#Victoria Full Moon | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

caesium-55 · 8 months ago

Text

—seven days. [ v ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: sorry it took a while compared to the other chapters. i finished up my lab reports in my surveying class. this is not edited nor is it beta read and i dont remember much on what happened during the 2018-2021 seasons so pardon me if there are inaccuracies. anyways, welcome to max's pov. u can say im stalling on the shitshow that will happen once max discovers that reader resigned. lemme know what you think.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @juky-ps @cassianswh0reeee @devotedlycrookeddonut @amberpanda99 @supermaxv1

masterlist.

2018

“Who’s that?”

Daniel looks up, cheeks stuffed with the sandwich he was eating for lunch, “Who?”

Max cringes internally. His mother always told him and Victoria to not talk when his mouth was full, she called it bad manners, and now, he is understanding where she was coming from with those lectures. Nevertheless, he doesn't reprimand Daniel. Instead, he gestures to the girl standing a few meters away from their table in the Red Bull hospitality staff cafeteria, who was happily chatting with two Red Bull senior engineers whom Max recognizes to be Elijah Stuart and Richard Fox.

It is the first time Max has seen her. A new employee perhaps? Perhaps not. She lacks the company standard uniform.

Daniel trails his line of sight to where Max has pointed, “Which one? Richard?”

“No,” Max groans. Daniel blinks.

“Elijah?”

This is quickly becoming annoying.

“The girl, Daniel,” Max says, his exasperation bleeding through his words. “She’s not wearing a Red Bull polo.”

Daniel’s brows rise to his hairline, head snapping back to Max, “[Name]?”

Then, a shit-eating grin erupts on his lips. “Are you interested in her?”

“She’s not my type,” Max’s denial comes quickly. Is it even considered denial if it’s the truth? In his twenty almost twenty-one years being alive, Max never really put a lot of time into thinking about what his ideal type would look like. But he is sure that the woman of his dreams will look very far from the woman who was successful in catching his attention because you are wearing a black shirt in a sea of Red Bull polo shirts.

You with your eyes that forms into tiny crescent moons once your face breaks into a grin, you with your smile that shows too much gums and too much teeth, you with your hands that moves too much when you talk, and you with that too loud and too obnoxious laugh that comes even with the lamest of jokes. You’re like Daniel in a way. All happy sunshine vibes.

Max is watching you close, observing how you were interacting with Richard and Elijah. They're old men and no one should look this happy while talking to boring, old, white men, who worked more than four decades in the engineering industry so they only know how to speak boomer language and everything engineering. Surprisingly, Elijah and Richard seem to be having fun talking to you. A miracle on its own because they never even look that happy talking to Daniel Ricciardo and everybody in Red Bull Racing adores sunshine honey badger, Daniel Ricciardo.

“I didn't say anything.”

“You're thinking about it.”

“How would you know what I’m thinking?”

“Because you’re currently on a quest to erase my singledom. I can put two and two together.”

Daniel snorts, crossing his arms over his chest, “Maybe I just want to let you meet new friends.”

“I have enough friends.”

“You don't have friends that are not racers.”

Max presses his lips in a thin line.

“She’s my manager, by the way.” says Daniel, leaning back into his seat.

“What happened to Nick?”

“He’s on leave,” Daniel says. “His wife’s giving birth soon. She’s my temporary manager for a few months. Or I don't know, maybe the whole season.”

Max brows rise in pleasant surprise but says nothing.

“Now that I think about it, she’s around your age. How old are you again? Twenty-two?”

“Twenty,” Max corrects. His birthday is still months away from pre-season. On the end of September.

“Ah, she's older than you. Oh wait, here she comes. Hey, [Name]! Here!”

Max flinches and his heart begins ramming against his ribs erratically that he thinks he’ll undergo cardiac arrest in a matter of seconds. He does a double take—why am I even panicking?—then forces himself to calm down and straightens up in his seat. His shoulders and neck are still considerably stiff and his palms are slowly becoming sweaty. He swallows an invisible stone in his throat.

“¡Hola mi amiga, [Name]!” Daniel greets and his Spanish accent sounds off that it makes [Name], who stopped right in front of their table, giggle and when Max looks up at her through his lashes, it almost feels like the world is turning too rapidly on its axis and it’s making Max dizzy. Daniel and her do a friendly handshake—when did they reach this level of friendship?

“Hola, Daniel,” she greets, smiling. Your accent reminds Max of Carlos, but unlike Carlos, who possesses a very distinct Spanish accent, yours sounded subtler than his and it's mixed with the charming rhythm of words that reminds Max of sunsets in the south. You pronounce Daniel’s name like it has two syllables instead of three. Dan-yel instead of Dan-i-el. Suddenly, Max is curious as to how his name will sound if it originates from her mouth, how the syllables will roll off her tongue. Max will still sound like Max. Nobody will mispronounce that name. But Emilian and Verstappen? How will you say it?

“Hi Max.”

The Max sounds plain even though you’re smiling when you greet him. She didn't say Max the same way she said Daniel, whose name was uttered with a certain fondness.

“Hello,” Max’s chin dips slightly into a nod.

“Eat with us,” Daniel invites and he is already dragging a chair from a nearby table to their table before Max can fully register what he’s doing.

“You sure?” you ask, brows raising slightly at Daniel’s abrupt invitation.

Daniel waves his hand dismissively, “Yeah, yeah, Max wouldn't mind. Would you, Max?”

Suddenly, two pairs of eyes are on him and his throat feels dry. He cannot speak. No words leave his mouth. Empty brain, zero thoughts. In the end, he nods and you join the two for lunch.

Max frequently sees you following Daniel in the paddock. You remind him of a dog. No, even dogs do not follow their owners this much. Or do they? Max wouldn't know. He is a cat person anyway.

Max’s main point is this: not even the other racers’ managers follow them around this much. Not even Max’s manager follows him this much. (No one tell Max that this was due to the fact that he scares his own manager. Imagine a middle-aged man scared of a Dutch racer half his age with anger issues.) But you follow Daniel around like he is the sun and you are planet Earth and you need to be constantly revolving around him to achieve universal balance. And for some reason, your actions cause something odd to stir up in Max. He is annoyed. Of what? Maybe because you are so good to Daniel? Maybe he wants someone to be like that for him, too? His manager is not as proactive as you. Yeah, maybe that’s it.

And if you are not with Daniel, which is a rare occurrence, you’re hovering around the Red Bull mechanics. You even go as far as bringing them coffee in the mornings and that annoys Max even more. Daniel, he can understand if you brought him coffee, but the others? No. You don't even bring Christian Horner coffee. Why only them?

Whatever.

You are such a suck up. Max hates suck ups.

Baku 2018 was a bad race, a total nightmare for everyone in the team. The moment Max got out of that car, he was burning. Figuratively, at least. The engine of the RB14 is the one burning, in a literal sense. Horner is red in the face when he sees Max and Daniel, and he yells at them to cool down before they do the formal stuff of apologizing and dealing with the FIA and all the formalities that Max rather thinks are bullshit.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice raising, when he sees you approaching. “Aren't you supposed to be with Daniel?”

“Water?” you offer the water bottle to him and Max knows full well it’s supposed to be for Daniel. Max saw you offering it to Daniel earlier when the two of them stepped into the Red Bull garage after retiring from the race but the older man has declined your offer before stomping off somewhere else to cool down.

“No.”

He is not going to take the scraps of someone else, even though he is thirsty as hell.

You nod, shrugging your shoulders and saying, “Okay.”

You crouch on the floor and put the water bottle in front of him with a neatly folded face towel balancing on top of it. Then, you rise and walk away, leaving Max to glare at your back as you fade away from his view. Once you disappeared from his line of sight, he drags his gaze back to the water bottle and towel.

He drinks the water and then uses the towel to wipe his sweat. At that moment, Max decides that he will never allow himself to be beaten by Daniel ever again.

Max remembers the anger he feels when he discovers the news of Daniel leaving Red Bull.

“Was this because of Baku?!”

Daniel tries to explain his situation as calmly as he can but Max is all fire and flames and fury. He is only hearing Daniel’s words, not listening to them because all that he registers are the words “leaving” and “Renault” and “goodbye” and the rest are all just a bunch of ringing noise. Max knows where Daniel is coming from because he isn't dumb nor naive and he is aware that he is quickly becoming the team favorite, but did Daniel really need to leave?

Daniel’s leaving, Daniel’s leaving, Daniel’s leaving. He’ll have no friends left on the team.

Max’s fear of being left behind is often masqueraded as anger. The thing about Max is that his pain always turns to anger and his anger turns into violence.

He barely registers what he has done to Daniel until he sees his teammate—former teammate—on the floor, eyes wide and clutching his cheek. Max’s fist trembles. They are both horrified at what Max has done.

“Daniel, I—”

“What the fuck is wrong with you, man?!” Daniel scrambles to a stand and lunges at Max. Max fears he’s going to get punched, too, and maybe he deserves it because he is the one who has thrown his fist first, but [Name] appears, quick as lightning, and rushes in between Daniel and Max.

“Daniel, calm down.”

Max is surprised you can hold Daniel down on your own. Daniel was a racer, had been since 2011, so he possessed the physical strength of a veteran racer and you, well, you're not. You’re shorter than them both, too.

Daniel is turning red in the face and fury paints his features. Max wants to fight, answer Daniel’s anger with his own. Fire to fire. Let them both burn until they achieve ruination.

“Nick!” you cry and at the call of his name, Nick appears quickly. “Hold Daniel!”

Your hands clutch Max’s nape and forearm and you quickly drag him away from the furious Daniel, leaving Nick to hold Daniel off and calm him down.

His ears are still ringing. Even after he's dragged away from the chaos. Even after he's brought into an empty room. Even after he sits down on a plush chair, face scarily blank while his mind runs for miles.

The ringing sound disappears when you tap his shoulder and asks, “You okay, big boy?”

His brain becomes a blank slate.

Max nods hesitantly, “Yeah.”

His knuckles are still tingling. He can still feel the remnants of the violence of his fist, can still feel the sting when his knuckles met Daniel’s cheek.

“Injuries?”

Why do you only speak words instead of full sentences?

You scan Max’s face for injuries and Max holds his breath when you lean your face closer to see clearly.

“No—No injuries.”

Your shoulders sag in relief, “Good. Thank fuck. Horner wouldn't be happy if golden boy got clocked.”

You pull yourself away and Max feels like he can breathe again. Then, you pivot on your heels.

“I’ll get you water.”

“No!”

You flinch and then turn to him slowly, your eyes growing wide and mouth falling slightly open. Max mirrors your surprise. You blink at him. Once. Twice. Thrice. Then, your forehead creases and you close your mouth.

“No need to yell at me,” you mumble but Max hears it loud and clear and now, his anger is spiking up again.

“Fine, go!”

You raise a brow at him, giving him a long look. A sigh escapes your lips. You leaned against the door, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Why aren't you leaving?”

“You don't want me to,” you say in a know-it-all tone.

“I told you to go!”

“What you want and what you say are two different things. Don't worry, I’ll stay for as long as you need.”

Max doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he sits there in the silence with his thoughts and he can already feel the tears welling up in his eyes. He’s sure you noticed that he’s trying not to cry, not with you standing in front of him. Max always makes weird faces when he forces himself not to cry.

But then you turn your back on him, not to leave, but to give him the privacy he needs.

His tears fall silently.

The 2018 WDC was Lewis Hamilton, who garnered 408 points by the end of the year. Max finishes in fourth, only after the Ferrari drivers, Sebastian Vettel and Kimi Raikkonen. The world thinks it is not a bad result. Max is still young and he’s battling three WDCs for points. But Max thinks otherwise. Winning is number one. The rest is just losing. The only thing he knows is he's not good enough. Jos is thinking of the same thing, too. He knows it.

Everytime someone congratulates him, Max has to bite his tongue and fake a smile. He can only feel anger, for finishing up fourth. It's like people are constantly reminding him of what he failed to become—a champion.

Red Bull throws an after party at the hotel bar, like they do at every Grand Prix, but Max chose not to go so he can drown in his own bitterness in the privacy of his hotel room.

A series of knocks on the door disturbs his ongoing rampage. He is sure it is his manager who’s behind the door. Archie possesses a horrible habit of appearing when he is not needed and not appearing when he is.

“What?!”

“Open the door, sour loser.”

That's not Archie.

Max’s jaw tenses. He marches towards the door and aggressively throws it open. It is you who stands behind it, an unimpressed expression printed on your face. Why is Daniel’s manager here?

“Who are you calling a loser?”

You sigh, peering your head in to look at his hotel room. You wince.

“Horner is not gonna be happy with how you trashed everything,” you begin. Max may or may not have thrown things across the room, punched a table and the wall, and accidentally broke a hotel-owned wall decoration. “Did you punch the wall?”

He did. But he’s not going to tell you that. Max hopes you don’t notice the peeling skin on his knuckles—red and angry and bloody.

“Can you leave?” he asks through gritted teeth. He hears you sigh. You do that a lot when you’re around him. Why?

You rummage through your tote bag—cream-colored with peach prints, the same one you wear all year round—and pull out a cold can of beer and a face towel.

“Lemme see.”

You reach for Max’s hand, which causes him to jerk back, his hand going behind him. You pause.

“I told you to leave.”

“Okay,” you shrug. You grab his wrist before he could dodge and you thrust the cold canned beer and face towel into his hand.

“Put this on your knuckles,” your tone leaves no room for further arguments. “Danny’s worried ‘bout you.”

“If he’s so worried about me, he shouldn't be leaving me,” Max snaps.

“Have you tried listening to his reasons?”

“Of course, I did!” Max is offended that you even feel the need to ask him that.

You purse your lips, “Maybe you did listen, just never tried to understand. I’d do the same thing, too, if I was Danny. No need to stay in a place where we’re no longer wanted.”

Max opens his mouth to bark back. How dare you utter such nonsense? You only stayed here for a year! ? You will never understand the relationship between Daniel and Max. You will never know Daniel the same way Max knows him.

“He isn't going to win anywhere else. We are going to get a new engine and the car will be better than this year. We’ll be better than Ferrari or Mercedes. We’ll be champions.”

I’ll be a champion, but Max leaves it unsaid.

“I know, heard it from the mechanics,” you shrug. “Maybe Danny won't win in another machinery. Maybe he will. Who knows? But if the team wanted Danny then that’s better. A team that wants and prioritizes Danny will treat him better than any team could. And right now, that's what he needs, a good team that supports him well.”

“Red Bull prioritizes him, too.”

“You're lyin’ to yourself, you know it. You of all people should know how shitty it feels to be number two and Danny is number two right now.”

Silence.

Number two. Cursed number two.

“Are you gonna follow Daniel, too?”

Max will not be surprised if you do.

You shrug.

“Let's wait and see.”

Then, you turn around and walk away, the soft click of your beige flats echoing in the hotel hallway until it fades into silence, while Max stands there at the open door, a cold canned beer and a face towel in his hand.

He uses the face towel to wipe the blood on his knuckle and uses the cold canned beer to help soothe the pain of forming bruises. Max wishes you brought something to ease the pain in his heart, too.

2019

The 2019 pre-season begins with Christian Horner saying that Archie, Max’s incompetent manager last year, has submitted a resignation letter. That makes Max Verstappen officially manager-less this year.

“For this season, since Daniel is no longer with us—” The corner of Max’s lips curve downwards. “[Name] does not have anyone to manage anymore. I was thinking of moving her to the engineering team but she was too efficient at managing Daniel last year. Would you mind if she becomes your manager? I assume you're both friends?”

Friends is not the appropriate term to describe what they are. Sure, they talked because Daniel talked with Max frequently and wherever Daniel was, [Name] is closely behind. Daniel also has this habit of dragging everyone into the conversation so no one will be left out. They also engaged in banter a few times, when Daniel’s not around and Max and her do not bother tolerating each other for the sake of the Australian racer.

For the most part, when Daniel is present, [Name] become the nicest person to ever grace the room, even Mother Teresa is put to shame, but when Daniel’s gone, [Name]’s saintess act disappears and enters an asshole who'll argue with Max and annoy him to oblivion. She absolutely vexes him.

Also, she's a terrible suck up. Max hates suck ups.

“She’ll be good for you,” Horner adds.

“Do you believe so?”

“I know she can handle you.”

Max raises a single questioning brow, “What is that supposed to mean?”

Nevertheless, Max has no choice. Horner believes she’ll be good for him and Max prefers having her as a manager than having none at all. God forbid he’ll be stuck manager-less. He can barely organize anything to save his life.

Even though they're not perfectly civil with each other, Max cannot deny the fact that [Name] is a good manager. It is like she possesses the uncanny ability of knowing everything Max needs without having him to voice it out and you do it without Max having to ask you. Which works greatly for Max. He really isn't the best at asking what he needs and people cannot mindread so he just sucks everything up until a simple thing gets blown out of proportion and he ends up blaming someone else for a problem that should have been solved had he voiced it out in the first place.

“PR sent me this,” you walk into the room early in the morning and Max groans because he’s still dealing with the hangover from last night so he cannot deal with your annoyingness right now. Despite hearing his dilemma, you put the iPad on the table and Max sees a picture of him drunk as fuck in a bar somewhere in Barcelona. He winces, looking away and not bothering to read the caption.

“They want you to clear shit up.”

“What's there to be cleared about?”

“People think we're datin’, darlin’. That's what you need to clear up.”

Max’s eyes go comically wide. Him and [Name]....dating? A blush graces Max’s cheeks.

You swipe down and show Max a video. The clip shows you walking out of the bar, warding off people with a passed out Max on your shoulder.

There are two things that immediately entered Max’s head at that moment:

Wow. You're really strong.

What the fuck? When did this happen?

“I’ll get you an Advil and soup. In the meantime,” you open a word document on your iPad. “You read this. Prepared a script ‘cuz you can’t improvise shit. We’ll film a press release vid when I come back, aight?”

You are gone before Max can even nod his head.

#max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #fanfic #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one #max verstappen #f1 imagines #mv33 x reader #mv1 x reader #mv1 #manager!reader

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starbluekindo · 1 month ago

Note

Vampire Vic x Werewolf reader

Fun plot point is that its like forbidden lovers (you know vampires and werewolves hate eachother bla bla bla) and so the reader and Vic try to keep that shit hidden from the public because they both have high standing within their supernatural community

so i was really excited writing this, but i was also a little unsure about what to do and how to do it since i've never written anything like this (and it wasn't as easy as i thought it would be), BUT if you - and the other readers- like this i can try to turn it into a small series.

warnings: au, a little angst i guess, mentions of blood, mentions of the boys (butcher more specifically), dead humans, a little homophobic and sexist if you squint, reader just wanting to love victoria in peace - i don't think i forgot anything.

the night was restless. the full moon shone high in the sky, its lights bathing the dense forest that separated the werewolf and vampire territories. you patrolled the borders with your pack, but a dark foreboding grew in your chest.

something wasn't right.

the silence was too dense, suffocating. the night seemed to announce that something bad was coming - and bloody hell, you always feared the worst. suddenly, the silence was broken by a high-pitched scream, unmistakably human.

and then, the smell of blood hit you like a punch.

“vampire” you heard one of your companions spit in disgust and then a large giant wolf ran past you quickly, not bothering to ask your permission or wait for the rest of the group.

“fuck! follow him!” that would be a bloodshed. you knew the temperament of your group, especially butcher's - he never respected your authority.

when you came to clarity, the scenario unfolding before your eyes was a nightmare. one of the vampires, practically a child, had crossed the border to hunt, something unthinkable. three human bodies lay on the ground, brutally torn apart, blood still running through the dry leaves. butcher had his claws stuck in the vampire's neck, trying to rip his head off.

“release him, butcher” you ordered when you saw what he was trying to do, that would only make the situation even worse and put your pack in a war with the vampires. "now".

"he crossed the damn border and killed under our noses!" he roared, his eyes blazing with anger. “this is an insult, a declaration of war!”

“war will start if you don't release this vampire now” your voice was firm, the situation wasn't the best but you knew that acting on impulse would only make everything worse.

your hands shook. this couldn't be happening. you knew that if this was exposed, the fragile peace between vampires and werewolves would shatter. and worse, it would put victoria—and the relationship you shared—at risk. your eyes fixed on the vampire, the invader, as the chaos in your mind screamed for control. how did this happen?

“summon the council and don’t let this get out of here, that’s an order.”

the pack meeting was called hastily, with only the closest and most trusted members — the upper echelon, the wolves with experience and power to influence the direction of leadership. the small group was gathered in a circle, under the shelter of tall trees that blocked the light of the full moon, with the smell of damp earth in the air. the atmosphere was tense, heavy with the expectation of action.

you were in the center of the circle, feeling the heavy gazes on you. everyone was waiting for a decision. the massacre on the border had deeply shaken the trust among the wolves, and now, everyone wanted justice.

butcher, as always, was the first to break the silence.

"there's nothing to discuss here," he began, his voice firm and full of hate. "that bastard crossed the border and killed humans. we already know what has to be done." he crossed his arms, his muscles bulging with pent-up fury, and his eyes glittered with mischief. "we want his head."

a murmur of agreement passed through the others present. one of the older wolves, known for his coldness and prudence, took the floor soon after.

"butcher is right. we can't ignore this. if we don't take action now, we will look weak. this isn't just an offense — it's a breach of the treaty. it's a direct affront."

you felt the weight of those words. i knew the situation was delicate, that tensions between vampires and werewolves were always a powder keg ready to explode. but at the same time, you knew that giving in to demands for revenge would only bring more blood and a conflict that could be devastating for both sides.

“i understand what you’re saying,” you began, keeping your voice controlled even as the pressure grew by the second. "but taking his head won't solve the problem. it'll just burn everything down."

butcher took a step forward, his eyes fixed on yours, as if he was waiting for that answer. "burn everything down?" he growled. "do you think this place isn't already on fire? they've already crossed the line. they've already killed innocent people. and you want to let it go? we need to act with strength, show that we are not weak!”

you took a deep breath, feeling the heat of butcher's fury radiate. "i know you're angry. i am too. but we need to be strategic. if we kill this vampire now, we will be declaring war. are you prepared for that? a war that could end us all?"

butcher laughed, a short, bitter sound. "and since when have we been afraid of a good war? let them come. let's cut each of them down and see if they're still as brave without their fucking fangs." his eyes glittered with the desire for violence, and you knew he was ready to dive head first into any conflict that came his way. “or are you afraid of hurting someone in particular?”

butcher's insinuations did not go unnoticed. some of those present exchanged quick glances with each other, and you felt your stomach sink. he was playing dirty, planting seeds of doubt about your loyalty.

“this has nothing to do with fear,” you snapped, voice firmer. “this is about survival. if we act without thinking, we will all pay the bill.”

another member, a woman with sharp eyes and known for her wit, intervened. "so what's the plan? are we just going to let this go? how are we going to explain to the humans what happened? and more importantly, how are we going to keep the pack under control? they're demanding an answer. if you don't do anything, you're going to lose the support from many.”

she was right, and you knew it. the pack was restless, on the verge of revolt. they needed action, justice. but the justice they sought was immediate and brutal, something that would only worsen the situation. you needed a solution, and fast.

“i’m not saying there won’t be consequences,” you replied, aware of the eyes fixed on you. "but let's do this the right way. i'll talk to victoria. she has control over her territory, and we'll make sure this vampire is punished — their way. if he crossed the line, they'll take care of it. but let's not we will be the ones to ignite this war."

butcher let out a short, sarcastic laugh. "do you really think you can trust them? that they'll take care of this? don't fool yourself. she'll protect him. this vampire will come out unscathed, and we'll look foolish— weak."

“that’s not going to happen,” you said, more to yourself than him. “if there is no justice, then we will reconsider. but until then, we need to remain calm.”

you needed to see her

hours later, you met victoria in the secret hideaway where you always meet, away from any prying eyes. but today, the environment carried a suffocating weight. victoria was already waiting, dressed in her usual elegant attire, the usual coldness in her eyes. but you knew something was out of place. she looked paler than usual, her lips tight.

“this is going to spread, and fast,” you begin, voice hard and controlled, but anger bubbling beneath the surface. "one of yours invaded our territory, victoria. he broke the treaty and killed humans. if this isn't resolved immediately, there will be no going back."

victoria stares at you, but doesn't back down. she crosses her arms, maintaining a rigid posture, while her mind works overtime. “i did not authorize this attack.” she said calmly, so calmly that it bothered you.

“but it happened” you replied through gritted teeth, taking a step closer to the brunette “and innocent people were hurt… do you realize the seriousness of the situation?”

“no one needs to know what really happened”

"this isn't simple, vicky!" the anger finally escapes your voice, the words sharp as knives. "you think you can just hide the shit that happens in your territory and everything will work itself out? if my pack finds out that i let this go without fighting back… it will be the end of me. the end of us.”

you see the pain flash in her eyes, but only for an instant. victoria approaches you, her cold fingers gently touching your hand in an attempt to calm the growing storm inside you. "i promise you," she says, her voice softer, almost pleading. "i'll make sure this never happens again. but you need to trust me, like you always have."

your hands shake, not just from anger, but from a deep sadness that nestled in his chest. the weight of what you are — vampire and werewolf, enemy races — felt unbearable now. the fear of losing victoria, the only person who truly understood you, was suffocating.

"if this goes wrong..." you whisper, voice almost breaking, "there are no more secrets. everyone will know what we are. who we are."

victoria stops, her eyes fixed on yours. “then i’ll make it work. i won’t lose you.”

the tension between you remained, an invisible wall, built by years of hatred between your races, but now reinforced by the fear of losing each other. silence hovered, thick as the dark clouds that gathered in the sky. the weight of victoria's words echoed in your mind, but you couldn't shake the feeling that something bigger was lurking, something that even she couldn't control.

“it’s not just my pack we have to worry about,” you said, turning your face to the sky, smelling the approaching rain. "other packs are already watching. if they see the slightest sign of weakness, they will attack. and if that happens..." you hesitated, swallowing the lump in your throat. "i'll have to choose."

victoria remained silent, her face impassive, but you knew she understood the gravity of what was being said. the choice between her and your family, between love and duty to your people, was a decision victoria never wanted you to face. but now, it seemed inevitable.

“hey, look at me” her hands cupped your face, making you look at her again “i’ll fix the situation… just trust me, please darling”

you wanted, you really wanted to believe that it would be resolved, but even if your promise was kept, you knew that the trust between the races would be broken. however, you didn't say anything, just tilted your head and let the brunette's lips meet yours in a passionate kiss full of care and longing.

back on their home turf, things are also tense. the pack leaders questioned your decision not to retaliate immediately. suspicious gazes follow you every step. you feel the weight of the silent betrayal, the secret you carry in your heart.

that night, alone under the starry sky, you look at the full moon. the silver glow brings comfort, but today, it seemed like just another reminder of the gulf that separated you and victoria.

the feeling that your relationship was hanging by a thread is almost suffocating. how long until someone finds out? how long until this falls apart?

you were a good leader, at least you considered yourself one, but at that moment you didn't want to have that weight on your shoulders. you wanted to have victoria, you wanted to love her and be loved in return.

honestly, your desires seemed more distant and impossible every day.

#victoria neuman #victoria neuman x reader #answered asks #supernatural au #the boys #yeah i was a little inspired by twilight

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