ever been one person you wished would see you that way. And he never had. You had to watch him pine after your own cousin for centuries. Never once looking your way. You feared he’d only ever see you as that little girl—the one who used to climb all over them at the cabin, the one who had the three males wrapped around her finger since she had been born. 
Only ever just a girl in his eyes. 
And you had made peace with that, as much as it hurt to be looked over by the one person you wanted the most. It still bothered you to watch his eyes track Mor all the time, to stare at her in a way he would never look at  you. You had made peace with that…until tonight.
You couldn’t lie to yourself and say you hadn’t seen the shift in him when he started looking after the middle Archeron sister. You had once believed he only had eyes for Mor, and it had brought you some solace in knowing that might be the only reason he had never looked your way. 
But then Elain showed up and those affections shifted from Mor to her. Suddenly he was always with her, spending hours in the gardens with Elain. Staring at her the way he would stare at Mor. Your heart had started crumbling all over again with the realization that he could move on from Mor, could fall for someone other than her—and it hadn’t been you. 
You had left your bed chambers tonight to fetch a glass of water from the kitchens but nothing could’ve prepared you for what you would’ve walked in on. You had smelt them before you opened the doors. Azriel’s cedar and night-chilled mist and Elain’s sweet jasmine and honey. 
You should’ve left then but something had compelled you to open the kitchen doors just a hair. 
And there they were. Elain seated on the counter, Azriel between her legs. Her skirt has been pushed up to her thighs, his hands tangled in her hair, as they kissed like two starved animals. 
You were lucky you had spent years learning how to keep a strong mask like your brother, for it allowed you to slip away without them ever noticing you. 
You finally made it to your room, shutting the door and locking it behind you. You were grateful for the sound wards you had put up because the minute you stepped over that threshold you collapsed into a heap on the floor as heart-wrenching sobs erupted from your lips.
It felt like you had been stabbed in the heart with a million knives, like someone had gutted you and twisted your insides. It hurt so much to think that Azriel would never want you the way you wanted him. He didn’t want you. He didn’t crave your presence the way you did his. He didn’t want to touch you the way you wanted to touch him. He just didn’t want you. 
And he never would.
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
“Send me somewhere,” you said, pressing your palms onto your brother’s desk as you stared at him right in the eyes—the eyes you shared. “Anywhere, I don’t care. Just send me somewhere.”
Rhys frowned, his eyebrows pinching together. “What has gotten into you? Did something happen?”
You let out a sigh, collapsing in one of the armchairs. You couldn’t tell him the real reason you wanted to leave. It was embarrassing. “Nothing happened. I’m just…tired of being cooped up here. Please, Rhys. It doesn’t even have to be far—just please.”
“Where is this coming from, y/n? You haven’t asked this in years. I thought you were happy here.”
“I am happy here. But I want to see the world, Rhys. And we’re finally in a time of peace. So let me, please.”
Rhys’s eyes narrowed, taking in your appearance. The slightly swollen eyes, the dark circles, the haphazard way you had braided your hair this morning. “Did…did someone hurt you? Did someone do something to you?”
“What? No!” A lie of course. But what could you say? Azriel had hurt you but it wasn’t like it was his fault. It wasn’t like he owed you anything.
“You know you can always talk to me about anything. Right, dove?” The use of his nickname for you nearly caused the tears you were fighting back to escape. 
“Of course, Rhys. But I promise you. No one did anything to me. Please. The war is finally over and I think I’ve spent enough of my life here. I want to see what the rest of the world has to offer.”
Rhys’s head fell in his hands. “I-I don’t think I can let you go, dove. I’m sorry but I can’t bear it…I can’t bear not having you here where I can protect you.” 
“It’s not fair!” You shouted, standing up. “I’m not a child anymore—I’m nearly three hundred years old for Gods sake! I’m suffocating here, Rhysie. Please.”
“Rhys,” Feyre said softly, placing a tattooed hand on her mate’s shoulder. “Perhaps it is time you let y/n make her own choices. You promised me you’d always give me a choice—would always let me decide what to do with my life. Why can’t that apply to your sister?”
You shot her a grateful look, hoping she would make him see reason. Rhys stayed silent and you knew he had been struck by her words. “I can go to Mor, on the continent. Then you don’t have to worry about me being alone. I can help her try to form alliances there.”
Still he said nothing but judging by Feyre’s narrowed eyes, you could tell they were having an argument mentally. You wiped your sweaty palms on your dress, wishing that he would listen to his mate about this. If anyone could talk Rhys into something, it was her. 
It felt like an eternity went by before your brother finally looked up at you. His eyes were full of sadness and guilt and you knew in that moment, you had won.
“Fine, fine. But you will go to Mor in Vallahan and stay with her the whole time. You will listen to her at all times and never go anywhere alone. And you will write me twice a week,” Rhys growled. “And I swear, y/n, if you even miss one letter, I will come get you myself. Those are my rules—take it or leave it.” 
A genuine smile bloomed on your face as you jumped to your feet and ran around the desk to embrace your brother in your arms. “Thank you, Rhys! Thank you! I promise I’ll do as you say. I promise.”
He held you tightly as if he never wanted to let go and you peered at Feyre from over his shoulders to mouth her a small ‘thank you’.
This was it. You’d finally be able to leave this city after three hundred years. Finally see the world! And most importantly: be far, far away from the shadowsinger that had won your heart but fallen for another. 
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
Three months went by in the blink of an eye. You had spent the entire time traveling with Mor from Vallahan to Montesere, where you two had just settled down when Rhys had contacted you both, asking for your return home. Apparently he had big news to share but he wanted to do it in person. So now you were packing up your things, getting ready to return back to Velaris for the first time since you had left.
It had been annoying how much you thought of Azriel still. But it was getting easier to ignore the longer you were away. You hoped those feelings would eventually disappear entirely—but every time you thought of moving on, something in your chest would ache and ache. 
That didn’t mean you hadn’t taken lovers in your time here. It had always been hard to find males to mess around with in Velaris considering they all knew who your brother was. The last thing they wanted was for Rhys to come looking for them after sleeping with you. So you’d only taken a few lovers here and there throughout the years.
But on the continent, no one knew who you were. Had no idea that you were the younger sister of one of Prythian’s High Lords. And Mor had been sure to teach you all the ways to have someone wrapped around your finger. You had never felt so confident in yourself as you did now. Finally becoming the female you wanted to be without your brother or the two other bats watching you over your shoulder. It was exhilarating.
But the thought of returning home had dampened some of your newfound joy. You were worried about slipping into your old role—being that sweet, pretty, little accessory they all expected you to be. 
You wouldn’t allow that. You couldn’t. Not after having a taste of what it could be like if you became the female you always dreamed you’d be. Someone who knew she was desired for more than just her looks. Someone interesting. Someone smart and witty. Someone brave. You tried to ignore the part of you that hoped Azriel might see those things in you now.
“Are you ready to go, y/n?” Mor asked, leaning against the doorframe of your room. 
You took one last look at yourself in the floor length mirror. You were wearing a dress that was typical of what they wore here in Montesere. If you could even call it a dress. It was white, the bodice dipping into a v-shape and clinging to your body with gold embellishments and blue gems decorating it. It had long sleeves that connected to a hood, stitched in glimmering gold. It cut off right under your breasts, exposing your toned stomach until just slightly passed your belly button. 
The skirt was held up by two thin gold straps that criss-crossed over the sides of your hips to connect it to the top part of the dress. The skirt itself traveled to the floor and had two long slits on either side to show off your legs. The white color complimented your tanned skin and the kohl you had lined your eyes with made the violet color of your eyes glimmer even brighter. 
You had left your hair down in soft curls, only pinning back two strands on either side of your face with some gold pins. More than happy with the way you looked, you turned back to Mor with a grin. 
“I’m ready to go home.” 
2K notes · View notes
joelsgreys · 1 year
Text
lean on me
Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader
Tumblr media
series masterlist
summary: It's been three months since you and Joel left your baby daughter with Bill and Frank in Lincoln; you aren't coping well and Joel tries to help you get through it.
pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader
warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. BOSTON QZ ERA ((TW)) though it is not explicitly stated, it is implied reader is suffering from postpartum depression. mentions of being unable to breastfeed. angst, hurt, comfort, tiniest hint of fluff at the end.
word count: 3.7k
a/n: this was only meant to be a short drabble, but it ended up getting longer than i anticipated. sorry for more angst.
September, 2020
Joel had known things would get bad.
But he hadn’t expected for them to get this fucking bad.
He glanced across the table at Tess, quietly asking, “She eat today?”
Tess let out a small sigh, shaking her head. “Nope.” She picked up her chipped, ceramic mug and took a sip of crappy, two decades old dark roast coffee and stated, “She didn’t eat anything yesterday, either. Or the day before that or the one before that. I can barely get her to take a fucking sip of water these days.”
“Fuckin’ hell, Tess! We can’t just sit around watchin’ her starve herself,” he hissed at her, his hands curling into fists on the table. 
She shot him an irritated look. “You think I don’t know that already?”
“Tess—”
“What are we going to do, Joel? Pin her down and force feed her?”
Joel’s jaw clenched, his lips pressing together in a tight, thin line. He glanced over at you with a heavy, sinking feeling inside of his chest at the mere sight of your current state. 
You were sitting on the bed in the same pair of gray sweatpants you’d been wearing for the last couple of days, your knees pulled up to your chest as you stared blankly, vacantly, out of the window beside you at absolutely nothing. You were beginning to appear frail—the current tone of your skin was so dull, so washed out that anybody who took one glance at you would probably think that you had spent your entire life locked away in some basement, never having seen the fucking sunshine before. The pallor of your skin was only emphasized by the dark, bruise-like circles underneath your eyes, courtesy of the long and sleepless nights you’d been having, especially lately. 
You had fallen deep into a sadness, a darkness—one so deep that you had become nothing but a mere shadow of your former self. You were an empty shell of a human being and it was starting to scare the fucking shit out of Joel. 
“Maybe if we took her to see the baby?” Tess suggested, quietly. She took another sip of her coffee and then set her mug down. “Frank has been wondering why you two haven’t been over there to see her. Hell, even Bill is curious why I’ve been going over there alone.” After having done some digging around, Tess managed to find someone in the QZ who had helped her get her hands on homemade infant formula; it was worth gold and only ever went to officials of a higher ranking who could actually afford it. Somehow, she’d pulled a few strings and the next thing Joel knew, Tess was loading a pack full of cans to take over to Lincoln. She’d made a couple more trips since then, and each time, she had gone alone. “It’s been over three months, Joel. Maybe it’s finally time—maybe it would help her.”
“In her condition?” Joel shook his head, adamantly. “No. For one, she wouldn’t fuckin’ make it a mile down the road before collapsing—from exhaustion, from starvation, you name it. And even if she could make the trip somehow, the truth is, she’s not ready to see her.” He lowered his voice to keep you from overhearing him, although at this point, he was certain that you were too zoned out to even pay attention. Every word was probably going in through one ear and out the other. “I hate to say it, but she’s just not strong enough to see her yet, Tess.”
“And what about you, Texas? What’s your excuse?”
He glared at her. “You really think I can leave her here alone in a state like this while we go skippin’ off to Lincoln together?”
“Good point.” Tess paused and peered curiously at him. “You haven’t even told her what they named her, have you?”
“Don’t think that’s such a good idea right now, either.” Joel held back a heavy sigh as he looked down into his own mug of shitty coffee. A huge part of him wished that she hadn’t told him what Bill and Frank ended up naming the baby. Since then, his daughter’s name echoed in the back of his mind, over and over again, damn near constantly.
“Joel, if we don’t do something, she’s going to wind up—” Tess could see his jaw clench again and she stopped herself, choosing her words more carefully. “She’s walking on thin ice. She’s not eating, she’s not sleeping. She’s already been in lockup twice this week alone because she can’t even keep up with work detail anymore. I know this is hard for you to hear, but if something doesn’t change soon, things are only going to get worse from here—she’ll get worse. You’re the only one of the two of us who actually has a chance of getting through to her and you need to fucking do something.”
“Tess, I’ve tried—”
“Well fucking try harder, Joel. If you don’t, you’ll fucking lose her. You know that, right?”
“I know.” Joel rubbed his face tiredly with both of his hands. He knew it was nothing but the truth that she was speaking, but goddamn the truth fell onto his shoulders heavy, almost too heavy. It felt as though he were carrying the weight of the entire fucking planet. But she was right. If something wasn’t done, he was going to lose you. “Tess, you mind if I have a minute alone with her?”
She nodded and took one last gulp of coffee before standing up from the table. “Yeah. I have to go see Robert and a couple of his buffoons about something anyway.” As she walked past him towards the door, she stopped and tossed him a pointed look. “Maybe today is the day that you finally decide to give her that thing that you’ve been carrying around in your pocket,” she suggested. “We went through a lot of shit for it, Joel. It’s the reason we have been drinking crappier coffee than usual for the last two weeks.”
He nodded, watching her as she grabbed her jacket and left.
After a minute or two, Joel finally pushed himself away from the table and rose to his feet. He made his way over to you, and he wasn’t even the slightest bit surprised at how you didn’t turn to acknowledge him despite the sound of his heavy boots on the creaking hardwood floor. He said your name as he came closer to you, but you remained as still as a stone statue, your eyes still fixed outside of the window.
“Alright,” he said, standing next to you at the side of the bed, both of his hands placed firmly on his hips. “Enough is fuckin’ enough. I can’t and I won’t let you keep carryin’ on like this. Either you get up and get your ass over to that table and eat somethin’ or I’m going to pick you up off of this bed, take you over there, and feed you myself. And don’t think I won’t. I’ll tie you down to the chair if that’s what I’ve gotta do.”
Finally, you turned to look at him. You spoke, your voice sounding just as fragile as you looked. “I’m not hungry.”
Joel’s expression immediately softened.
Fuck. 
He couldn’t be tough on you, not in the state you were in—he thought being hard on you would be the way to get through to you, but he just didn’t have it in him to be stern with you, not when you were like this.
“Baby. Please.” He knelt down beside you, reaching for your hand. He winced at how frigid your hand felt in his palm, as if he were holding a block of ice. He brought his other hand up and placed it on top, doing his best to warm it up with both of his. “Look, I get it. I know that you miss her. I know that you’re hurtin’ over her. You might not think I get it, but I do.” He paused, feeling sick to his stomach upon noticing the lifelessness in your eyes. He almost wished that he could see you cry, because at least he would know for certain that you were still in there somewhere—but Joel hadn’t seen you shed a single tear since you’d broken down sobbing in his arms that night in Lincoln. “You just can’t keep goin’ on like this. You don’t eat, you’ve barely slept in weeks. You keep fallin’ behind with all your work assignments and you’ve landed yourself in lockup more times than I can fuckin’ count because of it.”
You simply shrugged, as if you couldn’t give two shits about any of it.
Joel managed to bite back his sigh of frustration. He knew that losing his temper would do nothing more than sink you further into the hole you were currently in. But he was angry. He was just so fucking angry about about everything. Here you were, just slipping right through his fucking fingers, slowly fading away right before his own two eyes and he didn’t know what to do to stop it from happening. He felt lost. He felt hopeless—useless. 
He squeezed your hand out of desperation. He would fucking plead if he had to. “I need you to fuckin’ snap out of it. Please,” he begged, as he continued holding your hand tightly, holding onto it as if he were holding onto dear life itself. “Please, for the love of fuckin’ god, I need you to just snap out of it. If not for yourself, fuckin’ do it for me—do it for her.”
“Snap out of it?” You repeated. “You want me to just snap out of it?”
“Baby, please just listen to me for one goddamn second—”
You snatched your hand out of both of his. “I can’t just fucking snap out of it, Joel!” You nearly shouted at him, speaking the loudest he’d heard you speak in several weeks. “Alright? I can’t snap out of it! My heart is shattered into pieces, don’t you fucking understand that?”
“‘Course I do. Givin’ her up was hard for me too,” he reminded you quietly, resisting the urge to match your tone. 
“And I don’t deny that,” You prefaced yourself. “I know it was hard on you too, Joel. But you’re not the one who came this close, this damn fucking close to aborting her.” You held up your index finger and your thumb close together. You’d started trembling as everything seemed to catch up to you all at once—sleep deprivation, malnourishment and of course, the emotions you had been bottling up inside of you for the last three months. “You’re not the one who carried her inside of your womb for almost nine months, who felt every one of her flutters and her kicks. You’re not the one who had to go through the excruciating pain of giving birth to her in this crumbling apartment, only to have to place her in someone else’s arms and leave her behind three days later. You’re not the one who had to deal with the aftermath, Joel. Do you know how much it fucking hurt not to be able to feed her? How much it fucking sucked to have to wait for your milk supply to dry up because you no longer had a baby to feed?”
For the first time in a long time, Joel was left speechless. 
He didn’t know what to say. Hell, there was nothing he could say.
Because you were absolutely fucking right.
None of what you’d just said to him was a lie. Of course he knew that giving the baby up had been a hundred times harder on you than it’d been on him—mentally, emotionally, and even physically. He thought back to the nights when he would see you sitting there with your own arms wrapped around your chest, knowing you were aching, knowing that although you said nothing about it, you were in unbearable pain from being unable to breastfeed. 
And what could he do about it?
Not a goddamn fucking thing.
Still, Joel had tried. He always made the attempt to comfort you, only to be shot down time and time again. He’d been so used to being the one who rejected any kind of support that, when the tables had been turned on him, he hadn’t known how to handle it. Joel could feel the guilt slowly creeping in as he wondered if perhaps he just hadn’t tried hard enough for you. He was your partner—it was his duty to take care of you, to look out for you, to protect you, and yet here he was, failing to do any of that. 
He could have done more. 
He should have done more.
Especially after all the friction he’d caused from the beginning of your pregnancy. From letting you go to those crooked motherfuckers for a procedure that could have cost you your life, down to the way he had treated you the night you’d brought up Sarah, it seemed as though all Joel had been doing was fucking up, time after time. 
Seeing the expression on Joel’s face, you immediately knew what he must have been thinking. Your eyes widened and you quickly uttered a nearly breathless apology. “Joel, I’m so fucking sorry—”
He stopped you, tightly shaking his head. “No, don’t be. It’s true, it’s all fuckin’ true.”
Finally, after three months of bone-dry eyes, a warm tear slipped out, falling down the side of your face. Your entire body shuddered as the flood gates opened and more followed in suit, each one falling faster, harder than the last. The next thing you knew, Joel had pulled himself up onto the mattress beside you, pulling you into his arms just as you had started sobbing. With one hand, he delicately cradled the back of your head as you cried and cried into his shoulder. The other rubbed a soothing circle into your back over and over again. 
And just like that night in Lincoln, Joel just held you, waiting patiently as you finally allowed yourself to release each and every single one of your emotions out into the open. He didn’t say a word to you, nor did he attempt to stop the tears—he just held you close, merely using his touch to silently let you know that he would wait as long as he had to until you were finished.
“Joel,” You sniffed his name, your hands clutching fistfuls of his shirt.
“I’m right here, baby,” he assured you, holding you even closer against him, as close as humanly possible. His heartbeat was right in your ear and you closed your eyes, listening to it and letting it calm you. “I told you I wasn’t gonna let you carry this pain alone, darlin’. You remember that?”
You nodded against his chest, whispering, “I remember.”
“Well then, you’ve gotta let me help you,” Joel said into your hair. “For three months, I’ve been tryin’ but you just keep pushin’ me away. It doesn’t work like that. I need you to lean on me. I need for you to let me back in and help you because the road you’re headin’ down right now is a dangerous one.” 
Opening your eyes, you pulled away from him slightly, just far enough to meet his worried gaze. You could see the absolute fucking hell that you had been putting him through and felt your heart clench painfully inside of your chest. “I know I can’t keep going on like this, Joel,” You admitted softly to him. “Believe me, I know that. I tried so hard to get a fucking grip. There have been so many days where I think to myself, today is the day that I’m going to get my shit together. But then I just think of her sweet and innocent little face and I just fall apart all over again.” You muffled another sob with the palm of your hand.
“Oh, baby.” He gave your body a gentle, but firm squeeze. If he could take your pain away, all of it, and carry it along with his own, he would do it in a fucking heartbeat. 
You swallowed harshly. “I know she is far better off where she is, Joel, I know that she is. I never want her falling into the hands of FEDRA. It kills me to think of her being here in this shitty fucking place, going to their shitty fucking school.” Your voice broke at the mere thought of it all. “We know what would happen, Joel. As soon as she comes of age and meets their requirement, they will put her through their recruiting program. After her training, they either deem her worthy of becoming a fucking ruthless officer or they will give her the shittiest civilian jobs making her work for scraps of nothing, the same way they do to us.”
Joel sighed, rubbing your back again. “I know, baby. I know. It’s why we did what we did. We did what we had to do to spare her from that shit.”
“But then there’s this selfish part of me that wants her back so badly, so fucking badly that it makes me fucking ache,” You confessed, guilt lacing your tone of voice. “I just want the hurt to stop. I want to be at peace with the decision that we made, but the way I miss her, it feels almost impossible. I feel like I’ll never be able to accept that this is the way things have to be.”
“You have to accept it—we have to accept it. We ain’t got a choice,” Joel spoke the truth to you as gently as he could, though he knew it wouldn’t make a difference.
“I know,” You whispered, your eyes glazing over with fresh tears.
He stared at you for a moment and then pressed his lips against your forehead. Deciding it was time to show you what he’d been keeping a secret from you, Joel reached into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a small, crumpled up wad of brown tissue paper. With one of his arms still around you, he used both of his hands to unwrap the tissue paper only to reveal a delicate silver chain—a bit too old to be shiny, but still in good shape nonetheless. Joel picked it up and tossed the tissue off to the side. He held it up in front of you to give you a better look at it. 
A single white pearl hung from the chain. 
“Joel, where did you get this?” You gasped lightly, taking it from him with trembling fingers. You didn’t even want to know what the hell he must have had to do or trade for it. Sure, jewelry was one of the most useless items that anyone could possess in this world because it no longer had any monetary value, but if someone wanted something bad enough and another person had it, then advantage was going to be taken somewhere, somehow. 
“Don’t you worry ‘bout that, darlin’.”
You glanced up at him, an incredulous look in your eyes. “Joel.”
He almost chuckled, knowing you wouldn't let him off that easy. “I’d mentioned to Tess that I wanted to get you somethin’ special to carry around with you, somethin’ that would remind you of her. Tess said a pearl was the birthstone for June, and so I asked her to help me find one a few weeks ago. She found some guy and I cut a deal for it. But that’s all I’m tellin’ you.”
Joel took the necklace from you and beckoned for you to turn around for him. Moving your hair aside, he reached around you and clasped it at the back of your neck. “I’d rather only you wear it when you’re here in the apartment. Once you go outside, it stays hidden in your pocket so no one sees it, alright?”
You turned back around to face him. “I don’t even know what to say. I can’t believe you did this for me, Joel.” You reached for his hands and held them tightly in your own as you shot him a sincere, grateful look. “Thank you.”
He leaned forward, lightly brushing his mouth against yours. “Baby?”
“Yes?” You murmured against his lips.
Joel squeezed your hands, hesitating for a moment before he said, “I know I’ve only ever said it to you once—that night. Outside of Bill and Frank’s place. But I need you to know that I love you. The truth is, I’ve been lovin’ you for a long time now. Never had it in me to admit it, not even to myself.” His eyes met yours in such a tender way that you felt a part of your broken heart begin to heal itself. It was just a small part, and you knew that unless you had your daughter back, it would never mend itself completely. Still, it was enough to give you a sense of hope. It was just enough to remind you that you would be able to find the strength in you to survive this pain. If you had any reason to keep going, it was right there it front of you. It was Joel. “I love you. I’m gonna do everythin’ that I can to help you through this. All you’ve gotta do is lean on me, alright?”
“I love you, Joel.” Though you’d said it to him once before, it still felt a bit foreign to say out loud.
It felt right, though. And it felt right hearing him say it to you. 
Reaching up, you lightly clasped the pearl in your hand. You leaned into Joel’s chest and felt him wrap his arms around you. 
“Y’know,” Joel said, breaking the momentary silence that had fallen over you, “Tess said Frank’s been wondering why we haven’t been over to see her yet. I know it might still be a bit too soon for you, but—” He let his sentence trail.
Though he didn’t say it out loud, you could hear it in his voice.
He wanted to see the baby.
“I’m not ready for that just yet,” You admitted. “I want to see her more than anything, but look at me. I’m a fucking mess.” You paused, clutching onto the pearl a little tighter. “Maybe we can try in a few weeks? What do you think?”
Joel kissed the top of your head. “Soon as you’re ready, say the word and we’ll go.”
Tumblr media
3K notes · View notes
viinieroxide · 17 days
Text
—seven days. [ i ]
pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.
summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.
author's note: not beta-read. not edited. enjoy reading.
part 1. part 2. part 3. part 4. part 5. part 6.1. part 6.2. part 6.3. part 7.
You are not surprised when Max Verstappen won the 2023 Formula One season. Given how he dominated each Grand Prix in the season, except Singapore but we don't talk about Singapore, you kind of expected the results already. This is Max's third time winning the WDC title and that makes you the manager of a three-time WDC title holder now. As someone who worked with the guy the last five years, you are immensely proud of Max. You’ve been working as his manager ever since 2019—you, twenty-three, a fresh graduate of Mechanical Engineering and he, twenty-one, an aspiring world champion but you've known each other since 2018—so you knew better than anyone else, better than Christian Horner even, just how much it took from Max just to reach the place where he is standing right now. Furthermore, Red Bull Racing also won the Constructor’s Championship so everyone in the team cannot be any happier. Celebrations are in order, of course, but you have excused yourself to retire early in the evening instead. Max has asked you why. You replied that you're tired and that's the only truth you can offer him.
You draft your resignation letter whilst everyone at Red Bull is partying in some place else in Abu Dhabi. Good for them honestly. What better way is there to celebrate a victory than with alcohol? Fortunately, there's canned beer on the mini fridge so that's your share of the victory alcohol tonight while you're hunched over your laptop on the couch. Rihanna is playing from your laptop speakers in a Youtube playlist in another Google tab while you work on the letter on a separate Google Docs tab.
Dear ________,
Please accept this letter as my formal resignation from my position as the manager of Red Bull Racing first driver, Max Verstappen, effective seven days from today’s date, November 26, 2023.
I appreciate the opportunities for growth and development you have provided me during the five years I worked for this amazing team. Leaving is not an easy decision for me but in order to further my career, I have to spread my wings and explore. Please let me know if I can help with anything to make my resignation easier for the company staff.
Thank you, Red Bull, for giving me wings and the courage to fly. Now, I believe it is time for me to soar new skies. I will cherish the time I have spent here in Red Bull Racing.
Sincerely,
[First Name] [Last Name].
You read it over and over again, checking for errors in the spelling or the grammatical structure.
“Thank you Red Bull for giving me wings and the courage to fly….” you mutter. What Red Bull gave you was five decades worth of stress. One decade's worth of stress for each year since you were accepted in the team. “Cringy as fuck.”
Your phone abruptly rings and you jump in surprise, dropping your phone and your beer and oh shoot, you almost dropped your laptop, too. You scramble to pick up the canned beer, hissing slightly when you see the liquid form a pool on the tiled floor. Your initial response is to avoid it so you sidestepped and kicked your YSL heels away from the puddle. The heels are previously placed next to your feet neatly but now they're thrown haphazardly on the floor a few meters away. Your eyes quickly search for a towel, or anything you can use to wipe that shit off before it reaches the expensive hotel carpet, but there is no towel in your vicinity and the liquid is moving fast so you take off your Red Bull shirt—haha, you’re resigning anyways—leaving you in only your sleeveless undershirt. You throw it on the floor. Then, you crouch down and hurriedly wipe the beer.
Crisis averted! Beer - 0. You - 1. You pick up the call after, already knowing it's from Max even without reading the caller ID because you have set a separate ringtone for him, using that catchy Super Max sound, “Hello, [Name] here. Anythin’ I could help?”
Daniel’s voice is not something you have expected to hear, not from Max’s phone anyway, but then again, they should be together right now at the afterparty, “Hi [Name], we kind of got ourselves stuck in a situation here.”
Your brows furrow, forehead creasing, “Danny? Somethin’ wrong?”
“It's Max.”
You stiffen before slowly rising to a stand. Your head begins running at a speed of 300 kilometers per hour, the pace of a Formula One car, coming up with different scenarios where Max is in danger and a list of things you can do to get him out of those situations, “What's wrong with Max?”
That's how you found yourself in the middle of the Red Bull afterparty, navigating through the sweaty and drunk Red Bull employees with your eyes actively searching for a tall, broad-shouldered, blond-brown-haired, blue-eyed Dutchman. You find him nearly ten minutes after entering the party, in a corner, on the floor, next to a yellow puddle of disgusting liquid with his head hanging low and the two Alpha Tauri drivers, Daniel and Yuki, standing right beside him. Thank God they did not leave Max.
The fact that they are in a party full of Red Bull employees and none even tried to help Max bothers you greatly. Jesus, what is wrong with these people? You lower yourself in front of him, hand coming up to his nape while the other is on his forearm before gently guiding him away from the vomit pool just in case he accidentally touches on it. If he did, you know you're the one who’s going to clean him up and frankly, you aren't in the mood for dealing with that. Max follow your hands like it's second nature for him to follow your guidance, leaning into the warmth of your palm.
“What happened?” you finally voice the question you've been dying to ask once Max is a good distance away from the pool of vomit. Daniel is the one who answers you, “He asked for you.”
That doesn't answer your question. Thankfully, Yuki decides to be more helpful, “He broke up with Kelly this morning.”
Oh.
He raced while shouldering a broken heart and still won? Poor Max. But also, you are not surprised. Not even a bit. It's very much like him to prioritize the race over his feelings because Max Verstappen only wants one thing in the world and that is to emerge victorious at the sport he loved. To prove to the world that he is top one, to prove to Jos Verstappen that he is top one and that he will go down in history as top one and the world shall remember it even after he leaves the F1 racing scene for the young ones.
“Thanks, Yuki,” you turn to Daniel and nod. “Danny, I’ll take it from here.”
“Are you sure you don't need help?”
You shake your head and offer a tight-lipped smile. Dealing with a drunk Max is no biggie. You have worked with the guy for five years already, four as his manager. That's over a hundred podiums and defeats and in each defeat and each podium, alcohol and Max become the best of friends. You’re used to this; cleaning him up, picking him up, tucking him into bed, calling his girlfriend to deal with his drunk ass, and helping him nurse the hangover in the morning with an Advil and a good breakfast.
You roll the sleeves of your champagne-colored button-up to your elbows and in one swift motion, you lift Max in a fireman’s carry. That volunteer work you did at LAFD back when you're still in university paid off in these moments.
It was a comedic sight. A 5’5” woman in heels carrying an almost six foot drunk racer who is at least two times broader than her on her shoulders. The media has already caught a picture of a similar-looking moment one time in 2019 and another in 2021—such times are the beginning of those annoying dating rumors that involves you and Max—and you can say that Twitter is mostly impressed that the Red Bull manager was strong enough to lift a high-performance athlete. Some made memes of it. You'll never admit that you saved some of them, especially the ones that made fun of Max so you could put it above his head. Some even claimed that your YSL heels must be some sort of superhero power up because you do a lot of athletic things in those heels like running through the paddock as if you were just wearing a pair of Nikes, kicking a door down, driving a motorcycle around in Monza to buy Max's morning coffee, and getting in a physical fight with Max’s anti-fan back in 2022. In theory, you can and will absolutely kill a god in those heels and honestly, it's about time YSL sponsors you because you're giving their Opyum heels so much promotion.
What the public doesn't know is that Max is lighter than he looks and paired with your capability of lifting heavy equipment and people due to your history as a volunteer firefighter, it is incredibly easy to lift him without breaking a sweat and yes, even while wearing heels. People are too easily impressed nowadays.
You ignore the confused stares that are sent your way as you hurriedly walk to the comfort rooms. In a matter of seconds, you are power-walking yourself inside the male comfort room, sending an unimpressed look at the two Red Bull rookie employees making out inside. They are horrified when they see you. You can tell with the way their eyes widened and how they scrambled away from each other and hurriedly fixed themselves while muttering a thousand apologies. You don't even need to say anything. They are out before you could even tell them to.
You lock the door behind you before heading towards the bathroom sink and placing Max there. You put your hands on the back of his head and shoulders to support him until he's leaning against the mirror and sitting fully upright. You wish he won't topple over and accidentally hit his head on the tiles.
“Hey, hey,” you tap his cheek. “You good, Max?”
You sincerely hope he won't pass out. Unconscious people are heavier than conscious people when you lift them.
Procuring a water bottle inside your tote bag, you hand it to him. He accepts it wordlessly and down it in one go. You pull out an extra shirt from your bag, “Off with the shirt, big boy.”
Obediently, Max does what he is told and he peeled his shirt off him. You have to help him midway because he got it stuck around his neck. You toss the stinky shirt somewhere on the sink and hand him the shirt you brought. Again, you help him put it on because drunk Max has seemingly forgotten where the holes of the t-shirt are and which limb should enter a specific hole. Oh wait, that sounds wrong.
“You're taking good care of me.”
His voice sounds so small when he utters those words that it almost got swallowed up by the silence of the room and the muffled sound of the party outside.
“Aren't I always?”
You are paid to take good care of him after all.
“Always.”
You wet a towel in the sink and squeeze out the excess water in the wool. Your fingers gently cradle Max’s jaw as you wipe his face. He has a little vomit on his cheek.
You're used to looking at Max’s face up close but you still cannot help but be amazed by the beauty of it, you know? Some people will not consider Max as a conventionally beautiful man. Different people have different preferences. Honestly, you used to be one of those people. You met Max when he was twenty-one and that time, he looked like a fetus and greatly resembled Sid the sloth from the Ice Age movies. You used to tease him all the time about it, calling him a kid and pulling the age card when he needed to be reigned in or to annoy him until he submits into obedience, when you are only a year older than him. The stress of racing caused Max to age quickly but thankfully, he does not age badly. No, instead Max transitioned into an absolute daddy. Thank God he is more like his mother than his father, too. His mother’s genes saved him. Thank you Sophia!
You would have fallen for him, too, like the gazillion women all around the world who'll fall at his feet, but it’s hard to do so when you know he doesn't even know how to peel his own oranges. Drives a car going 300 kilometers per hour and can’t even peel a damn orange.
Twitter is always having a field day when they manage to snap a picture of you peeling oranges for him. Orange Peel Theory or whatever that is. Ludicrous bullshit, to be honest. The only theories you know are the ones taught in Physics class.
“I wonder if you know how much I need you,” he mutter. “I wonder if you can tell.”
“Very poetic,” you say flatly because Max has the tendency to say the most out of pocket yet soul breaking things when he's drunk and you are too tired to rationalize all his musings right now. We love a trauma-dumping king.
“You talkin’ ‘bout Kelly?” you ask, brow raising slightly. You continue to clean his face before proceeding to wipe his arms and his hands.
“I don't know.”
“Okay.”
He probably is talking about Kelly anyway.
Now that Kelly is gone, you’re beginning to get worried for Max. Earlier, as you wrote that resignation letter in your hotel room, the worry of leaving Max was not present. He has Kelly after all. Kelly can easily do the things you did for Max, not that she should do the work of a Red Bull manager because honestly, if she plans on taking up your job now, you’ll tell her to run and save herself. You mean the support you gave Max. You mean going all-out in protecting Max whether from haters or even his own father and especially his own darkness. You mean standing with him, inside that open cage that he can walk out of anytime but chose not to because Jos Verstappen still had his claws on him. You mean not leaving Max, no matter where he stood, may it be at the top of that glorious podium or at the end of the line. You mean taking care of Max the same way you did, even if he insists that helping him is nothing but rotten work.
But then, she left. Now what?
“I want to tell you something.”
You lift your eyes and met Max’s glazed blue ones.
“It is in my will that if I die—”
“You're not dyin’," you cut him off, not even the least bit amused about the idea of Max dying.
“Shush,” he playfully glares at you and you roll your eyes, itching to pull that I’m older than you so don't shush me card just to annoy him. “Let me finish. It is in my will that if I die, my cats will be taken care of by you. Oh come on, stop making that face. You look like you're having an aneurysm.”
“Shut up,” you swat his forearm with the damp towel, causing him to laugh at you. “Why’d you even do that? Give them to your Mom or somethin’.”
“But nobody is better at taking care of someone than you,” he says and his voice bled with rawness and honesty and so much sincerity that you're taken aback. “I want someone to take care of them like how you take care of me.”
You blink, mouth slightly agape. What can you even say to that? Thank you? I’m honored? Dude, what the fuck? Are you confessin’ to me or somethin’? You doin’ big shit over there by putting me in your will.
Now, you’re even more worried. Who will take care of Max after you're gone? The same way you took care of him?
Nonetheless, on December 13, you submit the resignation letter to Christian Horner. He reads the letter with a deep frown marring his face. It's funny how he had the same expression on his face, too, on the first day you met him when you were applying from Red Bull.
“Have you told Max?”
The guy is sleeping in his hotel bed as you speak and will probably be awake in a few hours with the world’s shittiest hangover. So no, you have not told him. Not yet, at least.
“No.”
“He wouldn't be happy with this.”
You know Max does not bode well with goodbyes, especially from the people he closely worked with leaving Red Bull. Look at what happened with Danny in 2018. Now, it is your turn. Two of his biggest friends in the Red Bull team, leaving in search of careers outside his shadow. Being in Max's shadow..... They are right after all. It is a curse.
While you love Max, platonically of course, being his manager is not what you wanted. You did not suffer through four years in engineering school just to become an errand girl for a racer. This is not what you applied for when you sent that application letter in Red Bull and Renault back when you were twenty-two. Renault didn't have an opening in their engineering team so your future with that team was quickly erased. Red Bull had no opening in their engineering team either but they had an open spot on the team as Daniel Ricciardo's manager for a whole season. You accepted their offer, naturally, hoping that their engineering team will have a place for you soon. When Danny left, you contemplated following him to Renault.
Then, Max told you to not go to Renault because they're a shitty team and perhaps he was right because in that sucky car they had, Daniel barely won podiums, but if Renault would give you the position you wanted and worth your student loans, then you'd take it.
"No, stay."
Demanding little prickly ass, he was, "I will win next year. When I become a world champion, I'll ask Horner to move you to the engineering team."
You did not know why you believed him.
2021—Max became world champion. You hoped he would ask Horner like he told you back in 2018.
2022—Max became world champion again but you're still stuck as his manager. You reminded him of his declaration in 2018. He told you he was already on it. Two rookie engineers entered the team that year, taking the spot that should have been yours years ago and you were stuck wondering if Max was really putting truth on his words.
2023—Max became a third-time world champion and you wouldn't even ask anymore.
“I know," you say, voice barely above a whisper. "I'll deal with it."
"I'll trust that you'll be the one who'll tell him?"
It amuses you how no one wants to deal with Max or drop him the big news. Everyone knew how crazy he could get when Max does not like something. He's a menace. He'll terrorize everyone. You're the only one who could hold the menace down.
"Of course, Sir. Leave it to me."
“Are you transferring teams? Are you still going to stay in Monaco near Max?”
Monaco is not home. Home is desert and heat. Home is Texas.
“Nah, goin’ back to Austin.”
Everybody knows Texas was your home, your accent and your manners spoke of it. Some Europeans look down on it, calling you a country bum and a cowgirl mascarading as a sophisticated sidehoe of a champion. Fuck 'em all.
“Everyone in the team is given two weeks off now that we’ve won so your resignation is immediately effective of today,” Horner says. “If the US GP is held at Austin next year, make sure to come by. Max would appreciate it.”
Christian Horner is an asshole but he is at least good to Max and that's what's important.
You get a text from Max an hour later.
him: i feel like shit
him: thanks for the advil and the soup
him: also im flying back to monaco tonight, fly with me
Tonight, you're flying to Monaco with Max Verstappen. Seven days from now, you're flying home alone.
754 notes · View notes
evilminji · 25 days
Text
You know what's my JAM?
Extremes being treated as the Serious Dangers they ARE, even when they aren't "oooh its a spooky Grey morality and BADness!" Extreme.
Like? No, people. ALL of them are bad. They are ALL face melting dangerous. The void may crush your soul, but look upon the Face Of GOD? Not gonna be having a fun time! Doesn't MATTER if he's a cool dude! Face melting!
We are creatures of BALANCE. Tiny, fragile, little motes of dust. That can only exsist in the careful, blended, dances of territories and powers that be. We squishy.
Ghosts? Less squishy.
Poor impulse control, too. Especially ones with Fenton genetics. ABSOLUTELY ones with Fenton genetics and a trauma based aversion to therapy. That one? Pretty hardy. Made pretty tough, what with being Fates third favorite chew toy. But? Still gets the Sads, you know? The slightly longer then just seasonal depression.
Would medicine and some therapy help? Oh like a dream!
If medicine WORKED on his Ectoplasmicly contaminated ass. And he TRUSTED therapists.
But... surely, Danny thinks, as he sits grossly in his Depression sweatpants and eats suspect pizza on the floor of his moldering shoebox of an apartment, there must be SOME way to address his Depression? He should... he should DO something about it. Take a break maybe. Look up some ghost doctors or something.
.....
Oooooooooor..... >.>
He could break out that OMENIOUS af, bound in suspect leather, Big Book Of Forbidden Knowledge(TM) that he got from Pariah's.... what, fourth? Fifth? Library? Fuck that Lair is huge. He's STILL cleaning it out and it's been over half a decade. He swears it spawns more floors just to mock him. Bastard. Don't know HOW a building can be a Bastard, but it sure found A WAY.
Anyway!
Book it is! *horrifying Eldritch light as he opens it* huh. Neat. Comes with its own visual effects. *another bite of suspect pizza* Funky.
And so! Danny, the depressed King Of The Zone... fucks of to go cheer himself up in the Fields Of Bliss(TM), an area of Absolute Bliss. Which! Sounds GREAT in theory, now don't it? Lovely even.
Remember that little comment about extremes?
You can ENTER those fields. But no one leaves. No one CAN. The deeper you go? The more doomed you become. Less will to do anything at all. Eat, talk, move. So much as think. Like ALL extreme "Goods", it sounds lovely, but the reality is no gentle little thing.
It's a glue trap.
But how could Danny have known? Honestly, who would have TAUGHT him? Textbooks can only go so far, after all. And placing blame will not rescue the young monarch.
I imagine it's one of his helpers that pieces together what's happened. Come for further clarification on WHERE exactly he wants certain statues moved. Only? Your Majesty? Your Majesty...? Where ever could he BE? Oh? He's left out some of his books. Well, I'll just assist by putting them away for-.....
Oh.
OH ANCIENTS, NO.
But! What can the poor man DO? Ghosts are Beings of Will, Emotion, and Obsession. Were it some sort of Holy Blade or Sentient Tree, you know, something INDIVIDUAL with a will they could FIGHT? Oh no problem. But an area of effect? Especially an EMOTIONAL area of effect!? Ooooooh, this is bad. The Zone can't AFFORD to lose ANOTHER King!
We JUST GOT THIS ONE!!!
Wait. He's heard that there's an organization for this! That loudly cursing fellow who got violently thrown back into the Zone. "Ruined his fun" and all that! Perfect! He'll just hire THEM!
Smashcut? To a nice, peaceful, everybody's screaming Justice League Meeting. John's cursing life, extremely hungover. Zatana still has three cracked ribs. Wonder Woman is enjoying the new sword she... liberated... mid battle. Truely stunning craftsmanship. When?
Knock Knock!
Heads swivel. There... is a glowing green... accountant? Dandy? Dandy accountant. With an equally radioactive day glow green Actual Pirate's Chest Of Treasures, floating next to him. In the void of space; Just beyond the glass. What, the, fuuuuuu-
He seems to be under the impression they are some sort of Heroic mercenaries. And has come to request the retrieve-
"NNNNNOPE! Pariah can SHOVE it!" Snarls a suddenly very awake John Constantine, sitting up straight for the first time in hours. The rest of Dark grimly nod in agreement. Let the fucker rot. It's a kinder fate then he deserves.
No, no, NO! King PHANTOM! Pariah's SUCCESSOR by right of combat! They are not, and were never, allied in any way!
Well, all right then. Road trip to save a young idiot then.
@the-witchhunter @hdgnj @hypewinter @lolottes @mutable-manifestation @nerdpoe
486 notes · View notes
vln-vibes · 25 days
Text
Heroes Hunted
(I need to finish my other fics before thinking of others Q^Q)
Basically we've seen quite a few Danny getting hunted down by the GIW and ending up in Gotham resulting in him warning certain Bats (mainly just Jason) that hes in danger as well--- but what if the GIW decided to target 'smaller fish' in order to train themselves against Phantom; their main target.
Unfortunately Team Phantom is too busy trying to keep the calm around Amity Park and don't realize it until they're too late.
The JL never see them coming.
The Bats are frantically looking for what should be their literal assassin trained Robin, Red Hood and Black Bat.
Supers are flying around the area looking for any trace of Supergirl and Superboy (I). Not even Tim's trackers on Conner show anything (just like the ones he had on his fellow Bats).
Arrows had sent Green Arrow and Arsenal to help with the search of the Bats, Roy leaving Lian behind with Dinah, only to drop off the face of the Earth.
The Flash, Blue Beetle and Hawkwoman are all reported as MIA.
An Emergency Meeting is announced and trying to get into contact with all the other fellow heroes. Some were known to be off planet but there were a few who'd failed to respond at all...
Batman is the first to realize a common factor to all those who've disappeared as most had concluded something or someone was targeting heroes.
They'd all died.
Diana was the one to bring forward worst news; the hunt wasn't done.
Impulse, Red Robin, Cyborg, Hawkman, Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman herself were possible targets as well.
Cyborg was able to recover and corrupted and dropped emergency call from Barry "Those weirdos in white from earlier are attacking downtown, could use some backup asap. Something about Anti-Ecto Acts or whate-- Hey! Ugh"
A shiver went down their spines as they collectively told stories about spotting men in white suits walk around their cities. Some had brushed them off whilst others had kept tabs but the guys seemed to have lost interest and left.
It was a terrible oversight.
"Looks like some assholes are digging their noses into my turf, gonna stake them out tonight" Jason had told Bruce the last night they'd seen each other, "My guys they were wearing white suits, terrible choice for Crime Alley or Gotham"
Red Hood had said he didn't need backup as he would just gather intel, still that was also the night Black Bat and Robin were paired for patrol and she'd indicated she'd check in on him before the end of the night. The three never got to call in for the night.
Oracle had informed him that Red Hood's helmet had detonated, fortunately without him in it, its location the last place his children had pinged in the scanners.
The only audio they managed to recover from the device was "---Control Act, Article 1, Subse---Under Arrest---Questioning... And experimenting lots---"
Oracle had finally found the 'Anti-Ecto Acts', formally known as the Federal Anti-Ecto Control Act hidden along laws against the privatization of new green energy sources; Anything that was made off of or produced this so called 'ectoplasm' was to be handed over to the federal government's Ghost Investigation Ward for imprisonment, experimentation and finally termination.
"What the hell even is ectoplasm?"
"Its the source of all ghosts" Zatanna spoke up, repulsion clear as she read and reread the acts words, "Their body and souls are made up of the energy much like atoms make up all things in the physical world. The energy of the dead"
"According to these documents" Red Robin pulled up a research paper around two decades old from some students of the University of Wisconsin, "Ectoentities or ghosts are unfeeling, nonsentient echoes of their formerly living selves. They'd even theorized a means to access their home dimension they call the Ghost Zone"
"Ghost are made of bloody emotions" Constantine rolled his eyes "What kind of idiot would think otherwise? And don't get me started on a 'home dimension'--unless?"
"John, you don't think?"
"I sure as bloody hell hope not"
"The Infinite Realms!?"
Which only proved the situation more dire; a potential for a dimension that glued the multiverse and their afterlives, whose beings all had potential of rivaling the strength of a Super when provoked, their noted territorial nature making that a given if a portal happened upon them.
They were on a ticking time bomb to rescue their fellow heroes but they didn't even know where to start. Luckily they weren't the Justice League for nothing---
Potential locations scouted, teams made and buddy systems enacted for those potentially targeted.
Batman and his team headed to Amity Park to check on the three researchers of those papers-- Madeline Walker, Jack Fenton and Vladimir Masters. Background search revealed that Madeline and Jack had gotten married and had two children Jasmine and Daniel.
It wasn't until they crossed the town border in the dead of the night that their systems pinged the Fenton children were reported as runaways-- and not just them. The local high school had shut down as children were reported missing or also runaways from their parents. Even the faculty and some parents had begun to disappear.
Those that remained were kept under strict curfew by marshal law-- the GIW had the town under their control.
Just what exactly had they stumbled upon? Could their comrades be hidden somewhere in this small midwestern town?
Their theories were proven right the following night when tapping into their communication line about the 'aggressive subject G-02' and how 'it' had managed to break some arms when it had been relocated to the Fenton's personal lab. The 'unfortunate' Agent H who'd tried to yank it by its black and white contaminated hair had gotten his nose broken for it. It was scheduled for biopsy tonight.
Batman couldn't help but taste the bile make his way up fearing/knowing who G-02 was.
His Team was right behind him in the change of plans as they made their way across town as covertly as they could; it seemed as though after finding out about G-02 (it couldn't be him, he couldn't put a name to him lest he let his fear override everything) Batman pinged on more and more of their ghost detectors.
Disabling was taking too long, loathe he admit, as they devolved to destroying as discreetly as they could.
Finally they could see the garish neon of the FentonWorks logo, the steps and door to the house were covered in ectoplasm and another familiar substance-- handmarks, clawmarks, clear signs of resistance could be made out.
And then Fentonworks went up in a flame and red and green.
Batman couldn't keep in his desperate cry. Not again! Please not again...
470 notes · View notes
hotel-casifornia · 4 months
Text
i like to think there are true crime episodes in the world of supernatural that are just dedicated to dean winchester
because like okay
he gets arrested in jericho california one/two days after halloween in 2005 and escapes custody before they really charge him for anything then he disappears
then a few months later in december of 2005 he shows up in st louis where hes pinned for the murders of two women and then the attempted murder of another, BUT hes found dead in this same womans house and then theres nothing about him for months
THEN in 2006 he gets arrested in baltimore and is charged for trespassing, grave robbery, grave desecration, murder, impersonation, identity theft etc etc and also arrested at this time is his younger brother sam who isnt charged with anything (as a side note here his brother went to stanford and was studying law, he was on track to be a lawyer a year before this) then overnight while an officer is transferring dean to st louis he escapes and that same officer is found dead on the scene by his partner - around this time sam also escapes custody
and so then they disappear for a while and later he shows up again, in milwaukee where a bank heist is going down and hes supposedly held hostage, then after the original perpetrator of the heist is shot and killed dean takes over running the heist, at that point fbi is called in and they storm the building, they find three or so dead bodies and no dean or sam and find the two escaped by impersonating people in the fbi’s swat team and dumping them in a closet having taken their clothes to blend in and get out of the building
and so they disappear again for a while until a few months later they get arrested again and are actually convicted and sent to folsom prison. they spend definitely under a week in this prison and then escape and once more disappear
then in 2008 theyre arrested again in monument colorado and its planned that theyre to be transferred to a maximum security prison in nevada but before they can be transported they supposedly die when the helicopter thats supposed to transport them explodes, a day later though the sheriffs office where they were kept is destroyed and everyone in it dies
AND THEN. there is dead silence on them for YEARS. they become myth after this, some super weird criminals who go down in infamy in online forums and chatrooms and dean winchester is known as the guy who can never stay dead.
and then. dean and sam get arrested again. a decade later. yeah theyre alive still. who wouldve guessed. what are they arrested for this time? TRYING TO KILL THE PRESIDENT.
808 notes · View notes
apomaro-mellow · 2 months
Text
Every Baby Needs a Daddy 8
Part 7
The rest of the band had gotten over their shock of the news of Eddie's sudden rut and were having a conversation about sewing or something but Steve was deep in thought.
"I'm telling you, it's both calming and not calming", Jeff said as they walked out of the venue.
Gareth adjusted his jacket. "You get all that from quilting?"
"You remember your dice obsession way back when?"
"Dude, that's all I remember from junior year."
"You guys aren't worried about Eddie?", Steve asked, interjecting.
"Why would we be worried?", Gareth asked.
"He just-", Steve paused when a couple of fans caught them between the sidewalk and the car taking them back to the hotel. It didn't seem prudent for anyone to know why Eddie would be indisposed right now. But he continued when the fans got their autographs and left. "He just went into rut without any warning."
"Yeah, but he's a grown man", Jeff said. "He can handle it."
'Handle it'. How alphas usually handled it was all Steve could think about on the way back to the hotel. Alphas of his previous tax bracket would usually have a designated partner. Whether that was someone they were married to, were promised to, or just someone they had an agreement with, it was odd for an alpha of means to spend a rut alone. So did Eddie already have someone like that?
Was that why he pushed Steve away and took off? So that he could go to them? The initial twinge of heartbreak and rejection was quickly replaced with anger. Who the hell had stolen his alpha away?
"Uhh, is Steve okay?", Grant asked, picking up on the bothered scent he was putting out.
"I need to talk to Eddie", Steve said, arms crossed.
"Chrissy's already with him in his room. She's probably making sure he's all set up", Jeff said.
Chrissy. Corroded Coffin's manager. Completely professional. But also...she was an omega...One that had known Eddie for a long time. When the car parked, Steve got out, forging ahead to the suite he and Eddie were sharing.
"Steve? Steve! We're telling you man, it's gonna be okay", Jeff tried to reassure him.
"And no one's gonna blame you", Gareth added.
That got Steve to stop in his tracks just as he was about to press the button for the elevators. "What do you mean blame me? For what?"
All three of them looked anywhere but him. Steve put his hands on his hips, not allowing them to get out of answering his question. Jeff was the one that broke.
"His rut, Steve. I think it's pretty obvious it only happened because... well, you and he, you know..."
Yes, Steve did know. It didn't take a genius to figure it out. Decades of science had proven that in certain conditions, this situation could happen. He let out a puff of laughter and ran his hands through his hair.
Honestly, if you had asked him, Steve would’ve figured that Eddie would have triggered his heat first. He’d heard the stories of having your hormones knocked out of whack by an alpha and having an off-cycle heat. So having to deal with his rut out of the blue was definitely a surprise.
Looking back on the past twenty four hours, anyone from the outside would have thought that Steve had been purposely trying to start it. But his sweet, sweet alpha and treated the situation like he was inconveniencing Steve. He had pushed Steve away, probably for his own good.
When he allowed himself to calm down and think about it, the idea that Eddie was getting his rocks off to someone else right now was just unbelievable. They had agreed. Exclusive. Which meant Eddie intended to ride this out alone.
“You don’t have to worry about Eddie”, Gareth said. “You can bunk with one of us while we wait for it to pass.”
“I’m not going to leave him”, Steve said quickly.
He pushed the elevator button and when the doors opened, he went inside. Grant and the others followed him. They stood behind Steve, trying to have a silent conversation on how to proceed.
"I can hear you guys bugging out", Steve said without turning. "It'll be fine." It wasn't even a matter of choice. His alpha needed him.
When the doors opened, he led the brigade and took his key card out. Inside, Chrissy was ending a call and Eddie was nowhere to be seen. She frowned a little at Steve.
"You shouldn't be here."
"I'm here to help Eddie", Steve said.
She looked disappointed at the band behind him, as if they were supposed to keep him away before giving Steve her attention again.
"Look, Steve, I know you're nice. But it's a liability thing. You could get hurt and Eddie's a public figure. Or maybe you'll use this to baby trap him, I don't know. But I can't let you use my friend that way."
Steve let out a hiss at the accusation. He had to remind himself and his omega that Eddie wasn't actually his alpha, that they weren't mated. She was completely in her rights as a friend and manager to protect her friend.
"Eddie won't hurt me. Chrissy, you know that stereotype about alphas during rut is nothing but BS. And I'm on birth control, so no pups are coming out of me any time soon."
"Baby, Chrissy", Eddie called out as he came out of the bedroom.
Steve ran up to him but Eddie grabbed his hands, keeping him at arms length. Steve frowned, but understood. They never really discussed what to do if one of them went into their cycles. But Eddie was still of a clear mind. They had time to discuss it now.
"Do you trust him?", Chrissy asked.
"With my signed copy of Lord of the Rings", Eddie smiled.
Steve's brow rose. "By Tolkien?"
"No, by McKellen. Which is better. The thing is, I don't trust myself around you while I'm like this."
Steve pouted a bit and let go of Eddie's hands, turning back to the rest of the group. "Do you mind giving us some privacy? I promise, if he turns me away, I'll come to one of your rooms."
"Text me before you guys get too....you know...", Chrissy said. "We can make accommodations."
"Will do", Steve said as he walked over to the couch while they left him and Eddie alone. Once they were, Steve patted the space next to him. Eddie came over, but only sat on the far opposite side.
“Angel, you shouldn’t be here. I’m not safe.”
Steve rolled his eyes. “Eddie, you’re a pre-rut alpha. Not an insatiable lust monster.”
“But we never talked about this…you doing this for me, being my-m-my-”
“Shh”, Steve put a finger to his lips. “You’ve been taking such good care of me. I just wanna return the favor.” Then he let out an exaggerated sigh and turned away, standing up “But if you don’t want me here-”
He heard a loud thump that was probably the from Eddie rushing and falling off the couch to stop him. He felt Eddie hug him from behind, gentle, like he was afraid of breaking him.
"I want to. Christ alive, I want to. But I...what if I'm too much? What if I cross the line?"
Steve turned in his arms and kissed his nose. "Then we need to draw a line in the sand first."
Eddie nodded. "Okay. Okay, I can do that." His hands were already toeing the line, inching under Steve's shirt. "Maybe we have this conversation with some space between us?"
Steve conceded to that. He didn't want to get distracted either. So they sat back down on the couch, apart but not too far apart.
"Sooo, what am I allowed to do?", Eddie asked.
"Anything", Steve breathed out before composing himself. Eddie's scent was getting stronger but he had to not think with his pussy for once. "I mean, just what we've done before. All of that is fine."
"What if I wanna bite you?", Eddie swallowed.
"You know you're allowed to do that", Steve smirked. He was still sporting some of the marks from earlier.
"Even if I wanted to...", Eddie's eyes went to his neck. "Once I'm in rut, I'll really want it. I'll wanna make you mine. In any way I can."
'Don't think with your cunt, don't think with your cunt. Make a rational decision-god our babies would be so beautiful-but we're not ready to be mated-he's such a good alpha, perfect alpha, could raise our pups good, keep them safe and-'
"We can, um", Steve cleared his throat and looked around for something. He got up, just to get some space and also think of something that would keep him from getting a mating bite tonight even though that was all he wanted. He saw something on the bed and went right for it.
"Perfect!", he exclaimed, returning with the black bandana Eddie had been wearing during the concert. It was saturated with his scent. Steve folded it to a rectangular band and then tied it around his neck. "This is off limits", he said. "And your alpha brain won't fight because-"
"Because it already smells like you're mine. Sweet thing, you're a genius", Eddie beamed. He got off the couch and pulled Steve in his arms, kissing him sweetly. He took in a deep breath and released a full body shudder. "It's working already."
"Oh yeah?", Steve couldn't help looking smug.
"Mhm. It's like you've already got my bite." Eddie started to kiss at his jaw. "And it's making me wonder why I haven't got you pupped up yet."
Steve could've swooned but he had to keep his wits about him for as long as he could. "There's one more thing."
"Hm?", Eddie looked up, his eyes were already starting to get the moony look.
"You're not going to be entirely yourself. I know that. So like I said, I'm gonna take care of you. That means you listen to me. I'm in charge, okay?"
Eddie nodded rapidly. "You're in charge. Got it."
"Good alpha", Steve stroked his hair. With any luck, the tour schedule wouldn't be messed up too badly. Alpha ruts typically lasted around 3-5 days. It would've been longer if he had to go solo. There was the idea still being passed around that an alpha's rut would end when they were convinced their partner had conceived, but Steve wasn't sure how he was supposed to trick Eddie's alpha into thinking that.
But the important part was that they'd decided what to do and Steve was taking him to bed.
"You know, the guys think that I triggered your rut", Steve said.
"And don't you look proud", Eddie grinned, lying in bed next to him. He frowned and sniffed at the comforter. "Doesn't smell right. Doesn't smell like us."
Us. Steve felt himself get wet. Well, wetter. He was going to be Eddie's omega. At least while his rut was going on.
"Do you know what I was thinking, while I was watching you on stage earlier?", Steve asked.
Eddie swallowed and shook his head. Steve pushed him onto his back and sat on his lap. Eddie looked perfect under him and between his legs like this.
"I was thinking about how sexy you looked. How everybody couldn't take their eyes off you, but you were only looking at me." Steve started a slow grind and watched as Eddie's eyes darkened. "And how I wanted to ride you all night long."
Part 9
Tag Team
@awkotaco24 @lingeringmirth @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @tartarusknight @velocitytimes2 @mrsjellymunson @trashcanniballecter @paintsplatteredandimperfect @a-little-unsteddie  @sllooney  @starman-jpg  @oxidantdreamboat  @xxbottlecapx   @newtstabber @tiny-enthusiast  @desidrarry-wolfstarshipper @y4r3luv @hello-fellow-nerds  @anonymousbandgirl @alyelf @potato-of-the-lord  @beckkthewreck  @croatoan-like-its-hot @pluto-pepsi @abstractnaturaldisaster @ellietheasexylibrarian @eyesofshinigami @dragonmama76 @marklee-blackmore @greatwerewolfbeliever @chaosgremlinmunson @blackpanzy @millseyes-world @batxsignalsx @lilpomelito @goosesister @libraryofgage @aresthelostboy @royjaimie4eva
356 notes · View notes
nerdpoe · 10 months
Text
DC x DP au
Ra’s successfully clones Tim, ages the clone up to Tim’s current age, but the clone won’t fucking wake up. There’s brain activity, but the Lazarus solution he’d been shoving into the body seemed to prevent it from having a soul, so to speak.
He makes a deal with a demon, and manages to piss the demon off.
The demon, feeling offended, decides to play By The Letter of the Law.
Okay, sure. He’ll shove a soul in the body. A strong soul, per the deal. But Ra’s, you never specified if the soul had to be strictly human, which the Ghost King very much was not anymore. Annnnnd maybe the demon kinda also felt like the High King of Ghosts could use a break after three hundred years of non-stop bureaucracy.
So a very surprised Danny, who had followed his good buddy Beelzebub and that asshole had fucking promised him an adventure, wakes up in a human body. Again. And he isn’t a halfa, he’s just human with ghost powers, and he feels a pull to obey this obviously evil guy in green? Also there’s like ecto-contaminated water everywhere and that’s weird.
The dude just ordered him to Gotham so like, sure. Danny’d take the fuckin get out of jail free card, cities were easy to vanish in.
Danny escapes, Tim finds out he exists, and they hatch a plan.
A trail is laid out, spanning decades, and the pieces are put in place.
Danny moves into Wayne Manor, Tim stays in his penthouse, and they randomly trade places.
The plan?
According to every single legal paper in existence, Daniel Janus Drake and Timothy Jackson Drake have always been identical twins. All online info has been doctored, including photos. Bruce’s adoption papers have been copied and altered, making it so that he adopted Daniel as well as Timothy.
Both Danny and Tim have the same training (thank you CADMUS tech for the brain download tech) and the same memories (at least concerning Tim’s life). They both know how to fight, and the only difference is that one of them is a meta, which was included on the documents they made.
They divide up the time with the Batfam from Tim’s memories, deciding which event they’d say was Danny and which was Tim that had attended. 
All they have to do is switch when convenient and cover for each other, and see how long it takes for the Batfam to realize that there’s fucking two of them, and watch the Batfam tear themselves apart arguing over whether or not they’d always known who was Danny and who was Tim.
Cass figures it out first, of course.
1K notes · View notes
pandoraslxna · 1 year
Text
Bittersweet revenge
adult Lo‘ak x Quaritch‘s daughter reader
Tumblr media
Words: 3.7k
Summary: Ever since the day Lo‘ak had found out that you’ve chosen to rescue your father, the man that basically murdered Neteyam and made his whole life hell, he was out for revenge.
Warnings: explicit smut, minors dni, dark!Lo‘ak, human reader, aged up characters, degradation kink, non-con / dub-con, p in v, handcuffs, vaginal fingering, forced orgasm, size difference, belly bulge, angst
Tumblr media
Fifteen years have passed since the battle at the three brothers rock. Fifteen years, since you’ve chosen your fathers side over those of your, more or less, adoptive Na’vi family. It’s been so many years since you’ve last seen any of them, the people you’ve basically spent your whole childhood with, like a second family. No, like your only family, since you didn’t even know your father was (somehow) still alive.
It wasn’t really him, you knew that. He was a clone. A recombinant soldier. The only thing he and your father had in common were his memories, but that didn’t really matter to you. What mattered was the way he treated you. To him, you were his daughter. No if’s and but's. Quaritch was the only thing that came closest to a real father to you in this world and even though you loved the Sully‘s, it was the only right thing to do. You belonged to him and his people more than you belonged to the Na‘vi.
It’s been so many years, yet you don’t even need to look twice to recognize the familiar Na‘vi that was standing right in front of you.
Originally, you’ve only planned to take a walk. Get some samples for Dr. Garvin‘s study about Panopyras while you’re at it. You didn’t even realize how far away from bridgehead city you’ve wandered off to, until it was too late. You’ve mindlessly walked past the kill zone and into the forest, further than you were allowed. Thankfully, after growing up around here, you knew these forests enough to protect yourself from most danger. What you didn’t expect though, was that any Na‘vi would dare to come this close to the border of forest that lead straight to bridgehead‘s kill zone.
But of course, this one did. So typical of him.
You instantly knew that it was him. Lo‘ak. You hadn’t seen him in over a decade, but you knew that it was him without a doubt. And you could tell that he knew it’s you, too. You could see it in his eyes.
"You’ve grown", he simply says, his features not giving away anything. You finally exhale the breathe that you didn’t even realize you were holding, relieved that he was the first to break this unbearable silence, after staring at each other for several minutes. What do you even say to someone, years after you’ve left them so abruptly? And when you had parted ways, it wasn’t in a good way. You had left as a traitor.
But he was one to talk about growing up. You remember the times when he was just barely an inch taller than you, when you teased him about how you would overtake him one day and how he was so small and thin. Oh were you wrong about that. How tall was he now, you wondered. Nine, maybe even ten feet? He was probably taller than the recombinant clone of your father, which was insane to even think about. His body was lean, wide shoulders and a small waist and he looked so much like Jake now. But he still wears his hair the same, two braids loosely dangling in front of his face, the sides of his head shaved clean.
Though his braids are longer now, at least by eight inches. He must’ve spent a whole while longer with the metkayina after you had left– the clans infamous tattoos decorating his chest and parts of his stomach were a clear inidcation of it.
The way he carried himself had changed too. He seems so confident and reserved as he stands there, his features stern and serious and you can’t help but wonder where that happy, curious and playful teenager you‘ve known for all your childhood had went. The one you had always loved from the bottom of your heart, for being exactly that. Did he hide his true self because he was cautious of you? You definitely wouldn’t blame him.
"It’s nice to see you, Lo‘ak", you greet him with a smile, genuinely happy, because you thought you would never see him again. At the same time, it made you wonder what he was even doing out here. Did the Sully‘s finally decide to come back to their home, return to the Omatikaya clan? Or was he just here for a visit? Nevertheless, what was he doing out here? The Na‘vi usually never came this close to the kill zone. You knew that it was strictly forbidden, when you had still lived among the omatikaya clan.
Lo‘aks eyes carefully scanned over your much smaller frame, eyes barely moving as he did. He was taking in every inch of change on your appearance, just like you did. But he was much more subtle about it. If you didn’t know him so well, you probably wouldn’t even have noticed. You couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking about right now. Was he angry? Was he happy to see you again? Did he even care? Your questions were surprisingly answered just shortly after, when he finally moved from his spot and approached you slowly.
"I’ve been thinking about you ever since", Lo‘ak confesses, with his eyes still fixed on yours. You can’t help the way your eyebrows rise at his statement.
"About… me?", you question him as if you weren’t sure you heard him right. Lo‘ak shakes his head and chuckles, a low, throaty sound that almost sounds a little sinister to you. "Oh you have no idea…"
You swallow thickly, meanwhile he steps even closer to you. The eye contact that he was holding with you, was almost too intense to bear, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to shy away. You felt uneasy. Like some prey that’s face to face with its predator and if you would dare to look away, he would eat you alive.
"I’ve been thinking about you. You and Quaritch, to be more specific", Lo‘ak says and instantly, you feel your blood run cold, "Been thinking about how I can make daddy’s life hell, just like he did with mine. I’ve been thinking about the things that mean most to him. And you know what I’ve realized?"
You blink at him, like a deer caught in headlights, "W-What?"
"There’s nothing", he chuckles, "Nothing matters to him, nothing really means anything to him."
You could almost hear your own heartbeat pound in your ears when his hand unexpectedly, but slowly, reaches out for you. Your eyes widen, scared of whatever his intentions might be, but then he simply tugs a strand of hair behind your ear. With a half hearted smile on his face, he continues, "Nothing, but you. You’re the one thing he cares about."
"Lo‘ak what d—", but before you could finish asking him what he was even talking about, you find yourself flat on the ground. Lo‘ak crouches over you, pins you down, with your front pressed flat against the ground. You give a yelp of surprise, instinctively struggling against his hold but it’s pointless. He’s always been superior to your strength.
You could feel him shift behind you and then he binds something around your wrists, tying them together so tight that it almost hurt. Almost.
"Lo‘ak please d-don’t hurt me! I swear I’ll tell you anything, everything that I know, but please don’t hurt me!"
"Shh, it’s okay", he coos, "I could never hurt you, sweet thing." His words were meant to soothe you, yet they send your heart racing. Your anxiety grows worse underneath your skin, once you feel the dull side of what you could only assume was a knife and then the sharp sound of fabric ripping, as he cut through the seams of your pants. Next was your slip and then your shirt. He cut everything off that you wore, leaving you bare and exposed before him. You felt humiliated. A cold breeze of air made you shiver as you laid there, not even daring to breathe.
With his hands on your hip, Lo‘ak guides you, makes you curve your spine and wedges your thighs apart with his knee. His hands are warm on your skin, rough palms gliding over the underside of your thighs and then knead the plump of your ass. Blame it on the adrenaline rushing through your veins like some drug, but it felt strangely good. Still, you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting him know that. You trembled at the feeling of his fingers digging into your flesh. A low hum, coming from deep inside his chest reached your ears when his hands wandered further down the roundness of your bottom. With his hands on either side of your thighs, he spread your soft folds apart using his thumbs. Instantly, you tug against your restraints. The cold forest air brushing against your most private parts suddenly made you very aware of the situation you were in.
"Lo‘ak wait–"
But the Na‘vi only chuckled. Glancing at him over your shoulder, you’re met with the same pair of eyes that always looked at you so adoringly, so full of love. But now he was just looking at you like you were prey. Like a cat watching a mouse that was caught in a trap. Like he wanted to consume you.
Lo’ak brings his hands down between your thighs, cupping your sex to get a feel of how wet you are and you inhale sharply. His long, slender digits glide through your folds easily and he hums, "So wet for me already, hm? Did I get you all excited like this? Or did you just miss me so much?"
You hiss when not only one, but two of his fingers then slide into you with little to no effort. "What would your daddy think, if he could see you like this? You’ve grown into such a filthy girl", Lo‘ak says lowly, his words mocking you and you squeeze your eyes shut as if you couldn’t hear him like this. But they fly right open again when he starts to pump his digits in and out of you. His pace is fast, merciless even, and you squirm underneath him. He curls them as if he was beckoning to you, rapidly hitting that spongey spot that made your eyes roll to the back of your head.
It was embarrassing how fast Lo‘ak could turn you into a trembling, whimpering mess. The squelching sounds he expertly worked out of your pussy only added further to your humiliation. At this pace, it was impossible not to come. And Lo‘ak knew it. It was like he needed to draw that orgasm out of you, like his life depended on it.
You could feel that familiar, addicting, tension building up in your core, stealing the very air from your lungs as you moaned and gasped with your cheek shoved against the mossy ground. Lo’ak wasn’t gentle as he helped you to your release. He straight up pushed you over the edge with a pinch to your sensitive clit, rolling it with his thumb until your legs were shaking. But he didn’t let you ride it out, didn’t let you relish in the feeling of your orgasm because he draws away when you’re still at your high.
You can’t help but whine when he leaves you empty, with your walls clenching around nothing, missing the feeling of his rough fingers scissoring you open.
Looking over your shoulder, you watch him flip his loincloth to the side to reveal his hard cock. He was big– like, really big. Definitely matching the rest of him, in size and color. You didn’t know what scared you most, the thought of taking his entire length or having his girth split you open. You could literally see it throb in his hands as he stroked himself a few times. Meanwhile, his eyes were still fixed on yours, like he was in some sort of staring contest that he was about to win. He seemingly took great pleasure in watching you swallow thickly by the sight of him.
"You know", he begins as he then lines his cock up with your slick hole, "I used to have a huge crush on you when we were kids."
You feel the head of it, thick and warm, nudge between your soft lips and then prod at your entrance. You close your eyes shut and try your best to mentally prepare yourself, but it’s all for nothing when he finally pushes the tip in, letting his cock sink into the tight heat of your cunt. He’s rewarded with a high pitched whine falling from your plumb lips as you tense underneath him.
"I’d come home and rub one out whenever we hung out. Always hugged you a little tighter when you said goodbye so I could imagine you pressed against me, all hot and desperate. Ha. Just like right now, isn’t that funny?" He was saying this so nonchalantly, like he wasn’t just burying himself balls deep inside your pussy.
When his pelvis finally makes contact with the soft swell of your ass, he groans and let’s his head fall back against his neck. For a moment he stays like this, just relishing in the feeling of your soft walls fluttering around his cock.
"Fuck", Lo‘ak breathes out before he looks down at you again, "Just as tight as I imagined. Always knew you’d feel so fucking good."
He let out a grunt as he pulled back slightly, before burying himself deep again, his dick knocking on your cervix like an iron hammer. You choke on a whimper and then he sets his pace, fast and deep strokes, like he was aiming to fuck the very soul out of you. You were so tiny compared to him, it was a miracle that you were even physically able to take all of him and with the way he plunged his cock into you, it felt like he was already in your stomach. The sounds he knocked out of your throat, every time his pelvis made contact with your ass, were straight up pornographic. With his hands secured on your hips, he pulled you back to meet his thrusts and it made the whole thing so much worse. Or better? At this point, you didn’t even know anymore.
Everything was too much –too good, too deep, too fast, too rough. All you could do was take it. Just lay there, with your face shoved uncomfortably against the ground and your back painfully arched and take whatever he was giving to you. It was like he used fifteen years full of pent up hate and anger and the unresolved need for revenge and took it all out on you. Because anger was everything he had left. Because anger was better than tears, better than grief and better than guilt. It was so much easier to handle.
Meanwhile, you felt that tension building again. You feel it crawl under your skin, a warmth spreading through your core and you can’t help but push yourself back against Lo‘ak. You wanted– no, you needed to cum. You find yourself having no control over this, just letting yourself go because it feels too damn good.
"Shit, are you coming again? Feels good, right?", you hear Lo‘ak chuckle behind you, squeezing the flesh of your hips a little harder when you clench around his cock, "Yeah, so fucking good, we should’ve done this sooner."
It's a buildup of tension that arches your back and curls your toes and just when you think you can't take it anymore, something snaps. When you come, it’s like a release. It pulses throughout your body and you moan, loud and lewd and you should probably feel a little embarrassed too, but you couldn’t care less. Not when Lo’ak was fucking you through it so good, until it was on the verge of overstimulation.
"There you go, fuuck yes", he groans, slumped over your trembling frame so his mouth was close enough to your ear that you could hear him breathe and pant, "You sound so fucking cute when you come, you know that? All these noises just for me. I‘m flattered."
You hum in response, whether you agreed to his words or not, you didn’t even know. You feel like a warm puddle of goo when he suddenly pulls out of you. You’re slick between your legs, wincing when he flips you over and onto your back so you were facing him. Laying on your own arms, that were still bound behind your back, like this was uncomfortable, but you didn’t had nearly enough brain capacity to care about that right now.
You probably looked a little worn out, your eyes half lidded and barely focused until Lo‘ak pinched the soft of you thighs and you let out a small hiss.
"Hey", he chuckled above you when you finally looked up at him, "don’t pass out on me now."
Almost effortlessly, he pushes his thick cock back inside you. You felt full. So incredibly full, as he slid himself past your sensitive entrance. The last few inches of his length were introduced with a harsh thrust that punched the air from your lungs with a grunt.
"You feel that?", one of his hands comes to caress the swell of your lower abdomen, where his cock was nestled deep in your core and created this very visible bulge, "I’m all the way up here, see?"
Your eyes widen when he uses his thumb to press down on it, before he started moving his hips again. It seemingly bought him pleasure, feeling his cock move underneath your flesh. He was transfixed by the sight too.
Putting just a little more force behind his thrusts, he enjoyed how your pussy tightened around him, your body struggling to take all of him in this new position. Thankfully, you were so, so incredibly wet. So much so, that your slick begins to leak out and dribble down the curve of your bottom. His heavy balls smack against the slickness flowing out of you, creating more of these obscene sounds that filled both of your ears.
"Hmh, that’s it. Want you to feel me— fuck, so deep inside that little pussy you'll still feel me there for days."
"Lo‘ak", you draw his name out into a mewl, almost as if you were begging. But begging for what? You had no idea what you were even begging for. Maybe you just wanted to say his name, taste it on your tongue. "Lo‘ak", you moan it again. It’s been so long since you’ve said it out loud, so many years. "Lo‘ak, Lo‘ak", you chant it with every thrust of his hips, mix it between loud moans and whimpers.
"Again", he pants, his breathing becoming more rapid and heavier than before, "Say it again."
"Lo’ak! Lo’ak! F-Fuck, Lo’ak!", you moan his name like a prayer, again and again. Once for every year that you had spent without him. Once for every time you cried yourself to sleep because you missed him so much. Once for every time you found yourself laying in your bed, hands pushed past the waistband of your pyjama pants as you played with yourself, with him on your mind. "Lo‘ak! Lo‘ak!"
His rhythm seemingly begins to falter, like your words affected him enough to draw him closer to the edge of his orgasm. But he wasn’t the only one who was close yet again, with the way your walls were clamping down on his cock. You feel his pace change, not necessarily slower but his thrusts become shorter, deeper.
"I’m gonna cum. Gonna cum and fill you up and you will walk all the way back home with my cum dripping down your thighs and shit— I hope your daddy sees. Let him know it was me, that I did it. I fucked his precious daughter, ruined her for every other men", Lo‘ak groaned the words before he slumped over. His face was hovering over yours, just inches apart and for a moment you think, you hope, that he would kiss you. He’s was so close. So incredibly close, you wouldn’t even need to lift your head, just a little tilt would be enough—
But that kiss never comes.
What finally brings you to fall apart, was the sudden feeling of his warm cum flooding your insides. You whimper his name, one last time before he stills his movements. Your walls spasm around him and he watches your eyes roll to the back of your head. He’s silent, just watching you, until you’ve come down from your high.
When you finally open your eyes again, you’re struggling to catch your breathe, while he seemed completely unfazed.
You blink a few times before you realize that his mimic had returned to this cold, untouchable and emotionless face. The one you would’ve never thought you’d ever see on him. On him, that boy that you would’ve described as the most joyful person in your life not long ago.
But the words, that then leave your lips, are the complete opposite of that. You cringe at little once they had slipped out, yet it was impossible to hold them back any longer. Where he had all this hate, pent up over the last fifteen years, you had nothing but love. For him.
It filled your heart, painfully even. It was like your feelings, the ones you had suppressed for so long, had suddenly erupted like lava from a volcano. And they hurt quiet the same way. Burned your throat and then your tongue, once they had spilled.
"Lo‘ak I… you know I love you. I always have."
He looks at you. A second passes and then another. You wince when he pulls himself out of you, leaving you completely exposed before him. The sensation of his still warm cum seeping out of your overused hole was uncomfortable and you couldn’t help but close your thighs and press them together tightly in an attempt to keep it from flowing out. Meanwhile, Lo’ak raises to his full height, straightening his loincloth to cover his privat parts again.
You look at him with big, round eyes, a faint blush still lingering on your face as you wait for him to finally respond. Or at least untie your arms as they were starting to ache horribly.
"L-Lo‘ak?", you call out for him softly.
Warmth spreads in your chest when he crouches down next to you, one of his hands coming to caress your soft cheek. You lean into it almost instinctively and right when you thought he would either respond or untie you, help you up and redress… he draws away completely.
"No. You don’t."
Tumblr media
2K notes · View notes
leafsandstarlight · 7 months
Text
Never Considered - Cassian x Reader
Request: located here :) Description: While you and Cassian have been best friends for centuries, neither of you have considered any potential romance between you. When his instincts kick in while sparring, you start to reconsider. Warnings: brief mentions of blood; character receives minor injury, mentions of previous misogyny Author's Notes: thank you so much for this lovely request!!! I adore Cassian & this was so fluffy and fun to write! ❤️ Word Count: approx. 1300 words
Tumblr media
The Lord of Bloodshed had been one of your closest friends for as long as you could remember.
To the Illyrian warriors who served him and the enemies he fought on the battlefield, he was a powerful warrior, a fierce commander.  To you, however, he was a lovable goofball and very capable sparring partner. 
The two of you had found each other during the War when Cassian had been separated from his brothers – shoved into a different legion to serve as a foot soldier despite his immense power. 
When your legion, a conglomeration of various High Fae volunteers from different courts, made camp next to Cassian’s, the other Illyrian warriors made it clear that they thought you were beneath them because you were a female.  They despised that you were fighting beside them, finding your femininity a disgrace to the battlefield.  To them, it did not matter that you were a capable warrior, that you were fighting towards the same cause.  They tormented you whenever they could with crude jokes and unshielded threats. 
Cassian, however, always had your back. 
The only time you ever saw him flaunt his even siphons, the immense power he wielded, was when he flashed them as a warning to three Illyrian males who were harassing you as you passed their campfire.  When you flashed him a soft, thankful smile, Cassian just nodded, somehow knowing that you felt just as alone as he did.
Cassian gave you something the other males on the battlefield refused to: respect.  He saw past your femininity, your female fae body, and treated you as an equal.
The two of you gravitated towards each other as though drawn together by fate. 
You shared the same sense of humor.  The same deep-seated loyalty.   In all the years you had known him, you had grown to trust him more than anyone else you had ever met.
And though Mor and Rhysand insinuated that the two of you should become more than friends on multiple occasions – typically while there was too much wine in their systems to keep their thoughts to themselves – the two of you had always laughed off the idea.  There was no deep-seated unresolved sexual tension between you, no hidden crush. 
You were just best friends, simple as that.
As the morning sun spread over Velaris, bathing you in decadent warmth, you thrust your sword at Azriel.  The two of you were sparring while Cassian coached you through new movements and critiqued your footwork. 
Azriel blocked your hit easily, though you felt some sense of victory given that his brow twitched ever so slightly as he focused on your attack – the only sign you would get that you were a worthy opponent.
“Nice block, Az.” Cassian’s voice rang through the open air above the House of Wind as he stood, arms-crossed, watching your sparring with intent focus.
Azriel’s sword clanked against yours, and the Shadowsinger forced you back, your feet carrying you backwards in the ring.  You scowled, loosing a frustrated sigh as you tried to regain control.  While you were a fine swordsman, the two Illyrians you trained with always had the upper hand when it came to brute strength.
You watched as Azriel drew his sword back, preparing another strike, and you ducked quickly, practicing the new dodge Cassian had taught you.  You were almost successful, but Azriel picked up on your movement easily.  He knew what you were doing, exactly what your next steps would be.  He moved his sword, readjusting before you could even plant your next blow. 
As he did, his blade just barely nicked your bicep. 
“Fuck,” you cried softly, dropping your sword and taking a step back as your hand came up to cup your bleeding wound.  It wasn’t a deep cut – merely a shallow laceration that would heal within a few moments thanks to your High Fae blood.
“Sorry, I didn’t–”  Azriel started to apologize, moving towards you to inspect the wound, but he was quickly cut off by a low growl. 
Before you could even process what was happening, Cassian was in front of you, his large frame shielding you from Azriel’s advance.  Cassian let out a loud snarl, baring his teeth at his brother who raised his hands in surrender.  Azriel looked between you and Cassian for a long moment, clearly unsure what was happening.
“Woah, big boy, I’m fine,” you said with a laugh, your brow slightly furrowed in confusion at Cassian’s reaction.  You were a warrior, a damn good one at that, and it was little more than a scratch.
Cassian barely moved; his hands clenched into fists as he glared at Azriel.
“Cass,” you called out cautiously, observing the tension that thrummed through his muscular body.  You put a gentle hand on his shoulder, trying to reassure him.  “I’m alright.  It was just a scratch.”
Cassian seemed to relax ever so slightly at your words, at the sound of your voice.
Slowly, Cassian turned, not shaking your hand off his frame.  When his eyes met yours, the wind rushed out of your lungs, a deep, innate recognition spreading over you.  As Cassian’s warm brown eyes locked on yours, something hidden unlocked in your soul. 
Mate. 
Your body seemed to understand what it all meant, what Cassian was to you before your brain could fully process what was happening.  Your knees begged to buckle under the weight of the realization, your feet begging you to get closer to Cassian, to touch.
One look at Cassian’s face, at the disbelief and wonder that spread over his features, told you that he was thinking the exact same thing.
Cassian took a step forward, cupping your cheek in his large, calloused hand. 
“I had no idea.  Did you?”  He asked, his voice husky yet soft in the morning air.
You smiled at him in astonishment, shaking your head.  “I had no idea.”
“Fuck, me neither,” Cassian breathed, letting out a soft laugh.  You had always loved his laugh – it was sweet and smooth like caramel as it rumbled through his muscular chest.  “Should we kiss?” 
His gaze was warm, genuine as he smiled down at you, and it made you wish that he had asked you those words a long time ago.  You had never thought of it before, what his lips would feel like on yours.  But now, you were desperate to find out.
You beamed up at him and nodded, just the slightest movement of your head and then Cassian was on you.  His warm lips pressed against yours gently, brushing against them with the softest pressure.  The feeling tore a blissful sigh from your lips as you kissed him back, lost in the taste of his lips.
Cassian’s lips felt like coming home, like everything within you had finally settled into place with one single touch of his lips to yours.
When Cassian pulled back, he stared down at you with a mix of awe and unadulterated affection.  You wished you could capture that look, that feeling, and holding in your heart forever.  But then again, you hoped there would be more kisses, more moments just like this one.
“You’re telling me we could have been doing this for centuries?”  Cassian exclaimed, a wide grin plastered to his face, and you couldn’t help but pull him back in for another kiss.
The Lord of Bloodshed had been one of your closest friends for as long as you could remember, but now, you had a feeling that he was going to be much, much more.
Tumblr media
@lizziesfirstwife @waytoomanyteenagefeels @vellichor01 @bubybubsters @secret-ly-here @alovelywriters @unabashedhologrammilkshake
600 notes · View notes
fandomxpreferences · 1 year
Text
I'll Always Be Here
Masterlist
Pairing: JJ Maybank x Routledge!Sister, Rafe Cameron x Routledge!Sister (reader and characters are all over 18)
TW:18+, mention of domestic violence (nothing graphic), mentions of mental abuse, violence, mentions of blood, mentions of a gun, angst
Summary: JJ Maybank has been your best friend and keeper for as long as you can remember. So what happens when you get caught up with Kook prince Rafe Cameron and he discovers its the not the fairytale it seems.
Word Count:4.6k
Tumblr media
Despite popular belief, JJ is a smart man. He may be the hot head of the group, always coming up with harebrained plans, but he's extremely intuitive and observant. He's been your best friend for years. 
It's kind of a given, seeaing as you're John B's little sister. You're only a year younger, and for as long as JJ has known his friend, you've always been by his side. Even when John B whined about having to bring his baby sister, JJ has always made sure you had a place in the group. 
He's always made you feel like you belong and took you under his wing. Which is exactly why he knows something is wrong. He can read you like a book, and he sees the signs before anyone else, even your brother. 
He wasn't happy when you got tangled up with Rafe Cameron and tried to warn you that there's a darker side to the aggressive kook. You insisted that you knew, but that he's never been anything but gentle towards you. 
It's such a cliche, falling for the man who's an asshole to everyone except you. It made you feel special, like you were the only one who got to see the real Rafe. You were young, barely 18, and naive. Oh, how wrong you had been. 
You've been under Rafe's thumb for just over a year now, and the switch in your personality has been mind-boggling. JJ knew something was wrong when you blew off your own birthday party at the Chateau, but the rest of the Pogues wrote it off as you getting caught up in the kook lifestyle. 
They had even been mad, spouting off about how you thought you were too good for the cut now. Too good for them. JJ knew better though, and that's when he started paying closer attention. 
You all but live at the Camerons now, only coming home to retrieve more clothing. Though, there's not much left for you to take at this point. 
JJ saw you for the first time in three months at Midsummers. You briefly locked eyes with him before quickly averting your gaze and slinking into your boyfriend's side. His eyes raked over you, taking in your small appearance. 
He didn't miss the way Rafe was gripping you a little too tight, or the way that you only spoke when spoken to. The expensive fabric of the dress clung to your body and JJ almost thought his mind was playing tricks on him when he noticed a yellow bruise in the last stages of healing on your inner arm. 
He thought it must be the lighting, or that maybe you just bumped into something. The gnawing feeling in his gut screamed otherwise, but he pushed it aside against his better judgment. You would come to him if you needed help. Right?
You avoided him for the entire night and he tried to ignore the sinking feeling as you were pulled inside by Rafe. 
He sees you around town a little more after that, always in passing. If you see him you don't acknowledge it, but that doesn't stop him from staring at you every time. 
He notices that you're dressed differently now, clad in designer clothing that looks stiff and out of place on your frame. Your hair is neatly styled; soft and void of its usual charms and braids, a stark contrast to the usual messy tangles caused by saltwater and surfing.
Your makeup is perfectly applied, and it causes him to frown. In almost two decades of knowing you, he's never once seen you with more than mascara and lipgloss. You look full kook now, and it makes his stomach lurch. 
You're playing a role that Rafe has molded you into, he knows that much. He knows without a shadow of a doubt that this isn't your doing. You've always preferred a bikini top and comfy jean shorts, usually covered up by one of his t-shirts that swallow you whole. 
He tries to tell John B, hoping he can get some intel from Sarah. The younger Cameron has written off her older brother, claiming that he's a psycho. When he pries for more details and discovers that Rafe tried to strangle her, he got into a fight with John B. 
"You're telling me that you're okay with her shacking up with the man that tried to kill his own sister? That doesn't set off any alarm bells?" JJ shouts and John B just sighs. 
"She's her own person, JJ. I can't control her." 
JJ stares at him in disbelief, disgusted that he's so pussy whipped he's disregarding his own sister's safety. 
"What about when he tries the same thing on Y/N? Will you care then? You haven't noticed the way that Rafe has completely erased her identity?" He screams, shoving the Routledge back. 
Kie steps in and pulls him away, her eyes sad as she stares up at the blonde. 
"I know you're worried, JJ. I am too. But we don't have any evidence, maybe it's time to accept she's just changed."
JJ scoffs and backs away, sending his found family daggers before racing off on his dirt bike.
He tried to reach out to you since then, only to find your number had been disconnected. He only tried to approach you once, but the fear in your eyes stopped him cold in his tracks. He knew that look, it had stared back at him in the mirror more times than he could count. 
He also knew that trying anything would only make it worse, so he let you go. 
Fast forward to tonight, it seems the entirety of OBX is at the kegger. Everyone is too wrapped up in their own shit to notice you arrive with Rafe, but JJ spots you immediately.
It's like he has a sixth sense that tingles whenever you're around, alerting his mind to your whereabouts before his eyes even land on you. 
You look miserable, the thick layers of makeup doing nothing to hide your sunken eyes and exhaustion. He fights with himself internally for a few minutes, debating whether he should talk to you or not. 
He doesn't want you to suffer because of him, but it's been so long since he's heard your voice or felt your arms around him, and every cell in his body is aching to be near you. He finally says fuck it, and his feet carry him forward on a mission. 
He stops a few feet in front of you, and your eyes shoot up to look at him in shock. He smiles down at you but falters slightly when you don't seem the least bit happy to see him. 
"Hey, Peach." 
He notices your lips quirk slightly at his nickname for you before they fall back into a flat line. You'd earned the moniker when you were sixteen. JJ got you drunk for the first time on Peach Schnapps and you had made an absolute fool of yourself before throwing up in the bonfire. 
Ever since then, you couldn't escape the embarrassing memory, though it never really bothered you. It was one of the best nights of your life, and your heart squeezes a bit at the thought. 
You give a short nod and he doesn't miss the way your hands wring together obsessively or how your knee is bouncing rapidly. He doesn't get a chance to say anything else before Rafe speaks up. 
"Well, well, well. If it isn't the trash king. Fuck off, Maybank. She doesn't want to talk to you." 
There's a cruel mocking tone to his voice and JJ's hands clench at his side before he smirks and turns to the kook. 
"Funny, I don't remember speaking to you. If she doesn't want to see me, she can tell me herself."
He's casual as he says it, but there's an underlying bite that sends a chill down your spine. Your eyes dart between the two men in front of you, unsure of what to do. 
You can see Rafe start to tense the longer you stay silent, anger coursing through him at your reluctance to tell your best friend to go away. You know it's in your best interest, but you can't bring yourself to say the words. 
You feel bile rise up your throat, and with each passing second you're painfully aware that this is only going to get worse for you. 
Rafe turns to you and you recognize the fire in his eyes as his pupils start to overtake his irises. 
"Tell him, baby." 
You cringe just barely at the pet name, an involuntary reaction you didn't fully realize you had. JJ catches it though and immediately knows it's now or never. 
He can feel the anxiety rolling off of you in waves, and that's enough confirmation for him. 
"Come on, Peach. The rest of the crew have missed you. You can at least come say hi to John B."
Your throat constricts at the mention of your brother, and JJ sees the tears on your lash line. You don't make a move, and Rafe laughs bitterly. 
"See? Go back to your side, pogue."
JJs on his last strand of patience and you can tell. He's always been extremely protective, but he's tried to stay in the shadows and wait for you. 
He knows that you won't leave until you're ready, but he's hell-bent on being there to catch you when the time comes. 
JJ is intimately familiar with being mistreated by someone you love. He knows the shame that comes with admitting it, the desire to protect the person even though they're hurting you. 
He isn't sure if Rafe has put his hands on you, but he's damn certain that he's got his talons in your mind. 
And he's also certain that if Rafe hasn't hit you, he will. It's only a matter of time. 
"I'm getting real sick of hearing your bitch ass voice, Cameron." 
His voice is sickly sweet, and he takes satisfaction in the way Rafe's eye twitches. He knows the man isn't used to being talked back to or having someone stand their ground.
You look on helplessly as Rafe squares his shoulders, clearly not above resorting to violence. JJ laughs darkly, looking forward to beating the absolute dog shit out of the man that's terrorized you for a year. 
"That's not in your best interest, man." 
JJ tries to warn him, but you know Rafe. Now that he's started this, and people are watching, he won't back down. You also know JJ, and he could kick Rafe's ass on a bad day. 
But standing here now, with months worth of rage waiting to be let out, you're convinced he could kill him. 
JJ stands relaxed, not a worry on his face, as Rafe pants heavily and turns red. He's already got him where he wants him. Even if JJ did lose this fight, he's already won. 
He's under the kook's skin, fucking with his head and he knows that Rafe is going to make impulsive swings with no real method. 
He sees it coming from a mile away, picking up on the way Rafe's body shifts back as his arm winds up. He dodges the punch easily before landing a right hook.
Your hands fly up over your mouth as you gasp, and your boyfriend stumbles back. 
His hand comes up to his cheek, wiping at the blood from where JJ's ring broke the skin. The entire crowd moves back as Rafe tackles him and you watch frozen as the two of them land blow after blow. 
You vaguely register hands on you as Kie and Sarah pull you away, sobs wracking your body. The three of you watch from a distance while John B and Pope try to break them apart to no avail. 
When JJ pulls out a gun and points it at Rafe's head, everything goes into slow motion. Your boyfriend takes a step back with his hands up defensively, and JJ has that manic smile he gets when he's about to do something stupid. 
Your voice sounds foreign to you as you scream JJ's name, pure terror coursing through your veins. His eyes meet yours and you shake your head, a silent plea to put the weapon down. 
He searches your face for a few seconds before lowering the gun, his features softening as he sees the state you're in. 
You barely register the sting of the ground scraping your skin as your knees give out and you collapse in heap, gasping for air. 
Sarah does her best to get your head between your knees so you don't faint, and Kie rubs your back soothingly. You look up as two feet come into your field of view, Rafe staring down at you with nothing but hatred. 
"Let's go." 
You start clambering to your feet before Kie pulls you back down and Sarah gets nose-to-nose with her brother. 
"Fucking leave and don't ever look at her again or I swear to God I will go get that gun and pull the trigger myself."
Her voice is quiet but lethal and Rafe scoffs before seeing how serious she is. He spits at the ground in front of you, and you flinch as more wails rip from your chest watching him walk away. 
In the blink of an eye, JJ is dropping to his knees in front of you and wrapping you up in his arms. You collapse into him, your tears soaking his shirt as he rocks you back and forth. 
"Shh, it's okay pretty girl. I'm right here, you're safe."
The girls share a look before walking back over to John B to give you and JJ space. Your brother watches the interaction with his hands in his hair, completely distraught. JJ tried to tell him, and he didn't listen. 
Now look at you, a shell of your former self and completely broken. He should have protected you and he failed you. Murdering Rafe flashes through his mind before he pushes it to the side to focus on you. 
His eyes follow every movement as JJ scoops you up and carries you into the chateau, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt so hard it looks like it might rip. 
Sarah wraps her arms around him as tears start flowing freely, and he leans into her. What has he done?
Inside, JJ sits you on the bathroom sink and puts a cold washcloth under your eyes to help the swelling. You sit like that for a few minutes before hopping down and gently instructing him to sit on the edge of the tub. 
You pull out a first aid kit and start disinfecting his wounds, your hands steady and a little too efficient. He frowns as you go through the motions as if this is second nature, and feels his head spin. You're too practiced at this.
"How do you know how to do all of this?" 
You seem to know just the right amount of pressure to apply to stop the bleeding without hurting him and what creams to use, a skill you didn't have before. 
He knows this because when he wrecked his dirt bike a while back, you tried to clean him up and it almost hurt worse than the accident itself. 
Your hands falter slightly and he stares at the side of your face as you resume your previous movements without answering. He takes a minute to really look at you in the bright lighting and his heart shatters. 
Now that he can really see you, his worst fears are confirmed. Your face is covered in foundation, but it doesn't hide the swelling of your cheek and eye. There are dabs of concealer on your neck, perfectly spaced and the size of fingertips. 
He goes to move your jacket down, wanting a better look at the rest of your body but freezes when you flinch. 
"What has he done to you?" 
It comes out as a broken whisper and you fight the fresh tears threatening to fall.
"I'm fine, JJ."
He shakes his head and you sigh, dropping the hand that's holding an alcohol pad. 
"No, Peach, you're not." 
There's a finality to his tone and you know you can't get around this. He grabs the wet washcloth and rubs at your face and neck, almost throwing up when the dark bruises start to peek out. 
He knew Rafe had a hold on you, but never in a million years did he imagine it was this bad.
You avert your eyes, not wanting to see the look of pity you're sure is blanketing your best friend's face. 
JJ feels sicker with each new mark that's uncovered and gently brushes his fingertips over them. He shakes his head as he finally pulls your jacket down, your arms covered in fresh and old bruises. 
He doesn't even want to imagine what the rest of you looks like. He notices you trembling and gently lifts your face to his with his index finger and pointer thumb. 
There's a multitude of emotions swimming in his eyes, but pity isn't one of them. Your lip quivers as he stares at you with the same love and adoration he always has, despite feeling like you're hideous and worthless. 
As if he can read the thoughts racing through your jumbled mind, he leans forward and presses his forehead to yours gently. 
"Hey, none of this is your fault, okay? You did so good, Peach. You're so strong and I'm so so proud of you. You never need to feel embarrassed or ashamed around me, if anyone gets it it's me."
You give him a weak nod and wrap your arms tightly around his neck, and he kisses the side of your head as you nuzzle into his shoulder. 
"Let's get you to bed, and we can talk tomorrow if you want." 
He takes your hand and leads you out of the bathroom and toward your bedroom slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements or jostle your body around. 
The rest of the group is inside now, quietly discussing the events of the night when you emerge. The conversation comes to a halt as their eyes land on you and John B feels ill when he sees your bruised body. 
He stands slowly and carefully makes his way to you with both hands out as if he's approaching a wounded animal. 
"I'm so sorry, Peach. Please, please know that I never would have let this happen if I had known." He chokes and you swallow thickly. 
"I know, JB. I don't blame you." 
He engulfs you in a gentle hug, his scent overwhelming you as you finally feel safe in your brother's arms again. He stifles his sobs for your sake before pulling away and letting JJ continue guiding you toward the back. 
The second you're out of his sight, he darts out the patio door and empties his stomach on the lawn. He feels Sarah rubbing his back as he continues heaving, before plopping down on the steps. 
"Rafe is going to pay for this."
In your room, JJ helps you change into pajamas and climbs into bed with you. The two of you lay there for a while, just basking in each other's company and listening to each other's breath. After a while, he hears soft snores coming from you and eases out of the bed. 
His face is set in a deep scowl when he returns to the living room and everyone turns to him. He locks eyes with John B, the two of them coming to a silent conclusion as the man gets up off the couch. 
John B turns to Sarah and Kie and nods toward the room you're sleeping in. 
"Keep an eye on her."
Sarah bites her bottom lip, contemplating if she wants the answer to her next question. 
"Where are you going?" 
JJ tosses his friend the keys to the Twinkie and he catches them with ease. 
"To get her shit and teach Rafe that no one fucks with the Pogues. Least of all my sister."
They don't wait for a reply before turning on their heels and making a beeline for the van. They climb in silently and peel out, speeding toward the Camerons. 
"So what's the plan?" JJ asks and John B glances over at him briefly. 
"Since when do we have plans? I'm getting my sister's stuff and you can deal with Rafe until I'm done." 
JJ claps excitedly, already stretching out his hands and preparing to finish what he started. 
The tires screech as John B stops in the driveway, both of them hopping out. They march up to the front door, and swing it open without so much as a knock. 
Rose jumps in her seat, her eyes wide like saucers as she stares at the two men in her foyer. 
"Don't even think about it. Where was she staying?" John B barks and Rose just points up the stairs. 
"Last room on the left." 
He doesn't spare her another look as he bounds up to the second floor on a war path. He starts grabbing everything that he recognizes as yours, as well as a couple Rolexes, and makes his first trip to the Twinkie. 
He figures its reparations and slips the watches into the glove box. 
As he's making his second trip he hears shouting in the backyard. He recognizes Rafe's voice and takes a second to place that the other person yelling is Ward. 
He grabs the last of your things and whatever else piques his interest, taking them outside as well. 
In the back, JJ is smirking as both men try to intimidate him. Ward goes so far as to offer him money, tired of dealing with Rafe's shit and never willing to admit his son's faults. 
JJ laughs at the insulting suggestion and crosses his arms. 
"You think that I'd let him get away with this for some cash? That girl is priceless to me, there's nothing you could possibly offer that would make me walk away from bashing this asshole's face in." 
Ward's face drops as he realizes he can't get out of this and he makes a split-second decision. He may be loyal to his son to a fault, but he's getting too old to be fist-fighting. 
"You're on you're own, Rafe. I told you this would happen." 
With that, he slams the glass door behind him and stops for a moment when he sees John B walking back in the front door before continuing up to his office. 
Rafe looks at JJ through his already busted eye, not willing to show any weakness. Deep down he knows what's about to happen is inevitable, but that doesn't mean he'll give the pogue the satisfaction. 
JJ closes the distance with lightning speed, his fist colliding against Rafe's nose with a sickening crack. Blood starts pouring instantly and the man groans loudly. 
JJ doesn't let him have any time to recover, pouncing on him and landing two more blows to his jaw and ribs. By the time John B joins, Rafe is almost unrecognizable. 
He's curled up on the ground clutching his stomach and John B looks over at his friend whose breathing heavily with blood splattered on his face. 
He decides JJ has done enough damage and opts to bend down to Rafe's level. 
"If you ever so much as look at my sister again, I will kill you without a second thought." He grits out before standing again and nodding for JJ to follow him. 
He pauses for a moment, wanting to add insult to injury. 
"Oh, and thanks for the watches."
They leave without another word and climb back into the Twinkie silently. 
"Shower when we get back, she doesn't need to see you like this." 
JJ nods and rubs his sore knuckles, already seeing the black and blue blossoming across them. They're only gone about an hour and Sarah is tackling John B in a hug before his feet even touch the ground. 
"Oh my god, are you okay?" She frets, hands frantically roaming his body to search for any sign of injury. 
"I'm fine, Sarah. I promise."
Meanwhile, JJ treks inside and heads straight for the bathroom. He stares at himself in the mirror, finally letting everything sink in. He drops his head as his shoulders shake, hot tears falling into the sink below. 
He allows himself a moment before taking off his necklace and rings, stepping into the hot stream of water. He tilts his head back as the blood and grime are washed away, and feels more salty tears slip down his cheeks. 
He knows what it feels like to be beaten until you're numb day after day. He knows how it feels when a fist collides with an old bruise, replacing it with a new one. He wouldn't wish it upon anyone, least of all you. 
All he can think about is your frame cowered in the corner as you try to survive, crying and whimpering. 
He wonders if you ever cried out for him and the thought makes him punch the shower wall. He should have been there, he should have saved you. 
He briefly regrets not pulling the trigger. The only thing stopping him from doing it now is the fact that he'd go to prison, and leave you alone. He never wants to leave your side again. 
He finishes up his shower, scrubbing until the water runs clear, and steps out onto the bath rug. He wraps a towel around his waist and pads down to your room, creeping in as silently as he can. 
His feet shuffle over to your dresser and he pulls out a fresh pair of boxers and sweatpants. You always have clothes for him, sleeping over in your bed isn't a rare occurrence. 
He pulls them on and crawls back into your bed, sighing as his head hits the pillow. You seem to sense his presence and roll over to press your face into his bare chest, your legs tangling with his out of habit. 
He runs his hand through your hair, his arm wrapping around you to pull you tighter against him. His eyes flutter closed as he inhales your sweet scent, coconut shampoo mixed with perfume that smells like burnt sugar. 
It's familiar and comforting, and he tries to calm his heart rate as he grounds himself in your arms. You're here, you're safe, and he's never letting you go again. 
You mumble quietly, your eyes starting to peek open. 
"Shhh, go back to sleep, pretty girl. I'm right here, I'll always be right here. I promise."
He feels your lips press a soft kiss on his shoulder before your breathing evens out again and he stays up just watching you.
He's absolutely petrified that he'll wake up and you'll be gone, back in the arms of Rafe Cameron. So he doesn't sleep. 
It's not until four am when you reach up and gently swipe your hands over his eyes, forcing them shut, that he allows himself to get tired. 
"Go to sleep, JJ. I can hear the wheels turning in your head and it's keeping me up. I'll still be here."
He turns to lay on his back, pulling you with him so your body is practically on top of his. 
The weight of you soothes him, and finally, he starts to doze off. Everything is okay now, you're going to be okay. He'll make sure of it, even if it's the last thing he ever does.
3K notes · View notes
stsgluver · 8 months
Note
gojo hours (aka 24/7) is so real!!!! as for prompts i have been floating around with this but secret dating but they’re 100% so obviou about it. they also have the audacity to act surprised when they are accused of dating (by students or friends)
the idea was inspired by a prompt i saw with “let’s compare hands for science.” / “what?” / “it’s not like we haven’t done anything worse.”
HE WOULDN'T EVEN TRY TO BE SUBTLE.
you were both teachers at tokyo, having met as students so you'd known each other well over a decade.
when you were teenagers it was a very much will-they-won't-they relationship and you were both so so close to it being the real thing... but then toji fushiguro happened and haibara died and then suguru left to kill non-sorcerers and gojo isolated himself to the point where the two of you would barely say a greeting to each other when in passing.
it wasn't till you came back to be a teacher (you'd left tokyo high to work as a sorcerer independently for six years after graduation) that you two began to reconnect.
and it wasn't till about twelve months prior to the present that you had finally agreed to go on a date with him.
it was an unspoken agreement to keep the relationship under wraps. gojo was terrified the second he acknowledged you to the jujutsu world he'd lose you and you wanted people to respect you for your skills as a grade one sorcerer and not be reduced to a special grade's side piece.
you hadn't out right said it was secret but neither of you were jumping to tell anyone you were official.
gojo, however, had slipped back into old habits very quickly and, even before the two of you had started your secret escapades, your students and friends around you were suspicious. anyone with a pair of eyes could see how much gojo doted on you.
he brought you pastries, stayed back with you after class to clear rooms up, and was the first to have a go at the higher-ups whenever they'd blindside you and send you on a mission too difficult for one sorcerer alone (even they were getting suspicious of your relationship and wanted to see how far he'd go for you).
yuji and nobara had been at jujutsu high for two weeks before they met you. the two plus megumi had left class in search of gojo when they'd come across him speaking to you.
there was mere inches between the two of you. satoru had even lifted off his blindfold to speak to you, head tilted slightly with his lips tilted into a smirk as you ranted about the latest instant that the higher ups had managed to piss you off.
"is that gojo-sensei's girlfriend?" yuji had asked megumi, him and nobara sharing suspicious glances.
"no. she's the second year's teacher.”
"but they're close-close.”
“i know.”
"are you sure they’re not dating?”
megumi sighed. “i don’t care. go ask them.”
so he did.
yuji’s pink flop of hair appeared between the two of you, causing you to jump and take a step back from satoru to accommodate for the student. "are you two dating?"
"hi- what- no, us?" you stammered out, pointing between yourself and satoru as you adamantly shook your head.
"yuji!” satoru wrapped one arm around the boy’s shoulders and one arm around yours, “this is yn!"
he didn’t deny the question.
AND THE COMPARING HAND SIZES?
gojo does it regularly. any chance he can get.
he love love loves your height difference.
he's 6'3 so being taller than everyone isn’t unusual for him but something about being taller than you made him giggly.
the two of you had gone to the park with the first years for well deserved ice cream (kikufuku for gojo), and when yuji and nobara begin arguing over who has the largest pinky finger, gojo found it to be the perfect opportunity to compare your own fingers.
"let's compare hands for science," satoru would wriggle his eyebrow at you, pulling back the sleeve of his uniform jacket to clearly present you his hand (and also give you a glimpse of his toned forearm that he knows you love).
you rolled your eyes, glancing to the three students that were only metres away from you doing the same thing.
"what? right now?"
"it's just comparing hand sizes,” satoru dismissed before a mischievous look appeared on his delicate features. he bent down to your height, the hairs on the back of your neck lifting as he whispered, “plus it's not like we haven't done anything worse in pub-"
"megumi's watching us.” you cleared your throat, trying to keep your composure and not make it obvious the you’re affected by his indirect recounts of particular times together.
gojo grinned, standing up tall and grabbing your wrist absentmindedly to compare sizes despite your protests. “he asked me yesterday if i liked you again.”
"what did you say?” your hand was dwarfed by his, and it always shocked you how smooth his skin felt against yours despite the years and years of fighting against curses.
satoru interlocked your fingers and pressed a soft kiss between your knuckles. “that i loved you, of course.”
813 notes · View notes
mercurygguk · 6 months
Text
head over skates · jjk ; part iii.
Tumblr media
··· SUMMARY; jeon jungkook is the captain of the hockey team and one of the biggest fuckboys on campus. you happen to have known him for as long as you can remember but he is not who he used to be and you simply can’t stand it.
so what happens when you’re suddenly stuck doing a project with him for three weeks?
SERIES MASTERLIST · # TAG · MOOD BOARDS · PLAYLIST
Tumblr media
PAIRING; hockey player!jungkook x f. reader
GENRE; fwb au, childhood friends to enemies to lovers au, college au
WORDCOUNT; 1,255
RATING; 18+
WARNINGS; swearing, a teeny tiny little tension but also, jk is being very sweet :(
a/n; part 3!!! i love doing this little series bc it's so easy to write when the chapters aren't so long <3 i hope all of you enjoy it too despite the fact that it's not a very long read! lmk what you think! ty for reading xx
Tumblr media
You didn’t text Jungkook back.
No matter how tempted you were when he tried to bribe you with iced americano – your favorite (which he remembered).
Instead you took it upon yourself and started working on the project without him. Your gut is telling you that he won’t be adding much to the group work nor will he invest the time and energy in it. There’s no reason to wait around for him to actually care about the project when you know that ‘caring’ isn’t one of his primary traits. It used to be but not anymore – if he still cared, he wouldn’t have abandoned your friendship the way he did.
Besides, it’s not like you mind. 
You’ll gladly put his name on the finished product if it means you’ll be rid of him and his flirty, cocky behavior. It’ll only make the process easier and you’ll be able to do it just the way you want. If anything, Jungkook should be grateful that you’re willing to do this on your own and just add his name. Normally you wouldn’t do something like this but you just can’t stand being stuck doing group work with him for three weeks.
Jihyo is right though – it is time to move past it but you can’t. Not yet.
You haven’t spoken to Jungkook in 5 years – that’s sixty months of spite and aggravation that has affected you way more than you would’ve liked. Like you said, you’re not one to hold grudges against people but this particular grudge has been sitting in the back of your mind for half a decade and while you’d love to be able to just let it go, you can’t.
You’re pulled from your thoughts when your phone buzzes due to an incoming text. You reach for it to take a look, your face instantly twisting in annoyance when you realize who’s texting you.
[11:07 AM] Jeon🤬👊🏼: whatcha doing? ;)
You swipe it, removing it from your lock screen before returning your focus to your laptop and the project at hand. You let out a soft sigh and rest your chin in your palm as you play around with the font of the text – Times New Roman suddenly has a whole other meaning after Jungkook’s name was written next to yours the other day.
"It’s good to know your phone works.”
“Oh my god!”
Startled by the low and deep voice right next to your ear, you jump in your seat and turn around with widened eyes. Dark brown eyes with a mischievous glint in them are staring back at you, an amused grin on pink lips as well. You take notice of the two iced americanos in his hand before you’re scowling at your former friend turned stranger.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to do the project,” Jungkook tells you and holds up the beverages. “I brought drinks.”
“How did you know I was here?” You can’t help but ask, wondering how he managed to locate you. The library isn’t exactly one of the places on campus Jeon Jungkook frequents the most. You’d know since you spent a lot of time here. 
He shrugs, “I saw you when I walked by, went and got these,” he places the iced americanos onto the table, “and came back to join you.”
You gape at him for a moment as he pulls a chair out and takes a seat next to you, not a word of protest leaving you because you’re simply speechless once again. He actually got you iced americano and he genuinely wants to do the project. 
Something doesn’t seem right.
Jungkook glances at you with a smirk when he’s met by silence, “what? Surprised that I actually do my school work?”
You shake yourself off your speechlessness and shrug as nonchalantly as possible, “something like that.”
“I see you took a head start,” he nods to your laptop with a chuckle as he pulls his own out of his backpack. That fucking chunky, black backpack he’s had since high school. Back then you wondered what he carried around in it and every time you asked him, he would only shrug and grin. 
Teen boys and their mysterious behavior.
And just for a brief moment, you see your best friend from high school in front of you, sitting here next to you like back in the day – boyish grin and that same glint in his eye. He looks the same and it’s messing with your head because back then you were crushing hard on him. Jungkook has always dominated that casual, boyish charm and look and today is no different. He’s wearing an oversized white Nike t-shirt and black track pants from the same brand. There’s a yellow beanie on top of his head to tame his messy hair. For all you know, he could’ve gotten straight out of bed and gone to campus after throwing on the first outfit he could find – simple, casual, flattering.
The only difference is the two lip rings and the full sleeve of tattoos.
“Yeah, about that,” you start, shooting him a fake, over-friendly smile. “Don't worry about it – I’ll do the project and just add your name before handing it in.”
Jungkook blinks at you for a moment before recovering, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “why? You're scared I’ll fuck it up or some shit?”
You shake your head, “no, I just prefer working alone.”
“You always do projects with Jihyo though,” he points out, squinting his eyes at you.
“That’s different.”
“Is it? Or are you just saying that because I’m your partner?” He challenges.
How do you tell a guy who’s so used to getting his way and having people go out of their way to make sure he’s happy that you don’t want him as your project partner? That you’d rather do an important project that’s meant to be done in pairs by yourself and risk the possibility of getting stressed out just because you got paired up with him? 
“If I’m being honest, yes,” you tell him, not taking a moment to rethink your choice to confront him but just blurting it out instead. “I would rather work myself into the ground than do group work with you. So if you don’t mind…”
Jungkook cocks an eyebrow as you do a gesture with your hands as if to shoo him away. He looks rather unbothered though, not moving an inch either. He stares at you for a second and if you didn’t know any better, you would almost assume he’s silently challenging you to try again, to tell him off and ‘shoo’ him away like a fucking bird. 
You don’t.
You stare back at him, your face not showing an ounce of anything as you patiently wait for him to get up and leave.
He doesn’t.
Instead the corners of his mouth curls into a faint smirk as he reaches for one of the iced americanos and slides it towards you. He then grabs the other one and turns to his laptop, silently sipping on his beverage while getting to work on the project.
You feel your blood starting to boil a little but you don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, you pointedly snatch up the iced americano, once again turning your focus to the project at hand. You feel his eyes on you but you keep your eyes on your laptop screen, acting as if his presence isn’t affecting you or bothering you in any way.
You then give in and take a sip of the coffee.
Damn it… 
It’s a really good iced americano.
661 notes · View notes
takerfoxx · 2 months
Note
I'm so fucking confused what did the Rock do
It's a very long and complicated tale, but the short version, the Rock recently joined the board of directors for TKO (WWE's parent company) and SEEMINGLY (as we don't know the full behind the scenes story just yet) used his clout to push himself into the Wrestlemania main event, challenging his sort of cousin Roman Reigns for the WWE Universal Championship and pushing aside Cody Rhodes, the guy that was supposed to be Roman's challenger, and thereby sabotaging a two-year story that everyone was invested in right when it was about to see it's conclusion. And people are pissed about it.
That's the short version. Here is the loooooonnnnnggggg version.
WWE has been plagued by a number of issues over the years (not the least being that it's been run by an actual rapist for the last four decades), but the two relevant issues is a tendency to rely on past their prime stars of yesterday at the expense of building new stars for today, and when they do want to build a new star, they have a bad habit of shoving their chosen golden boy down everyone's throat to everyone else's detriment in a nakedly inauthentic manner until the fans get sick of them (see: Ultimate Warrior, John Cena, and, most recently, Roman Reigns, who will become important later). Needless to say, they've had a lot of trouble getting the crowd behind what is known as the White Meat Babyface, or primary good guy.
The Rock started off as the latter, being introduced as Rocky Maivia, who was a wholesome good boy who was just so happy to be here. People saw through it and booed the fuck out of him. In rare case of the WWE actually listening and responding, they turned Rocky heel and let him vent his frustrations at the fans, which let everyone know that, holy shit, this guy is actually insanely charismatic and probably the best trash talker in the business! Thus, the Rock was born.
However, while he certainly earned his accolades during his heyday, his returns since haven't been so universally admired (see previous note about the WWE pushing the stars of yesterday). One instance about ten years ago involves him main eventing Wrestlemania against John Cena over CM Punk, who was the reigning WWE Champion at the time, and was quite annoyed. Okay, the Rock vs. John Cena could be excused on account of being that much of a dream match, but then they had CM Punk end his year long title run to the Rock so he and Cena could main event again, this time with the title on the line. This was one of the many issues that reportedly led to CM Punk walking out a few months later.
Now, let's move away from the Rock for a bit and talk about Roman Reigns, who was another example of the WWE ramming their chosen golden boy down everyone's throat. Like the Rock, he is part of the venerated Anoa'i Family, who are practically wrestling royalty with how many superstars they've produced (though they're not actually related by blood, but that doesn't matter, as those who marry or are adopted in are still considered full members of the clan).
Roman began as part of the massively popular trio known as the Shield, alongside Seth Rollins and Dean Ambrose. And during their two year run, the Shield were kind of incredibly awesome. Three badasses closer than brothers just wrecking a path of destruction against all those who stood in their way, a perfect combination of violence and genuine comradery...right until Seth Rollins betrayed the group and they all became single stars.
Now, despite the WWE having high hopes for all three, Roman was clearly the anointed heir, despite being the least experienced of the three. Unfortunately, they went about this by making him essentially a John Cena clone. Smelling another corporate babyface about to be shoved down their throats, the fans turned on him and turned on him HARD, making him the most loathed face in wrestling for years despite always being treated by the company as a beloved hero. Finally, the decision was made to turn Roman Reigns heel, unleashing his dark side and turning him into the Tribal Chief, a sadistic and manipulative monster who's held an iron grip on the title for literally years. Needless to say, it has been a massive improvement, and he is now quite awesome (though people are sick of how long he's been champion, but that's neither here nor there).
Anyway, heel Roman has been champion for basically forever at this point, and it's been a question of who will eventually be the one to dethrone him, because whoever it is automatically becomes the biggest star in the business. And given what an accomplishment that is, there really can be no place it can happen other than the main event of Wrestlemania.
Enter Cody Rhodes.
Like Roman and the Rock, Cody also comes from a prestigious wrestling family. Cody is the son of the late, great Dusty Rhodes, the American Dream. And this pedigree has weighed heavily on him, both in and out of storyline.
Now, unlike his plain-looking and tubby father, Cody looks like he was grown in a lab to become the perfect WWE wrestler. Movie star looks, an absolutely ripped body, and physical charisma for days. Despite this, his first WWE run didn't go how he wanted. While he saw a fair amount of success, he never seemed to break out of the midcard and was eventually saddled with the loathed Stardust gimmick, which he absolutely hated, and after realizing that things weren't going to change, he decided to bet on himself and leave the WWE to prove everyone wrong.
This ended up working beyond anyone's wildest dreams.
To say that Cody was successful post WWE would be a gross understatement. Rebranding himself as the American Nightmare, Cody became the opposite of everything his father was, dressing in snappy suits and carrying himself in an arrogant, sadistic manner. He worked for a number of places, from TNA to Ring of Honor to New Japan, and saw massive success, winning multiple titles across multiple promotions and building himself as a force to be reckoned with. He was also the impetus for the historically significant All In event, in which a number of wrestlers from a number of different promotions banded together to put on the first non-WWE show to have over ten thousand people in attendance in over twenty years, which eventually led to the creation of AEW, which Cody was an intrinsic part of as well. Needless to say, Cody was cooking.
Unfortunately, his own way of doing things didn't mesh well with the AEW audience, and they turned on him pretty hard after a year or two. Eventually he left to return to the WWE, and a lot of people questioned if he was making a mistake, given how he was treated the last time.
However, his gamble had paid off. His worth had been proved, and now WWE was all in (pun intended) on Cody Rhodes. In contrast to the volatile AEW crowd, the WWE fans welcomed the prodigal son back with open arms. And surprising all cynics (including myself), this love continued strong even after the novelty of Cody Rhodes back wore off, probably bolstered by how carefully his storylines were plotted, some truly killer performances in the ring, and the respect garner by him being an absolutely fucking champ and wrestling Seth Rollins in a Hell in a Cell match despite having a horribly torn pec.
Finally, the WWE had a White Meat babyface that the fans universally accepted and wanted to see more of, and they were going to capitalize. He won the Royal Rumble to rapturous applause and entered in a program with Roman Reigns to challenge him for his title at Wrestlemania. And unlike other challengers, he actually seemed like a credible threat. Much was made about how his father had also challenged for the same title but could never capture it, so he wanted to do what his father couldn't and finish the story. People were behind Cody all the way, and the time seemed right for Roman to finally fall and a new top star to be crowned.
And then Cody lost. Roman cheated, and Cody lost.
Needless to say, people were pissed. However, others said that maybe this was leading to a rematch at the following year's Wrestlemania, making his eventual victory all the sweeter. Certainly, WWE still seemed behind Cody, as he spent the next year in several high profile feuds that kept him looking strong, including going over Brock Lesnar of all people. And again, the fans remained behind him, when in past cases they would have turned on the guy by now. Believe me, this hadn't happened in a very long time.
But not all was well. There were rumbles that the Rock might be queuing up for a return one of these days, possibly to finally face Roman Reigns in another dream match to settle who the true Tribal Chief of the Anoa's family. People had been wanting that match for years, but for it to happen now, upsetting Cody's chance to finally finish his story? Well, that was the worst possible time. However, these rumors seemed to be nothing more than that. Just rumors.
And then CM Punk came back.
Now, Punk is a whole can of worms all in himself, and could easily fill a full post of his own. But the important thing is that he and Cody are very much dark reflections of each other, especially in how both were screwed over by WWE during their first runs, left under dark circumstances, and returned to the fans' adoration. And they both coveted that Wrestlemania main event.
In fact, during an awesome promo battle between the two, Punk specifically pointed out that he intended to do to Cody what the Rock had done to him ten years ago: be that bigger star who came back after not being around for a long time and take that Wrestlemania main event away. And sure enough, during the Royal Rumble, the final two in the ring were CM Punk and Cody Rhodes.
And Cody won. The first man in years to win back to back Rumbles. He singled out Roman Reigns as his target, cementing their Wrestlemania rematch. As for Punk, he had a main event of his own, as he was apparently scheduled to face Seth Rollins for the World Heavyweight Title at night 1 of Wrestlemania. It seemed that both of the prodigal sons were getting their wish!
And then CM Punk got hurt really bad and had to pull out of Wrestlemania.
Well, that sucks, but it shouldn't upset plans too badly. Seth could just wrestle someone else, and Cody's two year story could proceed like everyone wanted.
Well, we all know what happened next.
youtube
Yup. It happened. The Rock, likely with the backing of his new position on the TKO's board, had pushed himself into Cody's spot, while Cody (as it appears) will be replacing Punk to take on Seth Rollins instead. A two year story, flushed down the drain. Punk's words had turned out to be prophetic.
And while the fans were cheering in that video, once the buzz had worn off and people realized what had happened, that's when things got nasty. Over the last few days, people have turned on the Rock and turned on him HARD. Rocky sucks chants fill WWE events, #wewantcody trends for days, videos of the Rock get booed, and (unfortunately) even members of his family have gotten caught in the crossfire. People are NOT happy about this direction. Cody is their guy, and right when his story was going to be completed, right when Roman was going to be dethroned by the guy that everyone wanted to see beat him, this happens.
Plus, since then reports have been swirling that this decision was made by the TKO board, not WWE, with the Rock specifically pushing for it to "Save Wrestlemania." Which hasn't exactly warmed people to the idea.
Which is really funny, because the last time Roman Reigns and the Rock shared a ring together, it was in the middle of Roman's disastrous babyface run where the fans hated him, especially in Philadelphia, a city noted for its rebellious fans, and the WWE sent the Rock out to help Roman in hopes of changing their minds.
It didn't work.
youtube
And where is Wrestlemania this year? Oh right, Philadelphia.
This is going to be...interesting, to say the least.
249 notes · View notes