#I don't trust any of the people who are supposed to be taken care of me or figuring things out | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tpwk-formula1 · 2 months ago

Note

haii could i please order a pizza with sicillian crust with red sauce, and jalapenos, chicken, and tomatoes and my drinks are mtn dew(dom), beer and diet coke. Served by Max Verstappen please!!

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

sicillian crust dating red sauce rough sex jalapenos "always such a fucking brat" chicken "awe you thought I'd let you cum that easy?" tomatoes "do you enjoy pissing me off?" mt dew dom (reader) beer edging diet cock recording kink served by Max Verstappen

Max Verstappen x Dom reader

AN: I am so pleased with how busy the Pizzeria has been! I work at night today so I'm gonna get a couple fics more pizzas done before I have to go in.

TW - edging, sub max, dom reader, begging, unprotected sex, filming, taunting

WC 2100+

Y/N POV

I've been watching Max from the other side of the bar for the past 15 minutes while he talks to Checo about something having forgotten about the drink he was supposed to be getting me.

Another 5 minutes pass before Max is finally waving the bartender down to orders drinks and another 3 minutes before I watch Max approaching with his puppy smile trying to sweeten me up once he saw the cold stare I was giving him.

"Max it's been almost half an hour since you told me 'I'll be right back just gonna get your drink' right back my ass" I saw while rolling my eyes and talking the drink he was offering me.

"M'sorry, Checo was talking about the car," Max tells me sheepishly. I could tell he was sorry so I decided to brush it off and pull him to my side before placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

"It's fine, just stay on task next time," I tell him softly whispering into his ear.

I don't know how or when it happened but there had been a shift in max and I's relationship. At one point in time, Max was a young curious boy doing any and everything he could to dominate me and 'keep me in check' but as the years progressed there was a switch and he was no longer the one wearing the pants in the relationship. Most people just assumed Max was whipped but the very few who actually knew about the dynamic just understood it. To them it all made sense, on track, Max was a dominant force that instilled fear in his fellow drivers but off the track, he just needed an outlet to be taken care of.

"I promise," Max whispers before placing a kiss on my lips.

"Love you," he says when he pulls back. "Love you too"

As the night progressed Max had done really well about doing what he's asked but then Lando showed up and I knew instantly I was gonna lose him in the crowd.

I trust Max and I have no issues with him going off but being left at a table by myself surrounded by people I had never met was making me grow more anxious than I would like to admit.

It was about an hour later when I finally saw Max approaching the table with a dopey smile across his face letting me know he had definitely had another drink or two.

"Hi baby," Max says while plopping down right next to me not picking up on the annoyance radiating off of me.

"Do you enjoy pissing me off?" I ask back watching as the smile on Max's face instantly falls.

"Wha- huh? Wait, what did I do?" Max stutters, struggling to try and figure out what to say.

"You just disappeared for over an hour. You left me alone at this dan table and you didn't even tell me where the fuck you went or ask if I wanted to join," I tell him back piching his thigh slightly under the table.

"M'sorry. I promise I've been trying to be good. Don't wanna make you mad, schat" Max mumbles clearly feeling the shame of the verbal lashing he was gonna get later when we got back to the apartment.

"You're gonna be in tears tonight," I reply back straight faced not cracking a normal smile.

"Please just one more chance," Max begs knowing I meant every word.

"I gave you a chance with Checo. I don't understand how you hanging out with Lando somehow always results in you getting punished. Maybe we should send him a video of you tonight to let me know he's a terrible influence," I tell him while looking into his eyes before placing a soft kiss on his cheek to throw him off.

"You wouldn't" Max says with wide eyes of the threat of sending a sex tape. I just shrug my shoulders playing along with the bit.

"I don't know, I think he would love to know that the man he's fighting to get the World Driver Championship is just a needy whiney little bitch," I reply back making Max whine.

"You're a meanie," Max mumbles.

"And you're a brat. Don't we make a perfect pair," I saw with a smile on my face.

When we finally get back to the apartment for the night Max was pretty much sober knowing I would wait until morning if he wasn't sober. He chose take his punishment now versus the morning when he would be nursing a hangover.

"Go into our room, make sure the cats are out of the room, then strip down and be laying on you back in the bed. I'll be there in 5 minutes," I say the second the door is closed.

Max makes quick work of disappearing into our room where I assume he listened to every word I said.

In the 5 minutes, I stripped down into the lingerie set I had chosen to wear under my outfit before making my way down the hallway where I find Sassy sitting by the door staring up at me curiously. I give her a quick pet before slipping into the room to find Max exactly how I told him to be. I look around the room and found a neatly stack of clothes letting me know that Max had folded them up instead of throwing them arounf our room.

"I see you remember some of our rules," I saw while staring at the clothes so Max understood what I was referencing.

When I start climbing into the bed with Max I can see him tensing slightly in anticipation.

"You know how embarrassing it was tonight?" I said before spitting onto Max's cock and starting to jerk him off making him instantly grow hard under my hand.

"I was sat there all alone for over an hour. I looked dumb as fuck. I'm sure the Monaco gossip is gonna eat that up "Max Verstappen disappears leaving his long-time girlfriend alone at the table' You know how media is, they're gonna make it seem like there's trouble in paradise. When in reality it's just little Maxie being a brat. Oh! I almost forgot," I stop my teasing to grab my phone which I brought with me into the room.

"Say hi to Lando," I say while pointing the camera at Max's face. He's giving the camera such a pained yet slutty look it makes me laugh at his desperation. I wait a couple seconds before my voice booms through the room, "I said, Say hi to Lando." While verbally reprimanding Max I send a quick slap to his inner thigh close to his dick before pinching the same spot making Max squirm a bit.

"Hi, Lando," Max mumbles barely audible.

"Try that again. I hear the way you yell at your engineer. Such a disrespectful boy," I tell him with a raised brow.

"Hi, Lando" Max finally says in a loud enough voice to be heard.

"Good boy," I tell him while moving my unoccupied hand back to his dick making sure I have the perfect angle to get Max and his already wet with precum ccok.

"So needy. You're already dripping for me," I say with a smirk on my face.

"So good, schat" Max whines making me speed up slightly just to watch Max's breath hitch.

"I love it when you get like that," I mumble while squeezing Max's cock a bit harder.

"M'close," Max mumbled making me speed up just slightly before pulling my hand away and watching Max's eyes roll into the back of his head and tremble slightly from his pleasure being ripped away in a matter of seconds.

"No," Max whines dragging out the O sounding so desperate.

"Awe you thought I'd let you cum that easy?" I tease while starting to jerk Max off again while zooming the camera in on Max's cock dripping with precum.

"Schat, please," Max says already starting to beg.

"Oh come on, you can handle more than one," I tell him while leaning down and kicking softly at his tip collecting a bit of his precum.

I shuffle down the bed slightly to start pulling Max into my mouth and down my throat taking all of Max's length into my mouth making sure to bob my head slightly before bringing Max to the edge all over again.

I could tell when he was getting close again because his thighs started tensing under my hands making me rip away from Max's cock to watch him thrash around while bucking his hips to try and gain some kind of friction.

"Fuck no," Max whines staring straight at that the camera that I angled perfectly on his face.

"I love watching you get progressively more needy," I say with a smirk while gripping onto his cock and giving it a rough couple jerks before pulling Max into my mouth again.

I didn't give Max much time to calm down so he was on the edge rather quickly.

"Please, I'm gonna cum," Max says making me bod my head a bit faster before pulling away and watching Max try and chase his orgasm on his own by moving his hand to go and finish himself off but I quickly get a grip on his wrist and giving Max a look that says knock it off.

"No more," Max whines making me smirk slightly.

"Can you give me one more?" I question with a raised brow making Max whine but slowly start to nod his head.

"Yes, I can give one more," Max mumbles softly making me smile softly.

I started jerking off his cock softly making sure I'm filming everything again. I loved it when Max got like. The noises, his hips bucking, and the pure desperation in his eyes always seemed to turn me on.

I could tell Max was getting close but I wanted to push him farther than previous so I continue my movements till the second I know Max will cum I rip my hand away and watch as Max lets out a roar of desperation while jerking his body around not being able to gain any friction as I moved away slightly.

"Please, I need it. I can't do it anymore. I need to cum baby, please," Max begs making me smile softly.

"I'm gonna let you cum in a minute," I tell Max softly while rubbing his thigh in a soothing manner making Max whimper at the touch.

I turned the video off and tossed my phone away from us. I was still sitting in my lingerie set which is completely soaked through both from just witnessing Max get to the point of begging and also because I had snuck a couple fingers into my folds and teased my clit while giving Max head.

I stand from the bed softly and strip down completely before climbing back into the bed and climbing on top of Max before instantly sinking all the way down on Max.

"Oh fuck," I moan when I feel Max stretch my tight walls. I knew neither of us would last very long but looking at Max's face he was completely blissed out.

"So good," Max mumbled making his accent come out a bit thicker.

"So big baby," I moan while softly grinding my hips to gain some friction but not enough stimulation to bring Max or I to an orgasm.

"More, please" Max begs and I give him exactly what he wants because I start bouncing my hips slightly making both Max and I moan at the pleasure coursing through our bodies.

It doesn't take me long for the knot in my stomach to grow alerting me of the incoming orgasm. I look at Max's face and can tell he's trying to hold his orgasm off until I was cumming.

"Cum for me baby," I whisper out bouncing harder on Max's cock throwing me off the edge and into a violent orgasm.

The way Max's hips were erratically thrusting and the feeling of him filling me up sent me over the edge into a shaking orgasm. I'm shaking on Max's cock trying to ride both of our orgasms out.

"So good baby," I whine softly still feeling the aftershocks of the intense orgasm I just had.

"Thank you," Max says softly through staggered breath still trying to catch his breath again.

"You did good for me," I tell Max softly while pulling off his cock and laying down on his chest.

"You're not gonna send that to Lando right," Max mumbles softly making me chuckle a little and shake my head no.

"You know I would never, but I did love watching you get desperate on camera. Might start having to do that more often," I tell him softly looking up to watch his face. I could see the conflict in his eyes but he still nodded his head letting me know it was something he would be willing to do again.

273 notes · View notes

mcflymemes · 25 days ago

Text

DRAGON AGE: THE VEILGUARD PROMPTS PT 1 * assorted dialogue from the first hour of the video game

somebody's gotta stop him... and that's where you come in.

so... where were we?

our story begins where all great stories begin: with the seediest bar in town and a missing contact.

let's try this again.

you think you can come into my bar and make demands?

i'm not leaving until i know where she is.

be ready to talk by the time i get to you.

darling... you're adorable.

for the record, there was probably an easier way to do that than fighting an entire bar.

what'd i have to worry about? you were there watching my back.

break's over.

something must have gotten them riled up.

should we be in more of a hurry to get out of here?

i have to talk him down.

are they after us?

we don't have time to get arrested.

you're safe now. get inside and bar the doors.

there are a lot of scared people out here.

what about you two? are you okay?

have you got my gear?

can you get us there, [name]?

this is nowhere near my neighborhood.

eyes up! we've got company!

used to fight these assholes every day.

i'm back on the job.

isn't that a coincidence?

you said you had a lead?

that's where your man is hiding.

you told me he was working alone.

i'll take it from here.

take care of the team for me.

hope i'm not interrupting.

let's buy him some time.

i have taken precautions to minimize the damage.

people are dying right now.

you need to listen. please.

people are always dying. it is what they do.

shit. we need a better plan.

what if we disrupt the ritual?

the storm could tear you apart.

you came a long way and made a valiant effort.

this story does not end in my downfall.

you have no idea what you have done.

i know what i did.

i was not destroying the world.

why am i here?

had i the power to control you, i would have already used it.

get out of my head!

i do not want to be here any more than you do.

what are you talking about?

thanks to you, though, i am now trapped.

you were innocently doing nothing when we came along.

[name] always said you'd have a big explanation for why none of this was your fault.

i am certain you will be fine.

you don't get to sit back and look smug!

what else could i possibly do?

you will soon see what i was trying to prevent.

this is your responsibility now.

look who's still with us!

trust me. i've had worse. gonna take more than a flesh wound to stop me.

turns out, you were right.

the plan did go a little wrong.

i should have come up with a better plan.

you worked with what you had. and you succeeded, by the way.

[name]. you've got this. i've seen your work.

there's a reason i dragged you into this whole mess.

you're clever. adaptable. and you don't know when to quit.

sorry, i didn't mean to barge in.

i really need to look around.

we should talk about things.

i'll work with it. you know me.

maybe our paths haven't crossed, but i know our work has.

we've just got to start somewhere.

this is a dangerous job. everyone knew that signing on.

you don't slow down for much, do you?

let's stop worrying about me and go do that.

come get me when you're ready to go.

you're sure that wasn't just a dream?

i'm not certain of anything.

we're not out of danger.

we need to get out there and stop them.

we can't just sit here and do nothing.

we need to investigate. figure out what we're dealing with before we rush in and make things worse.

this time, if we see a shot, we take it.

you sure you're up for this?

it's not working! i can't contain it!

you all were supposed to stop him.

it didn't go as cleanly as we hoped.

things just got a whole lot worse.

let's just say they weren't known for their kindness.

you're in no condition to fight.

190 notes · View notes

seresinhangmanjake · 1 year ago

Text

The One I Want: Part 8

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x plus size!reader

Summary: You’re new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Notes/Warnings: traumatic past, trust issues, cursing, very likely typos

Words: 1951

The One I Want Masterlist

You don't remember how you got to the couch. You don’t remember whose idea it was, or who guided who, or who first fell onto the cushions and pulled the other with them. Jake’s lips have kept you from retaining that information, not that it is of much importance, anyway. It doesn’t change that you are where you are, your legs draped over Jake’s thighs, your fingers woven through the ends of his hair, with his hand latched onto your hip. Your lips have barely had a moment apart since you relieved his concern with your smile and he went back in for a second kiss. Bodies have requested a few decent breaths here and there, but nothing keeps you separated for long.

His kiss is demanding, but not controlling. It’s a kiss unwanting to break, but willing to do so if that is what you need. And his touch follows a similar pattern. Jake is not shy when his hand ventures past your hip, but he’s still cautious. The warmth of his palm sliding over your ass and pulling you closer is gently done, and when he travels up to your flannel sleep shirt and fingers dip under the fabric, he stops just after two knuckles are hidden past the hem. Fingertips grazing your skin are enough to cause shivers of pleasure, but they are still careful not to cross a line.

You’re not actually sure if a line is there for him to cross, yet somehow you both know the possibility exists that it is hiding in plain sight. It might be that his touch an inch or two closer to your breast could ignite a panic response. His fingers playing with the buttons that hold your shirt closed or the tie that keeps your shorts around your hips could have you jumping out of his hold. And with such unpredictability, you appreciate that Jake doesn’t take that risk because you don’t want to stop this. You want to stay as you are, connected as much as you can safely be connected.

Jake has stolen minutes, maybe hours, from your morning—although, you suppose it can’t be considered stealing if you’re freely giving them to him and intentionally surrendering to the way he's making you feel. Any grasp on time disappeared long ago, but you couldn’t possibly be more content. In Jake’s arms, you have chosen to loosen your connection to the space around you and he has led you to a place where nothing else, especially not your past, matters.

And you like it here, in this place. Every available reality suspends. Here, you are not damaged. You are not imperfect. A man like Jake wants you. You believe you’ll never have to leave this town because no one is going to say anything to you that will make it unbearable. Here, there’s the suggestion of a future. Here, you can feel your feet start to plant into the ground.

—

“You’re beautiful, you know,” he says.

You stopped kissing some time ago and he’s taken to staring at you, scanning your features, touching your kiss-swollen lips with a proud smile on his face that says “This was my doing”.

“I’ve thought so since I came through the front door and saw you standing right about…” he shifts on the couch to get the entrance of the apartment in clear view. With eyes squinting as if to find an exact measurement, his finger points to the spot where you stood the night you first met him. “Right about there.”

Your eyes briefly follow his finger. “I thought you were disappointed.”

“Oh no,” Jake chuckles with a light shake of his head. He looks down, almost as if embarrassed, and watches his hand run back and forth over your bare knee. “No, that certainly wasn’t the case. And Nat teased me for it immediately,” he says.

Your brows shoot up. “Teased you?”

“Yeah,” is a long-drawn word. His lips curve into a smile and his eyes find yours again. “She knew I was gonna be a goner.”

When you try to conceal your blush by looking down at your fiddling hands, Jake’s grin widens. “Don’t hide,” he says, leaning over to tilt your chin back up with his thumb and index finger. “I like it.”

“You like what?”

From your cheekbone to your jaw, his knuckle draws a soft line over the pink shade of your cheek. “This.”

You would feel more self-conscious about the blush spreading to your ears and chest if not for the light rosy tint making its way onto his cheeks at the same moment. It’s a lovely shade that blends so well with his complexion and instantly confirms that what you saw at the bonfire was not a trick of the flame's glow. Your abdomen clenches with the sensation of velvety wings fluttering throughout your stomach, but the feeling disperses when a pang of something else hits deep in your chest.

Jake is already so comfortable with his kissing and touching of you. Though he is thoughtful, he doesn’t hesitate or question what he’s doing. He holds on to you like he’s done it a thousand times before. Your bodies mold to this couch as if the position you are sitting in was imprinted into the cushions long ago. He somehow knows what you like; he knows how to kiss you like a man who has been studying you for years. It all comes so naturally—to you and him—that it teeters on the cusp of unreal, and is, therefore, slightly unsettling.

Typically, you’re careful; more calculated in your interactions with people. You aim to avoid putting yourself in positions where you lose your sense of control, and yet, for Jake you let it all go. With Jake, you’re allowing the revival of parts of yourself that were slowly fading from lack of use, but it forces you to wonder if you’re capable of maintaining that freedom without him there to help you. You don’t want to clam up if he’s out of reach. You owe it to Jake to try to apply everything he’s given you so you can do right by him. If you hurt him from an inability to let yourself remain open, you expect you won’t find of self-forgiveness.

You don’t realize you’re staring off into space, your eyes on an out-of-focus plant in the corner of the room, until Jake’s hand cups your face and his thumb begins to stroke your cheekbone. When you look up at him, the smile that at some point fell from his face returns and he leans into you. His fingers slide into your hair to guide your head closer to his.

“Jake, this isn’t trouble, is it?” you whisper before his lips can meet yours.

He pauses. Then with his brow scrunched in confusion, he pulls back. “What do you mean?”

“This.”

A palm returns to your cheek and that thumb restarts its back-and-forth motion. “You and me?” he asks, but his head shakes before you can answer. “No, we are not trouble.”

Your chuckle lacks full commitment. A twinge of doubt in your capabilities weaseled itself into your thoughts, and though Jake is rather effective at shaking it, you can feel remnants lingering in a place he might not be able to reach. “You’re so sure,” you mutter.

“Yes,” he says in the limited space between you. “I’m sure.”

“How?”

When Jake sighs and shifts to rest his back against the couch, you know it is not from exasperation. If you could so easily irritate him, he would have given up on anything to do with you after twenty-four hours of you living in his space. Instead, it’s a sigh of contemplation. By the look on his face, your question is one he already has an answer to for himself. His extended thought is for your sake; an extra minute taken to piece together the most encouraging explanation that will help you understand why he’s so confident.

Your hand is encased in his and he squeezes. His stare matches yours. Intense. Unwavering. “Because,” he starts, “I more than thought you were beautiful when I first saw you. I wanted you, and I have wanted you every day since—you and me, just like this, right here. But I wasn’t going to do anything unless you felt like you could trust me,” he says. “And you said you do now, right? You trust me?”

You nod. Then he nods.

“We’ve lived together for months, and I’ve been deep in it, beautiful. Nothing you can do or say will make me think anything other than what I think of you now. So you’re not trouble for me,” he says, bringing the back of your hand to his lips. “And I swear I won’t be trouble for you. If you trust me, trust that.”

Your eyes sting and your nose fills with familiar pressure. There’s something in the ease with which Jake soothes your worries that is sickeningly overwhelming. Your method of relieving pain is, as it has always been, to flee, and after spending so many years doing so, you refused to entertain any other option. But this is Jake, and Jake is different. He doesn’t do the fleeing thing. He does the “I want what I want so I will figure out how to get it” thing. And what he has wanted is your trust, which he obtained by becoming exactly what you didn’t know you needed.

Not wanting to fall into a mess in front of him for the second time in one day, you move your legs off of Jake’s thighs despite his noise of protest and scoot your body next to his to regain some of that control.

“What are you–” he begins with a hint of worry in his voice, but you instantly silence him with the soft “hush” that leaves your lips as you throw your leg over his hips and find your balance atop his lap. Jake’s hands settle on your waist. They snake around your back and he tugs you to his chest. The awe that swirls in his eyes as he gazes up at you fills you with confidence, and you tuck a few loose strands of hair behind your ear before gripping his shoulders.

“I’m going to kiss you,” you say. Jake blinks, gulps, and nods, both of you knowing that each kiss between you prior to this moment was initiated by him. “I’m going to kiss you, and after that, we’re going to stop focusing on me. We’re going to stop talking about me.”

“I like talking about you,” he says. One hand slowly runs down your clothed spine, over your ass, and along your outer thigh, then makes its way back up. “Can’t we do both?”

“No.” As you lessen the distance between your lips, Jake’s neck stretches up to connect the kiss, but you maintain just enough space to keep him from succeeding. “I tell you something, you tell me something, remember?”

With his eyes glued to your mouth, Jake nods again.

Good, you think, because step one in your determination to remain open to him is being for him who he is for you—someone to trust. “It’s your turn to tell me why you don’t like to be alone.”

The heat of a hand finds the back of your neck. Fingers weave into your hair. “I’ll tell you anything you want.”

“What I want is to know you, too.”

Jake’s inhale expels as a soft sigh. His eyes pierce yours. “It’s heavy stuff, beautiful.”

“I can handle it,” you say. Then you lean in close so your lips can ghost over his. “Trust me.”

---

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @rogersbarnesxx @nani-kenobi @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @mamachasesmayhem @sky2nd @eloquentdreamer @jessicab1991 @rosedurin @averyhotchner @elite4cekalyma @buckysteveloki-me @shelbycillian @kissmethric3 @fox-bee926 @hangmandruigandmav @waltermis @fandom-life-12 @a-serene-place-to-be @bruher @cehenyne @tngrace @mamaskillerqueen @emma8895eb @benedictsvestcollection @blackwidownat2814 @himbos-on-ice @entertainmentgal8 @hookslove1592 @whoeverineedtobe @alwaysclassyeagle @chaytea06 @cherrycolas-things

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun #jake hangman seresin fic #top gun hangman #jake hangman seresin x y/n #jake seresin x plus size!reader #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin angst #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin fanfiction #tgm #tgm fic

525 notes · View notes

cressidagrey · 4 months ago

Text

The Ties that Bind - Chapter 8

Summary:

Shadowsingers were made, not born. Made out of trauma and loneliness and desperation.

So when Cilla and Azriel meet and their shadows entwine, they both meet the only other person that could understand these particular childhood scars.

The last thing Azriel had ever expected from his mate, however, was for her to have a surprising connection to his brother.

Warnings:

This is nearly 5k. I have no idea where it came from.

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

She shared his blood. Of all the people in the world, Cilla was the one who shared his blood. He had never thought that blood made a family. He had two brothers and he was related by blood to neither.

Cassian didn't know how he was supposed to feel about it. But then...he didn't know how he was supposed to feel about any of this.

He had never attached much significance to the notion of blood ties. After all, his own sense of family was built upon loyalty and trust, not shared ancestry. Yet, the knowledge that he was a father, especially to an illegitimate child...to a bastard...that stirred something within him that he couldn't ignore.

Of all the things he always promised himself he wouldn't do...he had done it. He had fathered a bastard. The one thing, the one thing he had held above all else on the scales of things he wasn't willing to do. He had never wanted to put a child through what he had gone through.

But it had happened now...Well, nearly 20 years ago. And it left him...sinking. How was he supposed to be a father to a girl he only just learned existed?

Cassian felt his breathing hitch as the enormity of it all hit him. He had a daughter, a living, breathing, person who shared his blood flowing through her veins. It was...overwhelming. Overwhelming, but oddly, not entirely unwelcome. There was a part of him that was starting to feel a sort of...pride. Excitement, even? It was buried deep down, but there nonetheless.

"You're brooding. Again," his mate said drily as she entered the room. His head snapped to watch Nesta make her way to where he sat in the window seat, curling up across from him, watching him with shrewdly intelligent grey eyes. "What are you thinking about?"

At her question, he let out a dry, humourless chuckle. "Just doing some...brooding," he replied, his tone filled with a mixture of sarcasm and resignation. He ran a hand through his messy hair.

He should have known about Cilla's existence. If he had known...then all of this...would have never happened to him. He would have taken care of his daughter damnit. She would have never spent decades locked into an attic...she would have never been treated as abhorrently as she had.

A surge of anger welled up inside him at the thought of his daughter's suffering. If only he had known...he could have done something. He

He could have made a difference

His hands clenched into fists as the anger and frustration coursed through him. "If I had known," he began, his voice a low rumble, "I could have...done something. Protected her."

"But you didn't know," Nesta said, her voice even. He didn't think that she didn't feel anything about it...but she was seeing it all so...so calmly.

"Why aren't you angry?" he demanded.

"If you believe it or not I have been very much aware that you had a life before me. Why should I get angry at a girl who was born before we even met each other?" Nesta said with a snort. "Besides...I think she had...enough things in her life that were horrible, don't you agree?"

Cassian blinked at her response, taken aback by her calm logic. It was so typical of her, to see through the emotional fog to the heart of the matter. He let out a sigh, leaning back against the window frame. "You're right," he admitted reluctantly. "I...I just...wish I had known. I could have been there for her...protected her from all the horrors she's been through."

"You weren't there. Through no fault of your own," Nesta said quietly. "But you are there now. And you have time, Cassian. You can fix this...Just...don't expect her to fall around your neck and be delighted with you immediately. I don't think Cilla even knows what it means to be part of a family."

His heart ached at Nesta's words. She was right, of course. His daughter had spent most of her life isolated and neglected. It was unrealistic to expect her to immediately trust and accept him simply because he was her father.

"I know," he muttered, his jaw clenching. "I know I can't expect her to just...trust me immediately. I just...I don't know how to be a father, Nes."

"Well, Rhysand didn't know it either, and he seems to be an alright job," Nesta said drily. "Don't tell him I said that, by the way."

Cassian couldn't help but let out a small chuckle at her comment. "Your secret's safe with me," he assured her, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Despite the situation, it was comforting to know that he could always count on Nesta's dry wit and unflappability.

"But...you're right," he continued after a moment. "If Rhys can do it, so can I...right?"

"Besides, you do have a secret weapon," Nesta agreed. "She's mated to Azriel. She's probably willing to meet you, just because of what you mean to Az. It's not...the perfect position to be in, but it's a start."

"You're mercenary," he told her with a sigh.

Cassian shook his head, a hint of amusement flickering in his expression. "You're right, I can always use that as leverage," he said dryly. "But that's not exactly the ideal start now, is it?" He pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a frustrated sigh.

"It's a start nonetheless," Nesta said easily. "Why don't you go over to Azriel's house tomorrow...maybe bring some pastries...see if Cilla is willing to see you for lunch."

Cassian let out a wry chuckle. "You make it all sound so simple," he said with a hint of sarcasm. "Just pop over, bring some pastries, and have a chat over lunch." He ran a hand through his hair, still feeling agitated."It's not that easy, Nes," he sighed. "We don't even know if she'll want to talk to me. And even if she does...what the hell do I even say? 'Hey, sorry I wasn't there all your life, I also can't remember your mother, but I am willing to try?' I bet she'll take that well."

"Give her a chance," Nesta insisted. "It can't get much worse, can it?"

Cassian let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "You're right," he conceded. "I guess it can't get much worse. Alright, I'll go over there tomorrow."

And he did. He brought pastries, he made his way to the mountains, where Azriel kept his little cabin...and then he could just stare as he watched his daughter soar through the air. Granted...it wasn't really soaring. It was more of an excited flapping off her wings just a few meters over the ground, with Azriel hovering protectively nearby...but she was definitely airborne, her laughter filling the skies. Cassian had never heard a more beautiful sound.

Cassian found himself rooted in place, mesmerised by the sight of his daughter flying, her wings unfurled in the air.

When Cilla finally touched down, her laughter fading into a breathless gasp, Cassian took a step forward. Azriel's gaze flicked towards him, a subtle warning in his eyes. Cassian could sense the tension and protectiveness in his brother's stance, and he couldn't really blame him. Cassian was a stranger to her after all. And she was Azriel's mate.

An even more subtle hand movement...telling Cassian to wait as he watched Azriel talk to Cilla, her hands moving, shadows clinging onto them as she waved them around to illustrate a point...and then grasp his brother's neck and pull him down to kiss her.

Really? He didn't need to see that...he really didn't need to see that...even when his daughter obviously was quite happy with it.

The kiss ended. "Cassian is at the ward boundary," Azriel said, his voice quiet but if Cassian tried he could still hear him. "Do you want to see him?"

Cilla glanced nervously in the direction of the wards and Cassian, her wings tucked tightly against her back. Seeing her expression, Azriel rested a hand on her shoulder, leaning down to mutter something in her ear. Cassian strained to hear, but he could only make out a few words..."Your choice"....and...he was pretty sure he heard something about "pastries"...

He looked down to find one of Azriel's shadows investigating the bag, and he watched with some amusement as the curious little shadow darted in and out of the bag.

Cassian couldn't help but let out a small chuckle at the sight. Even Azriel’s shadows were curious about the pastries he had brought.

"Just him," Cilla asked, her voice shaky.

"Just him," Azriel promised. "Your choice. Your pace. If you need more time tell me."

Cilla nodded, her hands twisting in front of her. Cassian could almost read her thoughts, the nervous energy she was exerting. Azriel placed a comforting hand on her shoulder again. "Just breathe," he advised. "You get to set the pace. Just you and him. I'll be right here, okay?"

Cilla nodded, her wings twitching slightly. "Okay," she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper. Cassian could see her gathering her courage. Azriel gave her shoulder one more squeeze before stepping back, his presence a reassuring presence even from a distance.

Cassian watched as Cilla took a deep breath, steeling herself before turning to face him. Her expression was a mix of hesitation and trepidation. Azriel had let down the wards around the place...or maybe just made them thin enough that Cassian could easily step through.

As he stepped forward, Cilla started, her wings instinctively flared just a bit. Her eyes widened as she took him in fully, and Cassian could almost see the resemblance between them…again. The hair…the shape of her face…her brows…her ears were pointy, much different than the usual rounded Illyrian ones…

And she stood there…silently.

Everything about his daughter seemed to be silent. Like she was scared to make too much noise.

Cassian paused a few steps away from her, holding out the pastries in an offering. "I...brought pastries," he said gruffly, his voice sounding almost awkward. He cursed himself mentally...he wasn't usually so bloody awkward...but then again, he wasn't usually meeting his bastard child for the...second time, now was he?

And the first time...she had trembled her way through the whole meeting, staring at him wide-eyed, the shadows dancing around her, clearly agitated, clearly trying to offer her comfort and failing horribly.

Yeah...that first time had been...something. Cilla had been terrified, trembling and wide-eyed, and the shadows had been a nervous, agitated mess around her.

He'd done his best to be gentle, reassuring her as much as he could. And now...he was here again, hoping that this time he would manage not to scare her.

Cassian didn't have much experience in dealing with...easily frightened people. He was used to dealing with hardened soldiers, warriors, and people who could spar, fight, and handle themselves.

Cilla was...different. Everything seemed to scare her, and he felt woefully out of his depth.

Cilla's eyes flicked between him and the pastries he was holding out. Her hands fidgeted at her sides, and the shadows around her shifted and fluttered, agitated by her nervousness.

After a moment, she reached out with trembling fingers, gently taking the packaged pastries from him. She looked down at the pastries, then back up at him, unsure what to do next.

Cassian silently observed her, waiting for her to lead the interaction. He had come prepared with pastries and conversation starters, but he knew that pushing her too quickly would only make it worse. So he waited, watching her closely as she held the pastries, her eyes flickering up to meet his and then darting away.

"How about we go inside?" Azriel suggested, for once the voice of reason. Cilla swallowed but nodded.

Cassian was grateful for his intervention. Even at a distance, Azriel probably realised that neither of them was very good at this. And Cilla grasped Azriel’s hand as soon as he was near enough, fitting herself against his side, half hiding against him…clearly pulling comfort from her mate.

He followed her and Azriel, remaining a few steps behind, his eyes taking in the surroundings, silently making note of the little things that spoke of Azriel's presence in the house…a warm and cosy little cabin.

Cilla seated herself at the table nervously as Azriel lit the fireplace. The faint glow of the fire cast dancing shadows across the room, and the crackling of firewood provided a soothing background noise. Cassian sat down across from her, the pastries now resting on the table between them.

They sat there in silence for a moment, the only sounds being the crackling of the fire

Cilla's eyes darted down to the pastries, her fingers tracing the paper wrapping of the sweets. She seemed lost in thought, her expression a mixture of fear and curiosity."The pastries are blueberry," he offered softly, hoping to break the silence.

His words seemed to do the trick, as Cilla's gaze flicked up to him, her eyes meeting his for a brief moment before darting away again. "I like blueberry" she murmured, almost to herself.

Cassian couldn't help but feel a pang of relief at her response. It was a small, but hopeful sign that perhaps he wouldn't mess this up completely. "One of my favourites, too," he said, hoping to keep the conversation going.

He'd planned several conversation topics, but they all felt wrong now. Like they would be too forced or too direct.

"How...How did the flying lesson go?" he asked, hoping that that would be...something safe to ask her. A small smile twitched on her face.

When he asked about her flying lesson, a small smile played at the corner of her lips. "It went good," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. Her wings shifted at her back, as if itching to take flight.

"I...I've never felt so...free before" she added after a moment.

"That's good," he agreed quietly. "And...everything else?" he asked...delicately, resulting in Azriel snorting as he finished tending to the fire.

"Cassian wants to know if I am treating you well," he told Cilla, her smile widening.

"He's a good mate," Cilla answered, sticking her chin out like she was daring Cassian to disagree.

Cassian chuckled at Azriel's description and Cilla's fierce defence of him. "I'm glad to hear it," he managed to say, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

He couldn't deny it, he was relieved to know that Cilla seemed happy, well cared for, and clearly in love with Azriel. He just hoped...she wouldn't hate him for all the time they'd missed together.

Her fingers started picking at the paper of the pastries, shredding the thin wrapping as if she was trying to give her fidgeting something to do.

Cassian cursed silently, noticing her defensive reaction. He had hoped that he wouldn't scare her off, but he could clearly see the tension in her body, the way her wings trembled just a bit as she retreated into herself.

He didn't want her to feel like he was trying to force anything on her or make up for lost time in one conversation. But he was starting to realise just how hard this would be.

"I..." he began, but the words died in his throat. He wanted to reassure her, to tell her that he wasn't trying to pressure her, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, he just sat there, silent and unsure, watching as she continued to pick at the wrapping of the pastries.

The silence stretched on, becoming almost unbearable. He cursed internally, realising that he was completely out of his depths. This was not something he knew how to handle.

"Cilla," he began, trying a different approach. He leaned forward slightly in his chair, hoping to make himself appear less intimidating. "I just...I want you to know that I'm not trying to force anything on you."

He paused, waiting for any reaction from her, but her gaze remained fixed on the pastries, her fingers picking at the shredded paper.

He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "I know I wasn't there for you...all those years. And...and I can't change that. And I don't expect you to forgive me for it, either."

He waited for a response, a sign that she was even listening to him. But her wings remained tightly folded around her, her head still bowed. He could see the tension in her shoulders, and he hated that he was the one causing it.

But he forced himself to continue because he needed to say this. "I just want...I want you to know that...I'm here now."

The words hung in the air like a heavyweight. He watched as Cilla's wings seemed to shiver slightly, her shoulders hunching even more. But he refused to give up, even if the hope of getting through to her was starting to slip away.

"And I don't want anything in return," he went on. "I don't...expect anything from you. I just..." he trailed off, struggling to find the right words. "I just want to get to know my...daughter."

The silence settled again, and the only sounds were the crackling fire and the soft flutter of the shadows. Cassian could see Azriel's eyes watching them both from across the room, probably silently wondering if he should step in. But neither of them had any idea what to do here.

Cilla, on the other hand, was still hunched over the pastries, her wings drawn so tightly around her that she resembled a quaking leaf caught in the wind.

What could he say to a daughter he had never met? To a child, he had missed out on so much of her life?

It was Azriel who suddenly spoke up, his voice breaking the tense silence. "Why don't you try one of the pastries, Cilla?" he suggested gently. His voice was soft, soothing, like a caress. Cilla's head jerked up at the sound of his voice, her wings twitching. "They're blueberry," he continued, shifting a bit closer from his position at the fireplace. “You said you like blueberry, right?” Cilla's eyes flickered towards the pastries and the mention of them being blueberry, her fingers ceasing their picking. She nodded silently, her body still visibly tense.

"They're probably delicious," Azriel prodded, a hint of a smile in his voice. "You should try one." As if to encourage her, he picked up one of the sweets himself, holding it out to her.

Cilla's eyes flickered between the pastry and Azriel's face, clearly torn. The tension in her body didn't relent, but she slowly extended a trembling hand to take the pastry.

"There you go," Azriel murmured, placing the pastry in her palm. He carefully let go and backed off slightly, giving her space while still keeping a watchful eye.

Cilla held the pastry gingerly, turning it over in her palm, inspecting it as if it was some rare treasure. She didn't seem very hungry, Cassian noted with a pang.

It was then that Cassian realised just how thin she was. He could see the faint outline of her bones under the loose shirt she was wearing, the way her collarbone jutted out under her skin. She looked...delicate. Fragile. As if a strong wind could knock her down.

Cassian's stomach twisted with a mixture of guilt and concern.

It felt like an eternity before she actually put the pastry in her mouth, taking a tentative and small bite. Cassian couldn't even find it in himself to feel relieved; her swallowing just made him more concerned.

Did she even enjoy it? Or was she just forcing herself to eat?

To his surprise, Cilla took another bite, her eyes fluttering closed as if savouring the taste. A small moan escaped her lips, and he could almost see the tension draining from her body as she relaxed a bit.

"Is it good?" Azriel asked a smile in his voice. Cilla's eyes opened, a flicker of surprise in them as if she had forgotten that Azriel was even there. She swallowed her bite, then nodded quietly.

Cassian couldn't help but feel a pang of...affection, and relief, at seeing this small sign of her enjoying something.

Azriel's smile widened, the shadows around him seeming to react, shifting and dancing as he moved closer to sit beside Cilla. He placed a gentle hand on her back, and she tensed momentarily but relaxed almost immediately.

Cassian could see the way she leaned slightly into Azriel's touch, seeking comfort and reassurance from his presence.

She took another bite of the pastry, her eyes fluttering closed again. Cassian could see how the tension seemed to seep out of her body, replaced slowly by calm.

He stayed silent, not wanting to disrupt the moment between the two, and simply watched as Cilla slowly started to relax, her wings losing their tension as she leaned into Azriel.

Azriel murmured something to her, his voice too low for Cassian to make out the words, a gentle reassurance, his hand gently rubbing her back. Cassian could see the shadows shifting around them, almost acting like a shield, wrapping around them like a protective coat.

He felt a pang of envy at the sight, wishing that he could be the one soothing Cilla, the one offering her comfort.

"Thank you," she whispered quietly. He hadn't expected that.

Cassian cleared his throat. "You're very welcome," he told her. Cilla looked up from the pastry, her eyes meeting his for a brief moment, a flicker of something...appreciation, perhaps, in them before she looked down again.

He wrecked his brain trying to come up with another thing to say, his eyes suddenly caught on the children's book that was laid on the table.

"Did you read that?" he asked her quietly. She nodded, hesitation bleeding out of every pore.

"Azriel's shadows taught me how," she said, her voice shaking.

"They were quicker than I was," Azriel quipped.

Azriel's comment made Cilla's lips twitch into a small, shaky smile. Cassian found himself smiling faintly as well, almost touched at the idea of her learning with the help of Azriel's shadows.

His eyes, however, caught on to something else.

"They...taught you?" he asked, curiosity piqued.

He knew that the shadows that surrounded Azriel were...sentient, to a degree. But they usually kept to themselves and rarely interacted with others. So the fact that they had helped Azriel teach Cilla how to read... It was interesting, and a bit worrying.

"They said I could hear them because I was Azriel's mate," Cilla said and Azriel pulled in a sharp breath, that little tidbit of information was news to him too.

Oh well. She was a shadowsinger herself. There were definitely weirder things that happened. It was harmless. If it brought her some form of comfort...

Who knew what it meant that two shadowsingers had mated...who knew what that meant. one shadowsinger was rare, practically mythical...two? That was unheard of.

Cassian's mind raced with questions and speculations. Two shadowsingers mating... It was unheard of. The Illyrian lore had countless stories about Shadowsingers, but none about mated ones.

And what kind of powers did Cilla have, as the daughter of an Illyrian and a High Fae? What was even possible with that kind of pairing? The one example he had was Rhys...but Rhys was also High Lord...and with that came a whole different level of power.

And there was something else that he worried about... namely that Azriel had been forced into his job because of his innate abilities...and Cilla...she had the same abilities. He didn't think that Rhysand was going to be...quite as violent as his father had been...but it was very clear that Cilla had...abilities that would make her a prize in any court.

At least she had Azriel as her mate, who would gleefully slaughter anybody who thought that they should get to lay a hand on Cilla. He could see the way Azriel's eyes darkened at the mention of Cilla's abilities, the way the shadows around him shifted restlessly, as if ready to strike.

But even with Azriel's protection, there was no question that Cilla would be a...prime target for many. And Cassian hated that thought more than he'd ever imagined.

"Have you...thought about what...you would like to do? As a job?" he asked her, hating the way his voice was sounding. Like that mattered right now.

Cilla's eyes flicked up at Cassian's question, surprised at the topic. Her wings shuffled behind her, twitching as if considering his question.

"I...I used to work in a tannery" she admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Cassian could see the uncertainty in her eyes, that fear of the unknown. She had been trapped in a cage for most of her life...she had never had to think about a career.

"Did you like it?" he asked her, and she shrugged.

"It helped me survive," she said blankly. "I...it was work. It paid."

Her words made him wince slightly. She hadn't enjoyed it, that much he could tell. Cassian had to remind himself to keep his anger at bay, that this was not the time to start raging about her past.

He took a slow, measured breath. "I see," he said carefully, waiting to see if she would say more.

"I like books," she said suddenly. "I can't read...well...or fast. But I like them."

Cassian's heart ached at her words. She liked books, but she didn't know how to read...another thing that had been taken from her far too soon. He desperately wanted to reach out, to brush away the strands of hair that had fallen into her face, but he held himself back.

"That's...that's nice," he said carefully, trying to keep his voice steady.

"There is a library in the House of Wind, where Cassian lives," Azriel said quietly. "Hundreds and Thousands of books. The priestesses that work there always need help."

But it was...it would be such a good fit for her. The priestesses were traumatised in a myriad of ways and if anybody could understand what had happened to Cilla that wasn't Azriel...the priestesses probably were the ones to do it. It was...genius actually.

The priestesses at the House of Wind had a deep understanding of trauma and pain, having experienced it themselves. They had helped Nesta, and they could help Cilla, too, in ways that neither he nor Azriel could.

It was a logical solution, and the more he thought about it, the more he was starting to like it.

"We could go to visit if you wanted to," Azriel offered.

Cilla hesitated, her wings fidgeting anxiously behind her. She glanced at Azriel, then at Cassian, as if seeking reassurance.

Cassian tried to school his expression into one of comfort and warmth, though it was hard to keep the anger at her former life out of his eyes.

Finally, she nodded silently, her wings fluttering slightly in what looked like nervousness.

"I would like that."

Cilla's small voice, the words that she had managed to say, made Cassian's heart both lighter and heavier at the same time. Lighter because she was slowly opening up, communicating, talking, and heavy because he could almost taste the fear in her voice.

It was a start. Something. And he cradled it close to his heart.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x oc #my writing #the ties that bind #azriel fanfic #azriel fanfiction

221 notes · View notes

vivwritesfics · 1 year ago

Text

Keep on Rolling - MV1

Chapter Five

Summary: Lando's best friend having feelings for anyone on the grid? Impossible, right? She worked with them, sharing her friendship with the grid with the world via the FormulaY/N youtube channel.

After film a video including... spicy water (alcohol), everything changes between her and a certain world champion. Good thing she hasn't had a crush on him since his F1 debut, right?

Right?

1.3K words

Promised QandA in next part

Series Masterlist

"Hey man," Lando said to Max one evening at dinner. It was drivers only, simply because Y/N was too busy working. Everybody wanted her there, but she couldn't spare the time.

Max looked at Lando with a polite smile, too busy eating to say anything.

"You let Y/N interview you?"

He nodded his head, still eating.

"Oh. Well, the rest of us ran away. We didn't trust it not to be a prank," Lando continued. "Why didn't you?"

Max stopped eating to look at him. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"What? No. I just want to know what you're doing with my best friend," answered Lando. This was starting to piss him off. "I don't care what you do, as long as you don't do anything to hurt her."

Max simply scoffed. He didn't have any intentions with Y/N. Whatever happened, happened. If that took them down the romantic route, so be it.

"Don't worry," he said, returning his attention to his food. "I don't plan on hurting her." He ate ignoring Lando and every other driver sat around the table. There was a good few minutes where Lando stared at him, something like disgust written on his face. He didn't mean to be pulling such a face, but he couldn't help it when it came to Y/N

***

Y/N's eyes hurt as she stared at the emails on her screen. "What the fuck," she whispered, pinching the bridge of her nose. It was seeming more and more impossible to find a moment of peace for her.

You need to look at this and give a statement, ASAP, the email said. This is the second time this has happened in the space of a month. How does this keep happening? You need to watch yourself to make sure it doesn't happen again

She read the email a couple of times over before clicking the link.

It was an Instagram post that had gone viral within the F1 community. Pictures of her with the drivers, hidden away in hotel rooms. Moments that nobody but Y/N and the drivers involved should have pictures of.

Her having dinner in Lando's apartment, Y/N and Charles walking through the hallway of a hotel together. There was one occasion where she, Lando and Carlos had snuck up to the roof of the hotel. Somehow that picture was in the post.

The worst one, though? There was a picture of Y/N and Max laying together. It must have been after the drunken quiz video, after they had fallen asleep against each other. It was such an intimate moment, a moment meant for the two of them and nobody else.

They were pictures nobody should have had. Who had taken them? Where had they come from? How did this account have them?

But then Y/N scrolled down to the comments

Username: omg she's such a whore

Username: You'd think this years championship would be interesting since she's sleeping with the whole grid

Username: I've never liked her

Username: She ruined Lando

Username: yeah I liked Carlando better before it involved her

They just went on and on like that. Thousands of them. For every supportive comment, there seemed to be two negative ones. It was horrible. How was she supposed to put out a statement about it.

So, she pulled out her phone and did the only thing she knew to do.

Ten minute later, there was a knock at her door. Y/N wiped her tears and ran to pull it open. "Oh thank god," she said through a sob and wrapped her arms around him.

Lando walked her further into the room and pushed the door shut behind him. “Tell me what happened,” he said and sat her down on her bed. He sat beside her and Y/N instantly placed her head on his shoulder.

"People are horrible," she sniffed as she pulled up the Instagram account.

Taking her phone from her hand, Lando scrolled through the pictures before getting to the comments. As he read them, his grip on Y/N was tight, growing tighter with every horrible comment.

"I've never seen these before," said Lando as he scrolled back up to the pictures. From the way they were taken, they couldn't have been fan pictures - they must have come from someone right there with them.

Lando pressed his finger against the power button and dropped Y/N's phone into his lap. He pulled her close, running his fingers through her hair. "Don't worry, we'll get to the bottom of this."

There was nothing they could do that night. So Y/N locked the door, double checked the lock and then pushed her bedside table up against it.

Y/N and Lando fell asleep together, spread out across the bed. They'd fallen asleep together several times before. They'd been doing it since they were kids, sharing a bed on sleepovers. It was a habit that hadn't died and had only taken breaks when either of them were dating.

"Promise everything is going to be okay?" Y/N muttered in her sleep as she rolled towards the door.

Lando's answer was a snore.

***

Max was used to his phone blowing up over night. He was a world famous Formula One driver, it was bound to happen. But, when he scrolled through his notifications this time, everything was different.

Pictures, none of which he had seen before. He was in some, but the one thing every picture had in common was Y/N. Max ignored all the pictures that didn't have him in the, all the pictures but the last one. The one of him in bed with her/

Nobody had been in the room with them, Max had made sure of it.

His phone vibrated in his hand. But it wasn't who Max hoped it would be. It wasn't the girl he had been pictured with. It was his father. Jos Verstappen. Just the man Max didn't want to be speaking to.

He swiped his finger across the screen and pressed his phone to his ear.

Have you ever been berated by an angry Dutchman almost to the point of tears. Max had. He'd been berated by his father so many times before. Even now, as a twenty five year old, it still stung just as much as it had when he was a child.

Jos ran through the list of all of the news article headlines he had read that morning. All of them about his son and the youtuber that had been following the grid around like a lost dog.

As much as Max wanted to defend her, Jos didn't give him the chance. He sat there in silence as his dad shouted at him down the phone. When Jos finally hung up, Max let out a sigh.

Suddenly there was a knock at his hotel room door. Now in a foul mood, Max stood and opened up the door.

"Hey," he said, letting his visitor in.

The visitor said nothing and walked into his room. "You need to stay away from Y/N."

Max stared at Lando. He said nothing, just stared, so Lando continued. "Stay away from her. Stop falling asleep with her, stop going near her. She doesn't need you to fuck up her life."

Max sat himself back on his bed and patted his thighs in a repetitive pattern. He'd just gotten enough of this from his father, he didn't need this from Lando, too. "What gives you the right?" he asked. "Why can't she make her own decisions?"

"She doesn't know what she wants," Lando spat.

Max shook his head. "I think you're wrong," he said. "I think she knows what she wants and you're unwilling to listen to her."

Suddenly Lando was very close to him, getting in his face. "Stay the fuck away from her," he growled and marched out of the room.

Taglist (Open): @sticksdoesart @eviethetheatrefreak @eugene-emt-roe @glai1023-blog @mqcherie @itsjustkhaos @chonkybonky @arian-directioner @lazybot @lpab @princessria127 @fangirl125reader @honethatty12 @larastark3107 @urfavouritef1girly @cassiopeiia24 @callsign-scully @lexiecamposv @dl-yum @savagecelery @laneyspaulding19 @formulas-bitch @teenwolf01

460 notes · View notes

official-cvntified-gay · 8 months ago

Text

Play Pretend (Reneé Rapp x Reader)

𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘮 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘴 "𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦"

﹒⪩⪨﹒

"It's all for publicity Reneé" Her manager explained, she tilted her head at her management. She's still skeptical about the idea, her manager didn't say who.

"I don't know... who is it with?" She finally asked, her team looked at each other before Adam said your name.

"Y/n L/n" she swallowed thickly, not believing her ears.

"Now why didn't you start with that?" She mumbled incredulously. Adam rolled his eyes at that, knowing that the deal's already settled.

A few weeks into your new relationship, the teams discussed how you would blow this relationship up. Truth be told, you're just doing this for fun, you were asked for help by a dear friend.

And it also didn't hurt when you have such a pretty thing.

Given your reputation, you don't need any further proof that you're successful. Your name speaks for itself.

Some would say you're doing charity work. But looking at Reneé's endless potential, you think otherwise. You wonder what else could you help her with.

You argued about that with Adam. But he explained that the management "wants to speed it up" which you called bullshit, seeing right through them.

But you both won't lose anything if you do this.

So, here you are. In a well-known bar, hands wrap protectively around her waist. Despite your argument that she doesn't need you to boost her name. Your teams suggested that you go out on a date to stir the conversation.

But you found it to be cliche, knowing this situation quite well. You told them to trust you with this and took Reneé to a bar, of course, you asked if she was all right with this and she agreed instantly.

"You alright, darling?" Your words are smooth, and you are quite known as someone suave. And that's exactly why Reneé admires you. Your thumb caresses her clothed skin, and you pull her closer to you. You gave her a soft smile when she let out a small gasp.

"So pretty in my arms" You caress her cheek with your other hand. She let out a ragged breath, her breath warm and her hand on your chest trembled lightly as she squeezed her thighs together.

"Yeah! Let's grab a drink!" She brushed off the situation, enthusiastically pulling you to get a drink. You spend the night having fun. Your bodies dance with each other as you try to converse through the loud sound of music and people.

"Are you having fun?" She questioned, hands around your neck while yours on her waist. Your body glistens with a few sweats.

"I am actually." You grinned while you swayed your bodies. "So how is this supposed to boost us?" You smiled at her, before whispering in her ear.

"Trust me." You winked before letting the music take over your bodies, once you both had enough. You took her outside. Making sure that she's well taken care of.

Outside the bar, you found some bench to sit on. You notice how her hair bothers her, so you put her hair into a ponytail, kissing her forehead after doing so. She mumbled a small thank you while looking up with those eyes of her.

"You're adorable" You gave her nose a peck before removing the jacket you wore, and you put it on her. Making sure to check on her every few minutes.

Reneé knows her limits, but for some reason, she wants to be taken care of, especially if it's from you.

She wants to be babied.

"Can we go home?" She asked softly, you couldn't help but giggle at her cuteness. You nodded "All alright darling, I'll call my driver" With that you call your driver, her head on your shoulder while you stroke her cheeks softly as you talk to June.

You kissed her head, you put down your phone. Smiling when you notice something in your surroundings. You continued stroking her cheeks while she slurred out her drunken thoughts.

You nodded and agreed with her throughout her speech, smiling fondly at her. It's not hard to like this woman.

After a few minutes, June pulled up. You carefully guide her inside the car. Taking her to your house, you help her sober up for a moment in your guest room. You gave her your hoodie and comfy pajamas. You prepared some ibuprofen and water in case she woke up with a hangover.

"Holy shit!" You heard her voice, your face forming a proud smile as your plan worked. You sip your coffee while you wait for her.

"Good morning, darling" you greeted with a rasped voice, she looked up from her phone to look at you with wide eyes. "You've seen this?" She walked closer to you to give you her phone.

"I made breakfast" You motion your head to the food you set up for her before looking at her phone.

"Cute pics," you said calmly, Reneé looked up from her eating her food. You sounded like you're just looking at some cute dog pics.

"What?" She asked confused, you gave her phone back.

"Send the pics to me, we look cute," you said before continuing with your coffee. She quickly dm the pics to you.

You saved the pics that the paparazzi took last night at the bar, you saw them taking pictures before you went home. They are so predictable, hanging where they know celebrities hang out.

So you weren't surprised when the pictures would end up online. You forwarded the image to your team, sending them an "I told you so" message.

"How'd you know?" Strangely, Reneé doesn't call you with pet names. She felt that it was too intimate for her. Knowing that she would mean it if she called you any pet names.

"Doesn't matter, but it's probably all over socials." Knowing her fans and yours, it was all over the media.

"What do we do next?" she had a few ideas in mind, and you smiled at her. "Nothing, we watch how they take it" Renee nodded, knowing that you were right and her pounding head didn't give her a chance to answer.

"Did you take the ibuprofen?" you sigh when she shook her head. "I was shocked and ran to find you" You set down your cup before walking away to get her something to cure her hangover.

"What do you wanna do today?" Once you handed her the medicine she asked.

"Get to know each other" you answered surely, knowing that to successfully fool the public. You have to at least know each other.

You both spent the day with each other, it was nice. You got to know each other, surprised at how comfortable and easy it is to speak with her. You notice how you enjoy her presence and her personality.

Renee's drawn on you, listening to every word you say. She likes you and it's not hard to like her. Throughout the day you painted each other's nails.

You took a quick picture of her painting your nails, knowing what you should do next. She noticed you taking pictures and posed for a few photos before concentrating again.

Renee found these moments memorable. She knew she would think about this for a while. Once the day ended, you two parted ways.

You scroll down on your phone, you smile as you see countless of images and a few video clips of you and Renee at the bar. You scroll through TikTok to see your For You page full of edits of yours and Renee's. You applaud their creativity.

You saw a few vids of influencers talking about your so-called "hard launch" Time flies as you watched, liked, and reposted some few TikTok about relationships. Not reposting videos of you both. But liking a few cute videos since for sure the creators would inform their viewers that you liked the vid, that would lead to them further believing your relationship.

You sent a few cute edits to Renee, laughing at her comments. You both discuss a few things that you could do together to feed into the already blowing-up conversation.

Reneé's never reliant on one person, she likes to do things herself. But she's always saying yes to you. Going along with your plan, she loves how you take initiative.

"You do it your way baby. I'll follow" she says, now more comfortable with throwing pet names. You always make sure that what you're doing is for both of your benefits.

Deciding to keep appearance, you take her into one of your many interviews. And Reneé just follows because she knew you would take care of her needs.

"What are you doing?" Her voice is soft and small, she follows your movements with her eyes. "Just making sure you'd be comfortable" You held her hand and lead her to the set. You greeted everyone and introduced yourself.

"Hi, I'm Y/n L/n and I'm gonna be reading some of your most unhinged thirst tweets." Once you're in front of the camera, you're in your element. You're one of the most requested people to read some thirst tweets. You winked at the camera, while silently preparing yourself.

Because knowing how Twitter can be, you let out a giggle as you read the first tweet.

"I want y/n to manhandle me, choke me, spank me. Thank you" you giggle in between your sentences. You look at the camera and the people behind it, laughing as you hide your face with your hands.

"Ma'am? I guess we're starting with a bang. I hear you darling" You grab a new paper, muttering an "Oh God" as you read the sentence.

"It's from @calmed_t1ts I want y/n to breastfeed me like the mother she is" I looked at the camera while biting my lip. The staff laughed at the tweet and I could hear Reneé let out a small scream when I read the tweet.

"You know, my mother never breastfed me-" I proceeded to tell a whole different story at the same time acknowledging the tweet.

"I want this framed in my room by the way." You shook your head with a wide smile, before grabbing the next paper.

"Oooh, come here darling" you motion for Renee to come as the tweet addresses you both, you look at the staff for approval and they nod.

You guided her to sit on your lap casually, and you gave her the paper for her to read.

"Looove the username, deal" Renee nodded, not even flinching at the tweet. She looked at you for approval. You shrugged your shoulders at her.

"Give me details, darling" You looked at the camera, and before you could say something. Renee remembered something.

"Oohh remember when you-"

"Okay, thank you so much dearest!" You gave her a quick tight hug to silence her, before you playfully motioned her out of your lap. She giggled while she stood up.

The rest of the segment where with Reneé, it's unplanned but it was so fun and memorable. It shows how easy things are with Reneé.

You couldn't wait to see where this thing leads you...

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘮? 𝘫𝘬

(𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘮�� 𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘱 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦😭)

𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘯𝘥

#renee rapp #mean girls 2024 #regina george #regina george x reader #renee rapp x reader #mean girls #lesbians #gay

360 notes · View notes

loki-hargreeves · 1 month ago

Text

Cherry Pie

Pairing: Blue Jones x f!Reader Warnings/Tags: It's Blue which should be a warning as itself, crime, abusive ex-boyfriend (not named), violence, name-calling, guns, hurt/comfort Word Count: 3.5k Summary: Blue doesn't get attached to anyone, so why is he going out of his way to protect you, someone he barely even knows? You're supposed to just be the girl that works at his favourite diner. A/N: I'm deep into a Blue phase thanks to @lis-dotcom

Blue is a busy man. He spends most of his time running his business, caring for his affairs, his girls, his henchmen and whatnot. To fix everyone's messes and keep his ever-growing kingdom in check. His lifestyle requires his attention seven days a week, twelve months a year, especially as this town is filled with dense and reckless wannabe criminals plotting against Blue's carefully cultivated empire. He simply can't let anyone slip through any cracks so he has to work, work, work.

There are rare moments when he does have time for himself, such as when he eats an extremely late dinner at a diner near his club. Some people might consider it breakfast, as it is past midnight. The diner is almost always quiet, which is a nice change after spending hours at the club, listening to music and drunken patrons drooling after the girls. Blue finds an odd sense of comfort in the neon lights on the signs on diner windows, the soft sounds of the waitress tidying up after a busy day, and the smell of coffee and delicious, fried foods and desserts.

Today his favourite dessert is on the menu, cherry pie.

He sits in the corner booth, eyes on the entrance at all times. Not that he has to keep his guard up, he has henchmen surrounding the building and some are sitting in separate booths inside. Blue chooses to be aware at all times because he sure as hell doesn't trust anyone fully, not even his own men. He's seen a few backstabbers too many. Tonight, his eyes are more than just cautious. He's keeping an eye on the waitress, you. You recognized him today, not as the criminal he is, but as a regular of the diner.

The telephone rings behind the counter, catching Blue's attention. He's not exactly discreet as he keeps his dark eyes on you, out of curiosity. He watches as you wipe your hands on your white apron before grabbing the phone. He notices how you play with the cord. wrapping it around your finger.

"I'm working," You mutter into the telephone, attempting to muffle your voice. Unfortunately for you, it's almost 4AM and the diner is almost empty. Blue hears everything. He wonders who's calling you at this hour when you're working. By the looks of it, that isn't a welcome phone call.

"Please. I..I still have a few hours left. I'll call you in the morning," You attempt to reason with the person on the other end.

Blue digs into his dessert, tasting the sweetness on his tongue. It tastes extra good after a long day. As he eats, he finds himself thinking about you. Why are you working this late? In this town? If you have a boyfriend, Blue doesn't respect him. He should know better than to let a pretty girl work in a place like this without any security around.

"No!" You suddenly whisper-yell, sounding startled. Blue raises an eyebrow and takes a sip of his coffee. It's not even anything fancy, just normal diner coffee that has probably been in the pot for too long, yet it's what he longs for.

"Everything okay, sweetheart?" Blue speaks up, not at all too shy to speak to you. Why should he be?

You glance at him, now embarrassed that your personal phone call is affecting your job. Quickly, you hang up and put a fake smile on your face. There's no need to make the customers worry.

"Everything's fine, sir," You insist and look around. There are only a couple tables taken. Blue has a booth to himself and you notice a few guys in dark suits by another table. They don't talk much so you assume they're federal agents or something.

"You sure?" Blue smiles while taking another bite of pie.

"I promise," You tell him. It's a lie, obviously, but you wouldn't vent to a customer either. That's unprofessional.

Blue hates liars. He sighs and shakes his head. This isn't his club though, and your business isn't really any of his business. He can't force the truth out, nor should he care. He has bigger issues to worry about instead of some waitress he barely knows. Hell, the name on your name tag might even be fake.

"Care for a refill?" You ask him and hold up the pot of coffee, freshly brewed and meant to replace the old, bitter coffee by the counter. It's late and you're tired, so you're definitely pouring yourself a cup.

"Sure, sweetheart," He nods. He still can't shake the feeling that's growing in his gut, like something's wrong. He smiles as you get closer to his booth. "Why don't you join me?"

Your eyes widen in surprise. Then your mouth opens to speak, the first instinct is to tell him no. Then you realise that there is barely anyone there and you did want to get a coffee. Perhaps it wouldn't be that bad if you sat down with him. This man is a regular by now, as you've seen him here on countless nights. Always sitting in the same booth.

"I wouldn't wanna bother you, sir," You smile although you already grabbed a cup for yourself.

"Oh, you could never," Blue purrs. He enjoys watching you being so polite and treating him all nice. You have no idea who he really is.

You refill his cup and pour yourself one too. Then you join him, sitting on the opposite side of the booth. For some reason, doing this makes your heart race. No one ever said you can't have a coffee with a customer but something tells you your boss would yell at you for this. Luckily, he ain't there.

"Is it just coincidence or do you always work nights when I'm here?" Blue wonders. He can count on one hand, the times you haven't worked a nightshift when he's been to this place. You're always here. In your pretty pink waitress outfit and white apron.

"I was about to ask you the same thing, you're here almost every night," You smile and sip your coffee. You would be lying if you said he hadn't piqued your interest. Blue is mysterious and really attractive. plus he tips well. Every time you catch his rich, mahogany eyes watching you through his long, dark lashes, it gives you a rush. As of lately, you've found yourself thinking about what he does for a living, why he's always there at night and what his name is.

"I get off work late," Blue smirks, enjoying this interaction. He can talk about his life vaguely without revealing he runs a criminal empire, more or less. You treat him like a normal person. The innocence and trust in your eyes are intriguing.

"I see," You nod slowly, too shy to ask him too many questions. "Well, I do too. Or perhaps going home in the morning is early instead of late. Either way, my boss keeps giving me nights and here I am."

Blue narrows his eyes. Now that you're this close, he sees you in a different light. You're even more beautiful than he realized. At the same time, he sees the weariness on your face and in your body language. Poor thing.

"Your boss should know better than to give nights to pretty women like yourself," Blue mutters angrily, too seriously to sound like casual flirting. Like he actually feels pissed off at your boss.

His words take you by surprise. There's a compliment in there and you immediately feel flustered, trying to hide behind your coffee cup as you sit it. Trying to seem unaffected but he can see right through you.

"Darling, you don't have to be shy. I mean it," Blue teases you further, enjoying the way his words affect you.

"Uhm... I just, I guess he just gives me nights because it's convenient. It is what it is," You shrug, not focusing on his compliment at all. It's not fair how this man you don't really even know can make you squirm in your seat, just like that.

Blue watches your lips as they touch the edge of the cup. So pretty and soft-looking. He can't peel his eyes away from you.

"Convenient huh? How so?"

"Well most people working here have people waiting for them at home, or they study. They can't work these hours," You tell him, blindly putting your trust in him. Someone else might've left out the detail of not having anyone waiting for them at home. Blue almost takes pity on you for trusting him this much.

"Doesn't sound like it should be your problem, sweetheart," Blue says bluntly. He has a tendency to be very sharp and honest. He hates lies, even when they come from his mouth so he tries to avoid doing it.

"What about you? Who's the one keeping you at work until these hours?"

That's just sweet. Blue thinks you're endearing. He wonders how you'd talk to him if you knew who he really is.

"I'm my own boss," He tells you the truth but he leaves out all the nitty gritty details. "I own a club. I like to be there during open hours, to make sure everything goes by smoothly."

"Woah," You're surprised to hear that, as you hadn't expected some club owner to dine here. It isn't exactly the fanciest diner around. "You must be a busy man."

"You have no idea."

"What club do you own, if you don't mind me asking?"

Blue sips his own coffee now, taking a moment to think of what he should tell you. Would you even know if he said the name of the club? You definitely don't look like any of his regular patrons.

"A little place called the Lennox House," Blue reveals casually, studying your reaction. Just as suspected, you don't seem to have a clue what he's talking about. "A gentlemen's club," He adds after a while.

"Oh," You seem flustered again. He keeps surprising you. "That must be why I'm not familiar with it," You seem surprisingly calm about the revelation. He had wondered if you'd be judgemental but of course, you aren't. In his eyes, you're sweeter than the cherry pie on his plate.

"I don't think I've caught your name," You tell him with a hint of hope.

"You can call me Blue, sweetheart. Blue Jones."

At the end of your shift, as Blue and the strange men in suits leave, you find a tip left on the table for you. There are 500 dollars in bills on the table and a note that says; don't tell your boss about this darling. Treat yourself. - Blue

Later that week, Blue finds himself once again yearning for something sweet, sweeter than pie. After closing up the club for the night, he's already on his way to the diner with a few of his guys. Blue hopes that you're working tonight because seeing your cute face would make his day so much brighter.

He straightens his suit jacket and heads to the entrance, eager to get out of the cold, rainy street. As soon as the bell rings, signalling that he's entered the diner, he hears a man yelling. Blue's smile falters and immediately he's on edge but not scared. It's like an instinct, to find the source of yelling and deal with it. In a way, Blue has become possessive of this place.

"~you fucking bitch, how hard is it to understand?!" Some guy screams his lungs out behind the counter that's supposed to separate the staff from dining customers. Then Blue sees you, standing near the telephone nervously.

Blue glances at the man and doesn't hesitate to get closer. He's not impressed by what he's seeing or hearing. Blue sees red because this man had the audacity to insult you. By the looks of it, he's done more than just insult you. Blue catches the way you're clutching the side of your jaw in pain as if you've been hit.

"Leave her alone!" Blue demands as calmly as he can, giving this idiot one chance to leave quietly. Just one.

Blue's henchmen have surrounded the counter by now, standing beside Blue. They're all armed but their weapons remain hidden under their coats for now.

Your eyes are open wide in fear and shock. Not because of Blue but because of your ex who waltzed into the diner as soon as you were alone. It feels like a miracle that Blue showed up when he did because your ex was starting to get aggressive.

"And who the hell are you?" The man asks Blue, clearly too stupid to read the room and take his chance to leave.

It almost makes Blue laugh. If only he didn't feel murderous rage right now. The men behind Blue should know that Blue is very trigger-happy.

"I'm your worst enemy if you don't step away from her," Blue growls angrily. He can feel his blood boiling already, his fingers twitching with a need to give this man a taste of his own medicine.

"Now!"

The man glances between Blue and the men in suits behind him. If he were smart, he'd realize he's outnumbered and outgunned.

"So this is what's going on huh?" The man suddenly laughs. He's not in the right headspace, that much is clear. Whether he's on something or plain old stupid, it doesn't matter to Blue. The damage has already been done.

You step back in fear as your ex gets closer, "you've been fucking some gangster? Does that make you feel good about yourself huh? Getting over me by screwing some bad boy fantasy of yours?"

"Leave me alone!" You cry out and feel heat creeping up your neck and face, his words leaving you feeling humiliated.

"No-" He insists and grabs your wrist painfully, "you're gonna come home with me and I'll fix that messed up head of yours."

"Stop! It hurts!" You wince in pain and tear up. When you yank your arm, his grip just tightens.

"Oh boo fucking hoo," He mocks you, "Say bye-bye to your boyfriend, sweetheart."

Blue has had enough. Patience is not one of his virtues and he still gave this asshole a chance, yet he blew it. He grabs his pistol from its holster and doesn't hesitate to load it.

"Very few people make me repeat myself and live to tell the tale," Blue says chillingly. "So I suggest that you let go of the lady and step back."

Finally, one of the synapse connections in that man's thick skull seems to work. He lets go of your wrist and steps back, actually stunned by the sight of a gun. The brief silence is satisfying to Blue because he knows that he's in control now. Just like that.

"Woah, man," He eyes Blue's gun closely, too afraid to even blink. "We're on the same side here. This isn't the kind of girl you wanna help. She's-"

"Shut up!" Blue snaps in anger, not wanting to hear it. This piss poor excuse of a man has gone too far. There's nothing he could possibly say to sway Blue's mind.

"I don't care who you are," Blue makes it very clear and gets closer step by step, "I don't care who she is or was to you, I don't care what she's done," Blue adds, wanting to rub salt to the wound. To break the fragile masculinity this asshole has. "And I don't care about you. The only reason I haven't put a bullet through you yet is because I'd hate to get blood on such a pretty girl."

By now, they're almost face to face. For good measure, Blue puts the tip of the gun underneath the man's jaw. He looks him right in the eye as he gives him a good scare, and man it feels good. Blue knows that this is a coward deep down and that's why he has hurt you. It's also why he'll leave you be from now on and slither into his little hiding place to sulk.

"You won't ever bother her again, understood?" Blue tilts his head and pushes the gun against the man's chin, the metal ice cold against his skin.

"Yes," He swallows thickly and cold sweat begins to form on the man's forehead. He looks ghastly.

Blue wants to hurt him so badly but it takes one glance at you to hold himself back. You're standing there, eyes wide with fear and something else. Could it be intrigue? You're not trying to run away. You're watching Blue closely instead almost like you approve of his methods. Despite that, Blue won't risk scaring you off too by getting violent.

"Scram," Blue tells the low-life and steps back, towards you almost like a shield.

The man takes off as soon as the gun isn't pointed at his head. He runs past the henchmen and to the door, disappearing into the night. Blue looks at one of his men and nods, signalling for them to follow the guy and figure out where he lives, maybe even teach him a lesson.

Finally, Blue can focus on you. He puts his gun back into the holster and approaches you carefully. Even though you don't know each other that well, he reaches out to cup your cheek, feeling how you're trembling.

"Are you hurt?" Blue needs to know, scanning you all over with those dark yet warm eyes. Searching for injuries. Blue notices that your face seems tender and slightly swollen on one side. Then he sees the tears in those pretty eyes.

"I'm okay," You insist and lean into his comforting touch. Against your better judgement, you find comfort in Blue as he did just save you from your insufferable ex-boyfriend, and whatever he wanted to do to you. Even with the creepy men behind him and knowing Blue has a gun, you trust him.

"Thank you," You whisper and close your eyes for a moment, letting a tear roll down your cheek.

Blue sighs and caresses the side of your face gently, "Such a pretty thing like you shouldn't be in a situation like that."

He called you pretty again. It's almost shameful how that's what you focus on after getting the scare of your life.

"Don't worry, I won't let him get near you again," Blue promises. His protection rarely reaches outside his club. Usually, Blue has to protect his girls at the club from the wrong kinds of patrons. This is new territory, as you're not one of his dancers nor do you work for him. He just wants to protect you for the sake of it.

Blue pulls you closer into a hug and he presses a kiss against your head, wanting to comfort you. Perhaps it might seem tender but he is possessive of you. The light of his nights, sweeter than cherry pie. He'd be damned before he'd let someone take you away.

And you accept the hug because you need it. For some odd reason, his comfort makes you tear up even more. As if your fear can step aside and allow you to feel everything. You cling to his expensive suit and bury your face against his shoulder. The scent of his cologne and tobacco quickly fills your lungs in an oddly comforting way.

"Come on, darling," Blue coos and rubs your back, "you're safe now."

"He got mad because I left him a-and... I was trying to... get a restraining order," You reveal, professionalism far out the window at this point. Right now, Blue isn't a regular and you don't feel like acting like how a waitress is supposed to.

What a dick.

Add that to the list of reasons why Blue won't let that guy get away unchecked.

"Is that so?" Blue hums softly, still caressing your back. "It's okay, I swear he's out of your hair now."

It seems like your ex's words about Blue being a 'gangster' didn't register in your brain. Here you are, clinging to Blue for comfort and not knowing to fear him. That perhaps you too would be best off running away.

"You're not safe working late all alone, sweet thing," Blue reminds you, knowing he has made comments about this before on his many late visits to the diner.

Look how right he had been.

"I..I know," You sniffle quietly, "but it's my job."

"Screw that," Blue responds softly, "your boss has provided no security here at night, letting you work alone. We're closing up and you're coming with me tonight, okay?"

After saving your life and hugging you so tenderly, it's hard to even imagine saying no to that. You're aware that you shouldn't go anywhere with someone you barely know but right now, none of that seems to matter. Your ex knows where you live and he could come back to the diner, and at this ungodly hour, there's nowhere else to go. Perhaps, you'd be better off with Blue tonight. Besides, Blue's extremely generous tips have helped you save up and leave your ex in the first place.

"Alright," You nod, not giving Blue a hard time.

Blue smiles, feeling satisfied at how well you listen. It feels good that you trust him so deeply already. He's a complicated man but somewhere beneath all that, he does care about you in his own way.

"Good," Blue praises and rubs your shoulder, "come on. Let me take you out of here." Just like that, Blue puts an arm around your waist and leads you outside. Before you go, you throw your apron to the floor and don't even bother locking up, too shaken to think about such things. Fuck that place.

A/N: Okay I finally finished this instead of letting it rot in my drafts. I really hope you like it! If you did, a reblog would mean the world to me 🧡

#Blue Jones #Blue Jones x Reader #Blue Jones x you #Blue Jones x f!Reader #Blue Jones/Reader #Blue Jones fanfiction #Sucker punch #Blue Jones sucker punch #sucker punch fanfiction #Oscar Isaac characters #Blue Jones hurt/comfort

73 notes · View notes

cydanite · 1 year ago

Text

"You remember that you are a distinct being with a finite form and a mortal body."

!!SPOILERS for the ending of StP!!

Concept sketch for my interpretation of Slay the Princess’s protagonist. I like the canon vagueness of his design, but I came up with a concept I wanted to explore c:

He has 2 pairs of wings, one on his head and one on his back. The "Narrator", in trapping him, clipped his wings and disguised them as hair and a cloak. Best to not to give any reminder that flying out of the woods is even an option.

The smaller pair wrap around his head like hair, the few remaining primaries folding over each other as bangs. On the “thumb” of the wings are birds feel, decoratively chained together. Don’t be fooled into thinking that chain isn’t meant to hold, though.

The larger pair drapes limply off his shoulders like a cloak. It’s fastened by an X shape. You know the one, when people are lazy with drawing medieval clothing (myself included) we use it as a closure, a formless cross drawstring. You don’t question it when you see it. You wouldn’t suspect it’s two massive metal staples puncturing his flesh.

He can’t see his wings for what they are, so he doesn't feel through them. Not until he can manage to remember...

(also i wrote a snippet hehe)

The Narrator: The pain is threefold.

First comes stiffness, an ancient ache creeping in from the edge of your perception.

Awareness of this newfound sensation latches on to your mind and pulls, quickly fracturing into a sprawling map of new body parts.

It’s your hair. It hurts, in ways hair shouldn't be able to hurt. Every fiber protests against you despite being just hair mere moments ago.

The fabric of your cloak betrays you as well. You're inescapably aware of the space you now take up. New, itching, uncomfortable, ugly sensations form all down your back.

Voice of the Hero: It's like we just regained blood circulation there. We're being stabbed a thousand times over.

The Narrator: It doesn't end there. Injuries that previously gone unnoticed now make themselves known. You recall running sharp fingers through your hair. Only now can you feel the dried blood. You would've taken better care of that cloak if you'd known it was made up of you.

Voice of the Hero: But what's happening to us?

The Narrator: The web of pain maps out its shape. Two pairs of feathered wings become part of your body once again.

Voice of the Hero: 'Once again'... having wings makes sense, I suppose. But how could we have forgotten this? It seems so inescapable now.

The Narrator: But as you go to reign motor over your limbs once again, the third pain rears it’s ugly head… cold, harsh metal digs into your flesh.

It pins your limbs in their poses. A tiny set of cuffs pull small wings taught around the circumference of your head.

The closure of your "cape" is two enormous staples, staked through your flesh and clamped down hard. There's no blood here, the wound long since healed.

...Who or whatever did this to you, it was never intended to be removed.

Voice of the Hero: Maybe we should keep more vigilant in the future. If we can't trust our own body... I don't want to think about it more than we have to.

#im mushing this game and it's characters around in my hands like silly putty. Rotating in my head isnt enough #ask to tag. I feel like just maybe this deserves a content warning but idk what that would be #slay the princess #slay the princess spoilers #stp spoilers #stp the hero #stp the protagonist #stp the long quiet #slay the princess fanart #black tabby games #blood #mutilation #body horror #tw body horror #non-consensual body modification #thank you worldbeyondtheworld for the tag suggestions!

326 notes · View notes

doctorbunny · 4 months ago

Text

This will be written sloppily due to me being stuck on my phone but the report today got me talking to a friend and reminded me of a theory I had (I think it originated from @archivalofsins though)

Still, I'll share it again for fresh eyes:

I think Shidou could be making Mahiru sicker instead of helping her

So the gist is that at the start of trial 2, Mahiru was in a critical condition and had her life saved by Shidou

After that she entered a period of injury but stability

We saw through timeline conversations that she was in pain but seemingly able to move around and do things with some assistance

Yuno then gifted Mahiru a wheelchair, the clear implication being that this would let her continue to live as she had been but without as much pain (ambulatory wheelchair users often talk about how their chairs give them more energy/spoons to do other activities too)

Similarly, in Shidou and Mahiru's voice dramas they discuss her health but there doesn't seem to be the kind of urgency suggesting that Mahiru needs to be immediately moved to a hospital in order to not die (Shidou tries to ask Es to "end milgram" but if Mahiru was going to die without urgent care that could've helped his case yet he didn't mention it, even in normal prisons if a prisoner is severely sick or injured they're supposed to be taken to a hospital [not to say real prisoners don't experience medical neglect or abuse but officially they aren't meant to] )

At most he brings up the idea that another guilty vote could be detrimental to her mental health -but he's not an expert or anything

As I said, this all painted a picture of Mahiru as injured but stable until her next verdict

And we forgave her

But then things take a turn

Suddenly Mahiru is requiring round the clock care

Shidou can barely stop for a birthday shoulder rub. Yuno is taking breaks during Mahiru's naps

She appears to be bedridden and her wheelchair hasn't been mentioned since she got it

If we accept time doesn't move in milgram that could explain injuries not healing but it would explain such a dramatic, unexplained decline

We know Shidou has built his personality around being a doctor. A necessary figure who saves people's lives. So it would be a little awkward if he didn't have any patients (since Fuuta apparently didn't feel like he could rely on him and instead joined the anti medicine cult, a common pattern in those who lose trust in doctors after being mistreated)

I don't think Shidou is evil (although it's pretty bad to poison your patients) I think this doctor-patient relationship is almost co-dependant for him, after all its what his inno vote is based on.

It does leave him in a vulnerable position though

He's potentially turned one person mostly able to look after themselves with some medical assistance/supervision into a patient that even with 2 people is causing him to be spread thin

If Mahiru dies he'll be blamed (and I'm sure Yuno is watching him if he does anything too suspicious)

But if another incident happens before T3 and a lot of people get injured again

Or Amane incapacitates him, preventing him from treating the others

There could be a pile up of casualties with not enough people to look after them all

Hard decisions may have made

It could be a triage

#shidou kirisaki #mahiru shiina #milgram #ミルグラム #milgram theory #not really but putting it there anyway #my backup theory is still that they're hiding a baby but i think this is more likely

76 notes · View notes

weebsinstash · 1 year ago

Text

I feel like there's a heavily under-utilized possibility in some of these ideas I've been coming up with and it's like. We all want to say "Oh Miguel is so intimidating because of his size, Miguel is such a threat because of his physical strength"

"What if Miguel found out the two of you were canon and forced you to be together" girlies and what if Miguel found out the two of you were canon and he has a full on Miles Morales level INTERVENTION in a room with all your Spider Society friends who are like family to you. This man has the weapon of EXTREME PEER PRESSURE on his side, like, how many of us WOULDN'T at least completely break down crying at that?

Even if it's not to be with Miguel himself and it's just for the marriage canon event stuff, to have that many people corner you in a room like that over such a sensitive and intimate topic, like they're basically trying to emotionally badger you into having a relationship you're not ready for and may even be SCARED OF, and also, imagine being so offended at Miguel as someone who was supposed to be your boss and coworker, "Really? REALLY?? You're telling me you had to turn this into A BIG THING? You're having a fucking INTERVENTION right now?! ALL THESE PEOPLE had to be here for this?!"

You've even got friends and mentors and people you trusted there. Peter B as an older adult who you've been confiding personal shit and self doubts in, apparently having been telling Miguel everything behind your fucking back, he's there, all "I know you're scared but you've got to take the leap of faith, look at how happy I am with Mary Jane and Mayday :)" and its like yeah and you had to be traumatized by losing Gwen Stacy first! And maybe you're scared of being hurt and taken advantage of and just have trauma and stuff but, they essentially keep telling you to suck it up, you can't break canon, right?

Like imagine some time ago you opened up to Peter B about, "I think I maybe want a baby but I don't have a partner and I'm scared, I'd want to be perfect and give my baby everything and I know I'm not good enough" and you tell him some of your thoughts and feelings and he's actually like so touched and is all "caring that much is exactly what a good parent would say :)" and you two Have A Moment and he makes you cry and sees you genuinely so vulnerable and. Fucking. Later on when you're gradually over time being socially shunned and encouraged to spend more time at home to date and shit, and eventually this full on CONFRONTATION. Peter B or Miguel whips that shit back out again, "it's not just canon, it's also what you want, you're just scared. You've been WANTING a baby, havent you?" and you're just hurt, "Peter you fucking told?!" and you're paranoid about, what else has he loosened his lips for? Some things, or everything? (It's everything lmao, fucking motormouth "I care about you because you're an amazing person and I do this for your own good" sellout ass--)

I just feel like we all underestimate the sheer power and emotional blackmail over him being able to put you in a room with so many people who are all listening to him and agreeing with him. Like this doesn't even have to be yandere for all of them to be pressuring you because "oh don't break canon muh muh muh, we care about you and it'd dangerous and we don't want you to die" like this could be terrifying in any scenario

And of course just really imagine Miguel finding out the two of you are canon and when he finally tells you in a probably really clumsy mechanical way after failing to woo you, you completely reject him and maybe even start actively defying him by trying to see other people or at least just fucking other men, and he gives you an intervention for that for some of his little vaguely cult-like followers to pressure you to basically get non-con'd by your boss who you had thought of kind of like a friend until all this. Miguel finally snapping and absolutely losing his patience after you keep rejecting him and even sleeping with someone else (both you AND Hobie would fuck each other just to spite him even if there weren't any feelings there lmao) Miguel finally corners you, you can feel the rage boiling off of him but he's trying to contain it, for you, and he's got you physically cornered, towering over you, it's legitimately terrifying, and he's growling about how he wanted to try and do this the right way, he wanted the two of you to take time, to have a proper wedding, he wanted to be good to you, but if you're not only going to be risking canon (that's how he's truly justifying all his behavior, ain't it) but also fucking other men, then he has no choice but to tie you down now, doesn't he?

Let's see other men touch you and try to take you from him once Miguel's gotten you pregnant. He either follows through with his threat right then and there OR, you have to beg him to not do this, to give you one more chance, you knowing you couldn't fight him off and resorting to pleading, "please don't do this, if we're supposed to be together you'll ruin our entire future by doing this, I'd never be able to forgive you, please just give me another chance" and you're shaking and terrified and fuck it maybe even pissing yourself because he's absolutely huge and you're realizing the gravity of being cornered and alone with him, like as a Spider you're strong and tough and fighting bad guys with confidence, but with him, someone who's on your level, even higher, you're just a helpless little woman again that he can do as he pleases with and it terrifies you that you're suddenly confronted with the realities of what he's willing to do

So now you're breaking up with any flings you may have been having even if it breaks your heart and are trying to force yourself not to freak out around Miguel and be a good little fiancé, forcing yourself to try and not tremble when he's around you, try and force yourself to look on the bright side as he begins courting you and asking about what kind of wedding you'd want, forcing yourself through it all because, if you don't do it 'willingly', if you're not walking on your own two feet with a forced smile, you're now horribly aware that he'll drag you, HE'LL make you, and you don't want to see how far he's willing to go to have you

#yandere spiderverse #yandere miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #yandere stuff #sinprompts #genuinely just listen to the canon event ost and picture being pressured in a room by them all like some cult. scary stuff

763 notes · View notes

devisopod · 4 months ago

Text

Book of Bill Ramblings

If you don't want spoilers, I'd suggest you stop reading before the cut. This'll contain quotes from the book! I've avoided content and conversation about this thing like the plague, so I'm going in blind. This is gonna be a wall of text if you're on mobile. Have fun, if you're into that.

I'm gonna solve the ciphers by myself, so they won't be included here, it's more fun that way! This is all just my "analysis" or whatever you wanna call it.

|| PREFACE

I am an adult. I'm not here to argue or debate with anyone about the content of this book! I'm simply sharing my personal breakdown, so these opinions and statements are in no way meant to be taken as "the right way" to look at it. They're how I alone choose to view the text! I'm open to discuss it, if you want, like sane and civilized people. Heated arguments or grumblings fueled by the discontent that someone doesn't buy into the way YOU'RE perceiving a work of fiction is unwelcome.

Now.

Before I even had the book in my hand, I knew how I wanted to approach this. I had to keep in mind this is all meant to be written by the worst character in the series (from a narrative standpoint), and he isn't supposed to be pitied. So seriously obvious, I know, but it's THE most important factor to circle back to given ANY tidbit of information.

Since this is his point-of-view, which is such a skewed perspective to begin with, it's ultimately bound to be manic (and god was it). He's everything we already know him to be: out of his mind, a compulsive liar, a pro at manipulation, and literally so self-important. That's what makes it difficult to trust whether or not things that happened (or didn't happen) will be altered by his unstable state of mind.

I think I'd even go as far as to say that he's delusional in a lot of ways. No matter how smart he thinks he is, or objectively is, he's a highly flawed individual that is constantly sabotaging himself. And what's more, he doesn't CARE. Bill, while driven in his own right, is highly apathetic unless events or actions directly impact him significantly and negatively.

INITIAL AND UNCATEGORIZED THOUGHTS:

- Holy shit, it's like Bill prides himself on being some sort of "all-knowing" being, but he's really just a fat gossip.

- Bill says it and stresses it multiple times in this book that not only is reality not under your control, but you don't understand it. Only he understands it, and you're just too dumb. Nothing is real. But the universe is a hologram, and everything is also a multiverse. Dennis and Kyle hold our existence in a binder.

- As suggested, he is quite literally feeding you lies, and he's having fun doing it.

- So, Bill's kind of dead, but not really. He's existing in a "half life" state. "Descending through circles, battling demons, reliving [his] whole life... somewhere far away... where the music is always out of tune. Where everyone smiles but no one is happy". Sounds like a mall lmao.

Okay, we'll get into it. My back hurts.

1 || "SIXER, IT WOULD EAT YOU ALIVE."

Let me just start this by saying that Bill sees Ford as a possession. He spent a lot of time grooming him, so he feels HEAVILY entitled to Ford in an "I made you" sort of way. Which is just about as messed up as you'd expect it to be! Bill EXPECTS Ford to be okay with this and even functions under the assumption that Ford wants to belong to him, which is very likely a stem from how open to the relationship Ford was at the beginning. He's constant in sharing that he's grateful for Bill's influence and that it's made his life so much better.

That aside, Bill is repeatedly suggesting to the reader that people that hate him actually love him a lot. And it's so likely that some twisted line of love and being used was blurred between these two. I've said it before and I'll say it again: sharing a mind and a body with a seemingly god-like being is going to fuck you and your perspective UP, I don't care who you are.

After all, "the more people love you, the more brainwashed sheep you can bend to your whims! So CONQUERING HEARTS is one of the most important things you can do!"

While, Ford is an immensely strong-willed individual, he's so very weak to Bill's manipulation because Bill knows EXACTLY what he wants to hear. He's been learning and planning for this kind of thing for a very, very long time and using countless others to do so. So, his false loyalty and promises, though really suspicious to anyone else, appeal to Ford's ego and subconcious because they're specifically catered to him.

And this is where Bill thrives. He is extremely efficient at finding the selfishness within others and exploiting it because he is selfish. He doesn't care what happens as long as he reaches his goal. Any pain along the way isn't gonna be his, so why not just relax and enjoy it? And he's found his match: a "brilliant, morally ambiguous, and romantically challenged" individual. To him, Ford fits the bill (no pun intended), and no dumb Shaman is gonna scare him off this one. It's all a trick to keep him away from advancing his portal plans, right?

He emphasizes his excitement at the prospect of Ford's potential as a pawn by saying, "This is what a partner looks like. The ego of a king. The insecurity of a circus freak. And totally isolated from anyone who might steer him clear of my plans."

He's impressionable and gullible enough to follow him blindly in the name of discovery and arguably as a result of his alienation in the odd town that is Gravity Falls.

And that's where I think Bill's influence should be addressed. Bill's been whispering in Ford's ear, making his life easier, and "fixing" his problems by offering solutions that HE would use. That's the scary part, I think. Bill uses so many different types of flattery, even gives Ford a lot of confidence that he needs, which really feeds into Ford's trust.

2 || GUYS WITH BIG BRAINS GET ON MY NERVES

After seeing Stan on TV, selling the "Grifter", Ford starts to seem like he's having second thoughts about maybe calling Stan up. Bill is, naturally, quick to shoot this down by convincing him it's a waste of time.

With both Stan and Fiddleford, we see Bill kind of steering Ford away. It's clear Ford wants to be around both of them, but as Bill has already suggested, he wants to keep this one isolated. Ford's attention should ONLY be on him and the work that needs to be done. He's not gonna make the same mistakes he made with his previous puppets.

It's unclear whether Bill complicates things on purpose or not, but he certainly isn't interested in making them better.

As far as the relationship between Ford and Fiddleford is concerned (whether you view it as brotherly, romantic, or platonic), I think it had a lot of potential to bring Ford away from Bill, but Ford is just not equipped to be a solid and reliable partner at this stage of his life. He's too focused, too full of himself, and really desperate to fill the hole Stan left. Or maybe not desperate enough.

I've made this point before and I'll make it again: the vast majority, if not all of, the heavy lifting in the dynamic between Ford and Fiddleford IS DONE BY FIDDLEFORD. He is a very caring and loyal person, very much to a fault in this situation.

The Christmas gifts he makes Ford are very personal. Ford means a lot to Fiddleford, so much so that he doesn't see his family often and chooses to help with the research. Whether or not Fiddleford and Emma-May were already having issues can't be judged based on the information given, but it's possible that it plays a part in his absence. It seems like the most likely possibility to me, though. Fiddleford doesn't seem the type to just forget about something like that, especially exhibiting such a friendly and kind demeanor, so I'm willing to bet they were already having problems.

Ford, as I see it, very rarely goes out of his way to do things for Fiddleford, though. However, I will give him props for being good enough to cheer Fiddleford up after he returns from his family.

What I will say, is that Ford relies on Fiddleford a great deal, and I'm not entirely sure how healthy that is. Fiddleford is Ford's ONLY real friend, and definitely the only one not feeding him questionable advice.

Therapy.

3 || CUCKOO CLOCK

Therapy, right? Yeah.

Anyway, Bill REALLY gets after Ford when the whole portal thing goes south. And that's sure to be a hell of a time. Ford is put through immense pain physically and mentally during it all, and wow does it actually sound horrifying. Even during this aggressive and desperate scramble to get Ford to do his bidding, Bill is beating Ford down and trying his best to use his hardships against him while also trying to convince Ford that he needs Bill. He's got nobody else.

He tries everything: sabotage, threats, you name it. Even though Ford doesn't realize his wrongs entirely here, he still knows he has to do something to rectify all that he's done. And boy, does he wanna kill that triangle.

He even loses his mind just a little bit more about this time, grasping at straws and realizing how bad he fucked up.

But now, we skip ahead. Things are better. All that's passed.

The ending of this book was about as satisfying as I imagined it would be. The Pines family. Simple and clean. A thoughtful message from Ford, and some inserts from Mabel, Dipper, and Stan. Stan's message is probably my favorite, and rightfully so.

These four are what it's all about to me. Each sibling has the other, and they're all happy. Bill can't touch them anymore, no matter how much this book of his tries. They're smarter than he is, and it's because they don't intend to be divided by him ever again.

#i'm going to stare at something else now #i was so tired by the end of this #gravity falls #book of bill #book of bill spoilers #stanford pines #ford pines #stan pines #stanley pines #mabel pines #dipper pines #fiddleford mcgucket #text

68 notes · View notes

familyabolisher · 1 year ago

Note

Would you elaborate on why you don't really believe in addictive personalities? I find that a useful descriptor for myself that reminds me how easy it is for me to get into unhealthy behavior patterns. I have to fully stay away from tiktok and gacha games(I will never go gambling) because I know I can't trust myself with them. I also have to be REALLY careful with alcohol, etc. I have adhd and bi-polar, and I like having a phrase that describes my experience without being too over-medicalized and relating everything to diagnoses. I'm curious why you don't like it as a construct/whatever your opinion is!

personal explanatory power is one thing and i wouldn’t begrudge you that but i don’t really see how it has any materialist usage; and ultimately, like, i’m a marxist, any way in which i evaluate a framework that’s supposed to explain something in the world has to come from the assumption that the world is best explained through historical materialism. ‘addictive personality’ with no further elaboration is an idealist claim which obfuscates crucial points of discourse around addiction and the conditions that give rise to it—and indeed the conditions which cause us to name one substance or action as ‘addictive’ over another in the first place. addiction is materially punished; through social stigma, but also through housing discrimination, workplace discrimination, policing & incarceration, psychiatry, the sorts of forces that add up to eventually facilitate the conditions of social murder. we only have to look as far as the war on drugs to understand how ‘addiction,’ the consumption and circulation of substances regarded as ‘addictive,’ is not a prediscursive state but one that can be leveraged to violently enforce conditions of hegemony and quell insurgence through carceralism and social murder. i also just heavily distrust psychology as a field and certainly don’t buy these appeals to an essential self as a self who ‘has’ xyz tendencies as though xyz tendencies (such as the traits given in the five-factor model which is applied to ‘explain’ a predisposition to addiction) are anything other than postdiscursive descriptors we’ve imbued with meaning relative to a postdiscursive normalcy. i think psychological theorising around personality tends to obfuscate materialist frameworks in favour of methodologies which presume and reify normativity (eg. the claim that those more vulnerable to ‘addictive personalities’ have a stronger tendency towards ‘social alienation’ and ‘nonconformity’ without defining what constitutes ‘alienation’ and ‘conformity’ in the first place—as though personality traits simply appear out of thin air).

as we’ve seen dozens of times, “addiction” is a slippery term easily wielded towards reactionary ends. “porn addiction” is a line taken by anti-sex work radfems; “food addiction” is infamously unscientific and preying on cultural predispositions towards fatphobia; “internet addiction” is similarly flimsy and frequently deployed in theories of cultural degeneration. this doesn’t mean that the clusters of behaviours we term “addiction” aren’t “real” in the sense that some people do develop dependencies on particular substances, but that the term can be used to draw connections between the reactionary attitude held towards addiction & its attendant connotations (of infantilisation, justified removal of autonomy, incarceration, psychiatric intervention, and so on) and whatever the wielder wants to malign (porn, food, using the internet). if we reify the idea of there being an ontological state within ourselves by which we are more or less prone to “addiction,” we by implication act against the necessity of interrogating what is meant by “addiction” and why it is being invoked in the first place; we also place all our explanatory eggs, so to speak, in the basket of the individual cast as “addicted,” rather than turning our attention towards the source of the “addictive” substance or object and its material origins + usage.

so it bears asking what we’re obscuring and what we’re facilitating when we give legitimacy to the idea of an ‘addictive personality’ in the public discourse, which is what i meant when i said that the term has no materialist explanatory power for me—casting someone in the role of an addict, even if only in the hypothetical, allows others to enforce the stigmas that such a role entails, through, for example, infantilisation, denial of autonomy, and reluctance to treat the individual’s behaviour as worthy of respect, compassion, and mature response. it creates a telos out of addiction under conditions wherein addiction means incarceration (literal or psychiatric), discrimination, ostracisation, everything i just laid out in the first paragraph. it makes addiction into a fundamentally individualist discourse which must therefore have individualist solutions, rather than a complex nexus of social conditions and discourses that we can describe and then fight against.

#ask

458 notes · View notes

mcflymemes · 8 months ago

Text

PROMPTS FROM LIFE IS STRANGE, SEASON 1 * assorted dialogue, suggested by ismelodrama, adjust as necessary

everything is a picture waiting for be taken.

you're just jealous of me because i actually do the things you can't.

are you hiding something?

i'm sick of your disrespect. tell me the truth!

i don't want to fight with you anymore. i don't want to fight with anyone anymore.

i was eating those beans!

how the hell did you know about that photo?

always take the shot. my number one rule of photography.

you just don't listen, do you?

there's something weird going on with you.

you've only been here for three weeks and you're already causing conflict.

after this week, you are certainly not a little kid anymore.

not now. i'm contemplating shit.

are you fucking kidding me? this is major bullshit!

i didn't have all the evidence at the time.

we all make decisions we regret.

i'm not gonna make any excuses for my behavior.

i'd put stephen hawking against picasso any day.

it sucks to be dragged into the spotlight.

nobody believes me anyway.

you're exactly the kind of soldier i'd want by my side in a war.

why the hell not?

i almost asked you to hang out.

you should have asked me.

maybe we're too much alike.

i don't believe anything you say. you're full of shit.

eat a dick, [name].

i'll be in the tardis getting my delorean ready.

since you're the mysterious superhero... i'll be your faithful chauffeur and companion.

you don't know who the fuck i am or who you're messing around with.

where'd you get that? what are you doing? come on, put that thing down!

don't ever tell me what to do! i'm so sick of people trying to control me!

so you can't help me?

i told you before that i'll always believe you.

i may be a pest but... i'm a good listener.

you're the bravest person i've ever known.

for every action, there's a reaction.

i'm trying. but you have to understand my position.

i know i can be a pain in the ass... and you've always treated me like a person, not a beta nerd.

why do you want all your friends to die?

oh i see. i'm not important to you anymore.

nobody lectures me. everybody tries though.

do not analyze me! i pay people for that.

hey, that's total slander!

you don't know shit about my father, or me.

you're all fucked!

everybody hates me.

[name]... it's me. i just wanted to say i'm sorry.

i truly am sorry for being such a bastard.

you would have been cool to hang out with.

you might as well choose me.

i'm not perfect, okay?

you have talent, [name].

you don't have to push people out of your way.

thanks for admitting again that i have some talent.

do you think it's, like, fate we're not supposed to be friends?

nobody says we have to be friends.

everybody lies. no exceptions.

i came for all of you.

i'm in a nightmare and i can't wake up.

no wonder they call it a "web." nothing can ever get out.

i wish i could go back in time and erase everything.

just tell me you do have the photograph.

now shut up and listen.

i'm not a real scientist.

i was just happy just being your friend.

[name], i'm so sorry you had to go through all that.

i don't think i can concentrate on going out to the movies.

everybody pretends to care until they don't.

even angels need angels, [name].

i might be naive, but i feel their struggle.

why did you stop me from jumping?

this shit pit has taken everyone i've ever loved.

when a door closes, a window opens... or something like that.

i keep going back in time.

how could there be a more important moment in history?

thank you for trusting me.

hey... be careful out there.

what kind of friend are you?

you never understood me, or what happened to me.

i'll always be alone, thanks to you.

just in case we don't get out of this...

i'm going to make the right choices from now on.

i've been feeling like this might be actually the end of the world.

i hate to say that i'm glad to see you, but i'm glad to see you.

i wish i could stay in this moment forever... but then it wouldn't be a moment.

if that tornado came right now, i would just sit here and watch for a while.

i just feel like escaping.

i have total faith that you'll do the right thing when the time comes.

with great power comes great bullshit.

am i pushing myself too hard?

you like to hurt people, huh?

i'm glad you decided to escort me.

i know this is a bad time, but can i get one picture?

of course i believe you. you're the most amazing person i've ever met, and i'm glad you trust me.

i don't have a fucking clue what's going on.

247 notes · View notes

bonny-kookoo · 1 year ago

Text

Jungkook

𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 | Hide Me

Wrong place, wrong time, wrong everything. And yet, maybe it's not as bad as you thought.

Tags/Warnings: Alien!Jungkook, Human!Reader, Angst, injury, medical things such as needles, mentions of potential murder

Length: ~2k words

A/N: T H E R E I S N O T A G L I S T-

-> Masterlist

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──👽── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

Okay, your plan might not work the way you'd hoped after all.

You'd wanted to just get away from earth for a while now- with the intergalactic union basically punishing the whole human race for ruining planet earth, by taking away any humans from leading positions in the government, and by entirely changing the law system across the globe.

But down the line, money seems to be enticing even for people from outer space- and so the humans with the most of it had stayed in their roles, corrupting the system even more these days.

You don't want to be here to watch everything inevitably crumble.

What you didn't really plan for had been the drunk guy robbing you just half an hour before you were supposed to go to the port where the interstellar cargo ships would soon get ready to fly out to other planets to trade produce and other food products. But really, you can't pay much attention to your own injury, because otherwise you'll miss your chance entirely.

And considering they only fly out once every two to three months, you really don't wanna miss this.

So you go through with your plan despite your blurry mind- hunger and your injury by now having definitely made things more and more difficult to handle. You mostly trust into your instincts at the moment, unsure if you could really pay attention to anything out of the ordinary in order to check your plan- but maybe you should've.

Because now that the heavy steel doors close, and the ship starts to rumble, engines starting, you realize that your environment isn't what you'd expected to find as you lift the heavy tarp from over your head a little.

It doesn't make sense.

The interior, now that you look at it, looks nothing like the cargo ship from Heza that you had been supposed to be boarding. There's also been almost no security, no other staff around, no guards or even workers seen anywhere.

Everything is metal, a bit bent and busted here and there but still good and well taken care of. The model of the ship must be the same as the one from Heza -

But this is absolutely not the ship you thought you were sneaking into.

This is bad.

It's the worst, in fact, considering your still throbbing and probably bleeding wound, which had also not been part of the plan. The shaking of the ship finally subsides, a calm buzz and steady vibrations instead filling the space, your ears feeling strangely pressurized, something that subsides after moving your jaw a little. You know what this must mean.

You're no longer on earth.

Well, this is a problem now. You don't know where the hell this person is traveling to, let alone who owns the ship in the first place. For all you know, it could have no pilot at all, flying on pure autopilot which would at least make you feel a bit easier knowing that only actual cargo ships fly predetermined routes like that.

You feel like you're gonna throw up. Your stomach is so empty that your throat is closing up, or at least that's what it feels like. And considering this isn't a Heza ship, there will probably be nothing edible here at all.

And suddenly, there's a rumbling noise, metal scraping on the floor as the pressurized doors open, causing you to hide under the thick plastic coverings again, hoping, praying no one finds you. Boots click on the floor, and you hear chains hitting each other in high pitched noises, leather squeaking a bit and then-

You hear plastic being lifted. Whoever is currently here is aware that you're not supposed to be here. That something's off, not quite right. They're searching for something.

Someone.

You hold your breath as if that's gonna help you at all, but you know it won't. The steps echo closer, closer, closer, plastic tarp being lifted and placed back over and over again around you. And suddenly, the tarp you're underneath lifts as well, and you're sure you're visibly shaking, especially when something cold hits the back of your head.

A gun, for sure.

"You got one try." A male voice states, the click of the gun heard and felt against your scalp and oh God, you're gonna pass out, either from blood loss, hunger, or the fact that there's someone pointing a fucking gun at you-

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't shoot you through the airlock right now."

Well, fuck.

You think hard, unsure what to really tell him- you don't even know if he's human or not, can't catch a glimpse of him considering he'll probably shoot you right away if you were to try, so you can't adjust your answer according to his race either. So, really, what do you have to lose now?

You're probably going to die either way- so why not just throw out your honest intentions.

"I'm trying to escape earth." You simply say, voice trembling as it's hardly loud enough to reach him properly.

"Why?" He presses on, leather moving again with distinctive noise as he squats down, gun still against the back of your head. "Are you a criminal?" He asks, and you shake your head.

"No." You answer. "Just.. over it." You shrug, tumbling forwards a little as you lose your balance for a second, brain becoming dizzy.

"Give me your name." He demands. "I will try and verify your information myself." The man says, and you laugh to yourself.

"Well, too bad." You chuckle. "I don't have a name. Got a number though, if you want it?" You slur by now, growing increasingly nauseous as your body seems to be hot one second and icy cold another. It seems as if he's noticing your state by now as well, hands moving your arm upwards as he inspects the blood staining your shirt by now.

"How did that happen?" He asks, and you try and explain- but there's no thought properly formed anymore. "Hah..., weak things." He mumbles to himself as he lets you fall forward onto your side, unable to sit upright any longer. He isn't very gentle as he lifts you up, over his shoulder to carry you out the cargo area of his ship and down several hallways like nothing but a sack of potatoes, into a room that looks awfully sterile and small. You're barely conscious, really, as you only somewhat feel him lay you down somewhere.

Everything between that, and now, as you wake up with a feeling of sudden panic, is just not there.

Your wrist is bound to the metal frame of the simple bedframe in the sterile, small room, machines beeping and occasionally making other noises as a voice rings out through a speaker, a sound echoing to signal an announcement. "Don't think your weak body will make me overlook the fact that you're a stowaway that illegally entered my ship." His voice echoes through the room. "You've broken human laws, and I'm required by the intergalactic union to report your crimes." He says, and you flop down onto the bed at that, a hand on your face desperately trying to hide your tears. That's even worse than getting shot through the airlock.

So you act out of panic, sitting up to rip out the IV line from your arm. "Hey- stop that!" He barks through the intercom, but you don't listen, as you try to squeeze and wiggle your hand out of the handcuffs bound to the bed, tugging on other sensors connected to your body, uncaring of the harsh sting and slight blood you're drawing.

It's when the only door of the room opens, and the man walks in, boots heavy on the floor as he leans one knee on the bed, grabbing your wrists that you're forced to stop your little panic attack. "Stop that." He growls, looking at you with both annoyance and anger as he watches you. "What in canis major is fucking wrong with you?" He scoffs, a low, clicking like sound in the back of his throat as his eyes glow an angry red.

"Throw me out the airlock then." You ask, frustrated tears brimming in your eyes as you look at him. "Shoot me in the head, I don't care." You tell him.

"Death won't lift your crimes, human." He tells you lowly. "You should've considered the consequences prior to your actions." The young man says.

"Hah, as if I didn't do that!" You bark at his face, and he leans back at that, eyes shifting slowly from their deep red to a more orange hue. "I'm not going back to earth. At least not alive." You say with a final tone to your voice, and at that he gets up, sighs, his eyes a pale yellow-ish brown as he opens them again to move around, and pick up the IV you'd tugged out from your arm, discarding the used needle before he moves to get a new, packaged one.

"How did you loose your name?" He asks, as he walks around, prepares the IV again it seems like, while you sit on the bed, legs tucked in closely. "I've looked up the number inked on your wrist. What you said about your identity seems to be true- but there's always a reason why humans loose their names, and yet there was no criminal record attached to you." He explains, and you shrug.

"Just.." You shrug again, glaring at him a bit as he rather roughly tugs your hand away from your knees, turning your forearm to locate a vein again. "Not worth it, I guess. I'm not trained in any field that's considered valuable, and I'm also not very smart- so I lost my name when I turned twenty-one because I'm not valuable enough." You say.

"That doesn't make any sense." He furrows his brows as he places the IV back in with not much regard to you hissing when he pishes the needle into your skin, securing it with medical tape before he adjusts the machines and sensors again.

"Yeah well, a lot of things don't make sense on earth." You mumble as you watch him, hissing a bit when he tugs on your skin too roughly as he checks the large plaster covering your stab wound.

"Stay here now, and stop being ungrateful for my care while I go over some things." He says, and you tug on the handcuffs a bit, as if to remind him. "What?" He asks.

"Are you.. not taking those off?" You wonder, and he seems almost amused as he looks at you with a slightly pinkish undertone in his eyes.

"No." He simply answers, door opening with a hiss of the hydraulics. "Wouldn't want you to get too comfortable here, after all."

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #bts jeon jungkook x reader #bts jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook imagine

538 notes · View notes