#now we’re the Vee’s

[that-one-enby-possum]

Small emoji meme with the sona redesigns of the Vee’s with my friends, no irl names will be used

Mine:

My Husband’s:

My Son’s:

I didn’t do hands because this was for fun and drawing hands is not fun for me

[akkivee]

i’m not posting this for any other reason than to cry over ichiro’s voice as he teases kuukou lmao 😭😭😭

[cutebisexualmess]

yeah i’m going to go die now i can’t handle this fucking crush any more ansjksdhdhsk

[theolddivorcedzukka]

it’s so insane how ariel saved eric’s life while also bringing life back to him. she saved eric from the shipwreck that night but when she came back in human form and started to get closer to eric, she got him out of that castle and gave him someone to share his dreams about exploring the world with and THAT is why eric is so quick to forget that mystery girl after spending just a day with ariel. because that mystery girl may have saved his life but ariel is the one to bring life back to his world. do you guys still like me or nah

[vettelsvee]

SÍ... ESTAMOS SALIENDO | Oscar Piastri

Oscar Piastri x Pérez!Reader

SUMMARY: Scared of everyone to find out, Y/N Pérez and Oscar Piastri decide to hide their relationship from everyone until Checo starts wondering how Piastri learnt to speak Spanish so good... and specially why he has a Mexican accent ↳ REQUESTED BY ANON: Maybe one were she is checos daughter and they hide their relationship from him. And also maybe she teaches oscar some Spanish. At the end they end up telling checo about their relationship

WORD COUNT: 2399

WARNINGS: Use of Spanish. Important to say that even Spanish is my mother tongue, I may have some mistakes because it is Mexican Spanish and I don't know much about it, so I had to do some research. Otherwise, mentions of unwanted pregnancy, unprotected sex, drugs and alcohol

TAGLIST: @hc-dutch @raavadakedavra @coffeedestroyingperson @evey-kuznetskova @bowielovesyou @chaoswithus @isotopemylove @iceman-kazansky @gwginnyweasley @formula1-motogpfan @myescapefromthislife @regalbanshee [in case you wanna be tagged just tell me so i can add you!]

VEE'S NOTES: Not writing related but I’m obsessed with a K-Drama I started watching yesterday and I just wanna write Come What May series since the main characters’ personalities are the same as Seb and Y/N (Di in case you read the OC Version) there lmao. Anyways, missed a lot writing about Oscar (I definitely will be writing about him more as he's my second fave on the current grid) and this one got me so happy with how it turned out! Hope you like it as well, and remember that I'd love to see your comments <3 ↳ MAKE YOUR REQUESTS | LET'S TALK! | JANUARY UPDATE CALENDAR

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

“What if you taught me some Spanish?”

“Sorry, what did you just say?”

“That's it, Y/N. Teach me some Spanish.”

You, completely absorbed in looking at the pictures you had taken during the date you had with your boyfriend that same day, lifted your gaze from your phone and raised an eyebrow, fully taken aback by Oscar's proposal.

“Spanish? You? You already speak English! English is the only language that matters to you all…”

Oscar shrugged, nervously playing with the steering wheel. At that moment, he reconsidered what he had said, unsure now, and realized that maybe it had been a somewhat strange proposal on his part.

“I just want to understand you when you talk to your dad or your family. I know no one knows we’re together yet, but sometimes when you do video calls with them, I feel a bit lost. I also feel like sometimes you talk about me, and I’d like to know if I should worry,” he confessed, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“And why do you assume we talk about you, huh?”

“Well, because you always look at me out of the corner of your eye when you do.”

You couldn’t help but smile at how cute he looked with that unnecessary concern.

“Why do you have to be so chismoso?” You said, making Oscar give you a little tap on the shoulder. That just made you laugh more. “Alright, alright, fine! But I warn you in advance: if you laugh at me speaking Spanish or don’t take me seriously, I’ll break up with you.”

What started as a completely random proposal, with little prospect of a future or sense at first, eventually became one of your favorite routines. You took advantage of every moment together to practice, always hiding it from Checo or any member of the Pérez family when you were in the paddock. Moreover, whenever you were in your respective countries, you would watch Mexican movies and TV shows, and also some in their original version with English subtitles. You even started sending each other the occasional message in Spanish, thanks to the Australian’s initiative.

Oscar seemed to have, in your eyes, a natural talent for languages. Not only did he manage to learn greetings and basic words in less than a week, but after a month, he was already making the effort to use your Mexican accent and even incorporating words that seemed exclusive to your family’s vocabulary.

And that was exactly what, a few months later, turned into a real nightmare for the secrecy with which you kept your relationship.

While no one knew you were together as a couple, Oscar and you pretended to be just friends when you were in public. That’s why it was completely normal for Checo Pérez to see his daughter with the Australian, having coffee and chatting animatedly after a press conference.

“¡Buenos días, Checo!” Oscar said in almost perfect Spanish. “¿Cómo va, papá?”

You, hearing that last word, spat out the little coffee you had left in your mouth and opened your eyes, completely surprised. Checo, however, made a face and a frown, questioning his daughter’s friend.

“What did you say?” You asked, though you knew perfectly well that what your boyfriend had just said was something you hadn’t taught him, and he’d probably heard it from you.

“Well… ¿Cómo va, papá?” the guy repeated innocently. “Did I say it right?”

“Papá?” repeated the Red Bull driver, even more shocked. “Do you even know what that means, kid?”

“It’s an expression, right? Isn’t it like saying buddy?”

Checo stared at him for a few seconds that felt like an eternity to Oscar. Then, he turned his gaze to you, who was pretending to fiddle with your phone to avoid having to face an awkward conversation about why your secret boyfriend had just said that.

“¿Te importaría decirme por qué Oscar habla como tú?” Pérez asked quickly in Spanish, clearly aiming for Oscar not to understand.

“He doesn’t talk like me!” You quickly replied in English. “Oscar has been practicing Spanish, and well… he wants to fit in better so he’s trying. Duolingo isn’t the best app for learning, so he’s been watching YouTube videos... Right, Osc?”

The guy nodded, but that didn’t convince Checo. Still, he didn’t say anything else and, instead, coldly said goodbye to you both.

As soon as he was far enough away not to hear you, you turned to Oscar and started shaking him:

“Of all the things you could say, you call him papá?!”

“I didn’t do it on purpose, babe!” He rushed to reply, feeling bad for you. “I’ve heard it so many times that, well… I just said it without thinking. I honestly didn’t think it was anything bad.”

You huffed, knowing that it wasn’t Oscar’s fault or his curiosity and interest in learning your mother tongue, but yours for not setting boundaries or explaining the meaning of each word, as well as the context in which it should be used or who it was addressed to.

From that moment on, your father started paying more attention. He was an expert in discretion, but you knew him well enough to realize that, since the incident with Oscar, he had become much more alert and interested in you both, especially looking for clear signs that would confirm his suspicions that his daughter was dating one of the newest additions to the grid.

Unfortunately for you and Oscar, the Mexican didn’t need to investigate much, and he only did so for a month to confirm his theories.

During one of the briefings with all the drivers, Checo heard Oscar mumbling an “Órale, wey” followed by some insults in Spanish that you had made up when it had gotten pretty late and everyone was eager to return to their hotel. Also, instead of saying “sorry,” he let out a “¿mande?” which wouldn’t have been strange if he hadn’t continued speaking in English, as if nothing had happened.

You and Oscar seemed unaware of all your slip-ups; on the contrary, feeling like you weren’t arousing anyone’s suspicion, you lowered your guard. Displays of affection in public, though still cautious, became more frequent, especially when Checo wasn’t near you. Or at least, that’s what you thought.

The back of the McLaren garage, just a few meters away from Red Bull’s, as expected, wasn’t the most suitable place.

“We should go somewhere else,” you said softly while nervously fiddling with the collar of your boyfriend's shirt, who had his arm around your waist.

“Why? This place is perfect,” Oscar replied, unconcerned.

“Yeah, sure, perfect for my dad to catch us,” you muttered. “If he already suspects and looks like that doll from the red light, green light game on Squid Game, analyzing us so much to jump on us as soon as he catches us… imagine if he finds us. He’ll kill us, I swear.”

“Come on, Y/N, just try to relax. We’ve got it all under control. Seriously, there’s nothing to worry about, mi amor.”

You blushed at the compliment he had given you in Spanish, and couldn’t help but plant a chaste kiss on his lips, even though everything inside you felt chaotic.

“If you’re trying to convince me that everything’s fine by speaking to me in Spanish, just know that you’re doing it perfectly,” you declared. “But don’t forget, that doesn’t mean I don’t feel a tremendous anxiety and keep thinking that we’re literally one step away from getting caught. Do you know what he could do if he finds out that you and I… that?” You asked hesitantly.

“Is he going to give us a lecture on how we have to stay professional whenever we’re in public? Or is he going to tell me he’ll kill me if I even think about getting you pregnant?”

“He’ll probably make you come home to have lunch with my family and only speak Spanish,” you tried not to laugh but couldn’t help yourself. “And trust me, you don’t want to be in that position because you’ll have all my aunts, and there are quite a few of them, right next to you, asking you some very uncomfortable questions.”

“Then we’ll have to tell him as soon as possible so he can prepare. How about I tell him that I’m absolutely and completely in love with his daughter?”

You shot him a glare, panic flooding your insides at the thought of that happening.

“No, don’t you dare do that, Osc, and especially not here. You have no idea how my dad would react if…”

“Why not?” He interrupted. Then, he stopped, and after a few seconds that felt like an eternity to you, he seemed to finally find the courage to speak: “I could tell him something like… ¡Señor Pérez, estoy saliendo con su hija porque además de ser la mejor mujer de este mundo, me hace la persona más feliz del mundo!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, filled with emotion inside at Oscar’s sweet yet innocent declaration of love aloud.

However, a cough behind you made you snap back to reality.

“Can I know what you’re doing with my daughter, Piastri?”

You both slowly turned around. There, standing before you, was Checo, arms crossed, with a very unfriendly look on his face. You swore that if Oscar walked out of there alive and without a reprimand from your overprotective father, he could do whatever he wanted for the rest of the year.

“Well…” Oscar began, his confidence suddenly disappearing.

“Esto no es lo que parece, te lo juro,” you said in Spanish, trying to calm your father, even though you knew your attempts would be in vain.

“Oh, really?” Checo asked, raising an eyebrow, knowing you were both lying. “Then, what explanation do you have for this kid shouting to the four winds in almost perfect Spanish that he’s in love with you? At least that’s what I understood, if my Spanish doesn’t fail me.”

You were about to reply, but instead, Oscar gently took you by the wrist and stepped forward, surprisingly confident.

“Checo, I’m not playing around. Okay, I was joking about that, but not about what it means… like…” Piastri explained slowly, nerves eating at him as he couldn’t bring himself to look Checo in the face. “Your daughter matters to me, well, like… you know, like a boyfriend cares for his girlfriend.”

Checo tried not to laugh at the declaration of love from the man who had just confirmed he was his son-in-law and did his best to maintain the protective fatherly composure, thinking no guy would ever be good enough for his daughter.

“So you care about my daughter… You, one of my coworkers, a twenty-three-year-old kid, care about my eldest daughter enough to believe you can have a relationship with her…”

“It’s not that I believe it, it’s that I know I do.”

Not only you and Checo were surprised by the boy’s words, but Oscar himself too. He regretted it immediately, but before he could apologize to Checo, the man stepped forward, raising a hand and staring at him:

“So… are you two dating or not?”

“Yes, for almost six months now,” you answered, feeling a knot in your stomach, but much less pressure now that your father knew the truth.

Checo sighed, running a hand over his face as he tried to process the news his daughter, his little girl, had just told him. The girl he knew ever since she was born and now he had to imagine her spending, if not the rest of her life, at least part of it, with another man.

“And why didn’t you tell me before?” Checo asked, his voice tinged with disappointment but also some understanding. “Don’t you trust me?”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s that I knew you would react badly,” you answered, frustrated. “I trust you, and I know you want to protect me from any guy who could make me feel bad, but you have to understand that I’m twenty years old, and whether you like it or not, I’m not a little girl anymore.”

Checo looked at you and then turned his gaze to Oscar, who had his head down. Besides his nerves being pretty evident, so was his willingness to face any kind of dispute or reprimand from him just to stay with you.

That made Checo feel a bit bad, though it also gave him some relief seeing that the Australian was truly concerned and, why not say it, in love, willing to do anything for his little Y/N.

Finally, he let out a small sigh, trying to calm himself. He repeated your words over and over in his mind before saying anything else because if you had never disappointed him in your life, then he didn’t want to disappoint you just because you were in love.

I’m not a little girl anymore.

“Checo…” Piastri spoke, but Checo raised a finger, silencing him instantly.

“I’m only going to say this once: you better not hurt my daughter, or I’ll hurt you when I kick you off the track or crash into you accidentally. Is that clear?”

Oscar swallowed hard, feeling that Checo wasn’t joking.

“Understood…”

“And as for you,” Checo now spoke to you, completely stunned, “don’t think this is over. Your mother, you, and I will have a conversation about this and several other topics when we get home.”

Unprotected wild sex, alcohol, and drugs, for sure, you thought, forcing a smile to try to hide your worry.

“Now go on and keep loving each other, but be careful where and how you do it. I don’t want to be a grandfather just yet.”

With those words, Checo left, leaving you both.

“Well… now he knows. Finally,” Oscar said, letting out a sigh of relief.

“I told you he was intense. Do you believe me now?”

“Of course, mi amor,” the Australian replied, taking your hand and heading to your room in the McLaren motorhome, so, as Checo had said, you wouldn’t become grandparents just yet. “Your dad scared me, but I’m not going to lie to you, he gave me enough motivation to beat him in every race from now on.”

[maxiemumdamage]

I realize we’re probably supposed to feel threatened, or at least worried, that the Vees are all ready for a power grab, but I’m…not.

Like, we just watched Carmilla and Rosie — aka the supplier of Angelic weapons and the apparent best information broker in Hell — clearly cement themselves as being on Charlie’s side. Alastor might have gotten his ass kicked by Adam, but he still held his own for a good while. Besides, Adam was clearly the strongest person in Hell at that point except for Lucifer, so it’s hardly a humiliating defeat. And considering the other Overlords already there are his friends, we can expect Zestial would probably jump in on the project just for kicks.

Compared to all them, the Vees…aren’t exactly a threat. They can’t do shit if Carmilla refuses to sell to them, and while she’s the least invested in the Hotel of all the Overlords involved, I do think she’d draw that line if she thought it necessary. Business is clearly a secondary priority compared to family for her, and I’m suspecting her daughters might end up being some of the Hotel residents since it’s a good place to stay safe.

And even without that, uh. Lucifer. Lucifer who just kicked Exterminator ass for all of Hell to watch, Lucifer who just demonstrated to the public how much he cares for his daughter and how brutal he would be to anyone that threatened her, Lucifer who is the literal king of Hell and will now be staying at the Hotel.

To throw Vox’s words back in his face: they’re gonna die. They’re gonna fucking die.

[chaoticace2005]

Why Vox needs to GET THE FUCK OVER THE RADIO DEMON:

(By Velvette, the only competent of the Vees)

(Her list for Valentino here)

1. He’s just not into you

2. We have better things to do than allocate company time to this.

3. He makes you look stupid

4a. He makes US look stupid (and Valentino already does that enough)

4b. Seriously how are we supposed to stop your boy toy from chasing whore around town when you can’t do the same with your ex? We need to set a (gag) good example for him.

5. What do you even see in him? Tacky coat. And that voice is so old-school.

6. You have two people who (reluctantly) want to work with you. Why spend energy on a guy who doesn’t?

7. This was seven years ago babe. Give it up.

8. I’m tired of finding your Alastor Body Pillow around the penthouse

9. Speaking of the body pillow, did you really have to spend 5k on it?

10. Company money should be used for COMPANY things. The fact we even have an “Alastor” budget is stupid. HE DOESNT EVEN GO HERE. ( @onesidedradiostatic )

11. He fucked off once, he probably will again.

12. Do you really want to fuck with someone who has the princess and king of Hell on his side?

13. It makes Valentino insecure about his sexual prowess, which is not good for anyone.

14. I have to LISTEN to him complain about it.

15. No matter how hard you try, nobody will ever beat “Susan” for #1 rival in that man’s heart. (Which is valid cause Susan SUCKS.)

16. Also you’re wasting company time by having Val put together shitty-Alastor look alike porns? Angel Dust does NOT look like Radio Demon ffs, I though Val was the blind one not you.

17. Your screens keep crapping out whenever you think about him, and we’re running out of ones in storage.

18a. I don’t want to keep having to go to overlord meetings for you because you’re having a breakdown over of he’ll be there or not.

18b. Speaking of breakdowns, STOP MAKING THE WHOLE CITY LOSE POWER.

19. You’ve taken over the entire office space with your Alastor-shrine. It’s not really an inconvenience, just creepy.

20a. Not to kinkshame but I walked in on you and Val fucking with Alastor-wigs on, REALLY?!

20b. Also I think you’re making Val insecure about his lack of hair.

21. STOP asking me to design Alastor-cosplay clothes for you. I don’t want anything to do with this.

22. I already have to deal with one pissbaby

23. Seriously, he isn’t into you. Maybe it’s cause you’re a mess. Maybe it’s cause he’s AROACE. Who knows.

24. You keep interrupting channels to brainwash people into hating the Radio Demon, when we should be brainwashing them into other things.

25. We can all hear you talking to yourself in the shower when trying to come up with shitty comebacks.

26. You display your dreams when you sleep, and while it was funny at first at this point it’s so boring. Val and I want to watch something actually interesting for once rather than the same shit.

27. You keep glitching out in bisexual whenever he comes up and it’s annoying waiting for you to put your shit back together again.

28. I’m sick of movie nights where we just watch your self-made compilations of “Alastor’s Epic Fails” or just watch security footage of him at the hotel.

29. Why do you even try and film him? Your shitty cameras can pick hardly anything up.

30. Honestly this whole thing is just pathetic.

31. Like it used to be cute but now?

[some-bunniii]

My Charming Red Savior [1]

・❥ You’re harassed by a man following you down the street. Luckily, a rather smiley demon swoops in and claims to be your husband.

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

x: no use of y/n. i said this was going to be short and I lied, it’s about 6k words.

warnings: mild swearing

Warning! Battery at 1%! Device will power down in 3..

You stared down at the phone in your hands as the message lit up on the screen. Eyes widening, you quickly tapped the screen, trying to bypass the pop-up and get another glimpse at the digital map you were using. 

2…

“Hold on now! Just let me see where I'm going, please!” You begged the small device, your grip tightening around it as you tried to figure out what direction you needed to go. 

1..

You peered around the small pop-up. Okay.. Pete Ave was that way, which meant you needed to take a right after the stoplight and go-

Device powering down! Have a nice day :) 

“Damnit!” You growled as the screen flashed once, and then faded to black. You squeezed your eyes shut, face lifted to the sky as you took a deep breath to center yourself.

“Move it, won’t ya?” A demon woman chastised as she hurried around you. Lowering your head, you realized you were standing in the middle of the sidewalk, your spot interrupting the flow of pedestrian traffic. Quickly, you backpedaled until your back hit a brick wall of a building. 

It was getting late in Pentagram City, and that meant you needed to hurry to get to your friend's place before the worst inhabitants of Hell came crawling out. 

She had just gotten married and moved into a rather quaint little home, and you were very happy for her. You had not seen it yet, just in pictures she had shown you on her phone and the one time you drove past it.

“Oh, pleaseeee won’t you come over tonight? I can’t wait to show you all the renovations we’ve done! It looks so much better since we bought it.” She had begged over the phone that afternoon. 

You had stood there, your nails clicking against the countertop in your kitchen as you thought. You had nothing important going on, just some light cleaning and shopping. What was the harm in going over there and visiting? 

“Okay, sure. Yeah, I can come over.” You finally spoke.

“Ahh! I’m so excited, we’ll have a big dinner and everything. I can even rent a movie for us to watch, what are you into again? Those sappy romance flicks?”

“Whatever you want to watch, it’s your milestone we’re celebrating. I’m not the one picking.” 

“Geez, you know how hard it is for me to decide things like that! But, i’ll do it. Oh! Before I forget, could you stop by the store on your way and get some Cajun seasoning? It’s for the meal!” 

“Of course. I’ll see you soon.” You had told her, before hanging up. Eyes moving to the clock, you realized you two hours before needing to arrive. Which meant you had to get moving on those dishes and errands. 

It didn’t take long before you were out the door. Wearing a nice outfit and new shoes, you strolled down the street. The digital map on your phone guiding you across the city as you moved.

Being so close to the city center, you didn’t have a personal vehicle. Instead, you took public transport all the way past the Entertainment District, your eyes gazing up at the rather tall VoxTek building as the bus sped by. 

You didn’t know much about the Vees, other than they were very powerful Overlords with a lot of influence in the media industry. In fact, you didn’t know much about Overlords at all. Were they nasty demons? They must be, if they bartered in souls.

But there had to be better ones, right? You knew of the cannibal, Rosie, and despite her, well.. dietary choices, she seemed to be a rather motherly and courteous demon. In such a way that the residents of Cannibal Town held very high regards for her, which proved her ability to lead in a just manner. She couldn’t be the only one with a more ethical moral code.

Your mind lingered on that train of thought, before you were pulled back into reality by the bus driver’s call for your stop. Quickly, you had hurried out of the vehicle, before continuing your directed path forward.

You arrived at the large storefront, a cozy cottage-like building that whispered of deliciousness as the scents of spices and other meal-making goods wafted through the open door. 

Taking a step inside, you quickly darted through the aisles, searching for the Cajun seasoning. What was your friend making tonight? You weren’t too familiar with these kinds of ingredients. Hopefully, it was going to be tasty.

When you found it, you turned it in your hands, inspecting the product. Yep, you’ve never seen this before in your life. 

After paying for the item, you quickly departed. Your next destination set on your phone.. but not for long.

Just a few more blocks, and you’d have been welcomed by the two love-birds with open arms. A nice, hot meal and a good movie to finish the night. 

Except, how were you supposed to get there now?!

Your phone was useless, and the digital displays around you showed nothing but advertisements and the latest news. 

Frantically, you looked around for any familiar landmarks, hoping to rely on your memory to guide you. But the streets of Pentagram City, with their twisting alleys and repetitive buildings, all looked eerily similar in the dimming red light of dusk.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you tried to recall the route from memory. Pete Avenue, right after the stoplight, then… was it a left or a right at the next intersection? You berated yourself for not doing a better job at memorizing the way before you left.

Turning, you raised a fist at the VoxTek HQ building, cursing them for your suffering. Stupid technology and their shitty battery life.

Slowly, you started walking again. Past the neon signs beckoning you to take a glance at what they had to offer, past the girls on the corner who were calling out to you to come have a ‘good time’.

Sometimes, you wished you had someone else to lend a hand at times like these. But, your heart and your home were unimaginably lonely when it came to a romantic partner. It was something that others around you couldn’t stop pestering you about.

“You really need to get out more,” another friend of yours had said one day, while you two dined at a cafe, “there’s this new dating app, called ‘Ozzie’s Love Link’. Everybody is buzzing about it. You should totally give it a whirl!” 

You had rolled your eyes at her suggestion, a dating app? Those things were practically a fraud. The demons on there either wanted sex, or their idea of a relationship was twisted and foul. You even had heard stories of people playing into sick traps of the perfect first meet, only to be murdered and left in an alley to rot.

“I want something real, not some.. temporary escape. Have you ever met anyone that’s actually found ‘The One’ through one of those things? And, who knows, maybe the demon of my dreams will just walk right into me one day.” 

She had laughed at your words, holding a hand to her mouth to contain her giggles.

“Oh, you. You’re still hanging on to those silly stories of a Prince Charming, hm? C’mon now, this is the real world. Nobody is going to swoop in and save you, and then fall hopelessly in love with you. That's a fairy tale. You need to put in the effort.”

You shrugged. Maybe, she was right. Maybe, those stories you had digested were just fairy tales, meant to enrapture you with promises of the perfect life. You were in Hell, after all.

‘She just doesn’t understand,’ you reminded yourself, ‘all her relationships have been toxic. She doesn’t know any better.’

You weren’t going to let her judgments get to you, you could live your life however you wanted, with whatever dreams you chose.

As you walked down the bustling streets, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. It was as if unseen eyes followed your every move, sending shivers down your spine. 

‘Stop freaking out,’ you told yourself, ‘it’s just your imagination, there’s people all around you. They have their own lives, they’re not watching you.’

Nearing the curb to an intersection, you glanced up at the street sign. Pete Avenue, finally. Now, think. Left? 

Looking left, you peer down the rows of strip clubs and bars. The crowds only got bigger from there, and there seemed to be no residential streets. You turned your head to the right, and it began to branch out into more domesticated buildings and neighborhoods. The farther your gaze traveled, the quieter the sidewalks became.

So, right it is. 

You turned the corner of the block and kept moving, your pace quickening as you checked a large digital clock on the side of a building. It was getting closer to the time you had promised to be there.

But, now where were you supposed to go? You turned your head, until your gaze landed on a small imp standing near an alley, a cigarette between his lips. 

Walking forward, you raised your hand up in greeting. “Excuse me, do you know where Magdalene Drive is, by any chance? I’ve just gotten a little turned around and would greatly appreciate some guidance.” 

The imp regarded you for a moment, his eyes squinted in thought. He pulled the cigarette from his lips, and exhaled a large breath. A plume of gray smoke vented from his lips, and he coughed harshly.

“Yeah, I do. You see that big statue over there?” He pointed to your left, the cigarette hanging between his fingers.

Turning your head, you leaned slightly backwards. Off in the distance, a large marble statue depicting an unknown owl demon practically glowed against the darker backdrop. It seemed to hold resemblance to an Ars Goetia family member, but you couldn’t put a finger on who. 

“Right when you pass it, take a left. Go two blocks straight, then take another left. One more block, and another right, and you’re on Magdalene Drive.” 

Jeez, that was a lot of directions thrown at you in one sitting. Not wanting to pester the man any further, you waved a thanks and walked away.

How far have you come, exactly? You turned your head behind you, looking down the sidewalk of where you had just come from. Something flickered in your peripheral vision, a dark figure skirting from your gaze. Was someone watching you? 

You shook your head. No, it’s just your imagination. Keep moving.

Slowly, you turned back and started walking. The sidewalks were practically empty now, the glow from the street lamps above you illuminating your path as you strolled up the large statue. 

Twisting your head to get a better look at it, your gaze skimmed across the royal figure. The owl-demon was staring up at the sky, one arm raised with what seemed to be a ball of energy in his grasp. Swirls of gold marble laced the pearly white sphere. He was holding up, like it was an offering to Heaven. 

Maybe, you’d come back later and take a look at the plaque below the statue. There had to be some significance, although you didn’t see yourself as a master of the fine-arts to te-

Crunch

What was that? That sounded like someone crushing a twig beneath their feet. You twisted to face behind you, and saw nothing once more. 

‘Alright, this is getting a little freaky.’

You weren’t going to stop now though, you didn’t want any potential onlookers seeing you stalking the perimeter like a weirdo simply because your paranoia was having you hallucinate things.

Keeping your pace, you took a sharp left on the corner and continued down. How many blocks did that guy say? Two, if you could recall correctly.

That’s how many blocks you traveled, before stopping in your tracks. Which way did he say to go? Right? Left? 

You rubbed your face with a hand, why did you suck so badly with directions?! If only you had charged your phone before you left, you wouldn’t be in this predicament. 

Turning your head, you tried to figure out which way could be the correct one. There was nothing, though. It didn’t remind you of anything you’d seen when you had driven past her house. 

“Hey, you lost?” A gravelly voice came from behind you. Eyes widened, you spun on your heel to face the stranger. He was tall, much taller than you. He sported scars running across his face, one eye half-lidded permanently from some kind of nasty wound. 

He sported a dark leather jacket, with a thin sweater underneath. His hoodie was up, masking most of his features like a shadow. His skin was a dark red, and his eyes were a pale yellow. He seemed to be a Succubus demon, being too large for an imp.

There was no kindness in his tone or in his smile. Your brain screamed danger, you needed to get away from him. Quickly, you shook your head, trying to give him a well-meaning smile. 

“No, i’m not! I’m just uhh- waiting for someone, they’ll be here soon anyway.” 

“People that aren’t lost usually don’t ask strangers on the street for directions,” he chuckled darkly, “why don’t you tell me where you’re trying to go? I can give you a lift.” 

As he closed in, you could smell the bitter taste of alcohol on his breath. You had to steel yourself not to recoil at his looming figure. Widening your smile, you attempted to not display any fear as he got closer.

“No, thank you. I would hate to bother you, my.. partner should be here soon, so you can continue on with your day!” 

“Don’t you know this place ain’t safe for sweet dolls like you to be roaming alone? C’mon, let me take you to where i’m parked, i’m sure you’ll enjoy my company.”

You quickly stepped backwards, trying to widen the distance from this creep. It wasn’t until your back hit the wall of an abandoned storefront, did you realize you were trapped. 

“I said no. I’m not some damsel in distress. Now, if you can excuse me, I need to keep going before it gets too late.” 

You turned away from him, trying to break any kind of contact with the demon. Maybe if you kept your cool, he’d abandon his little mission.

That was until you felt his hand snake around your wrist, his grip tightening and pulling you to face him. In your state of shock, you dropped the bag containing the Cajun seasoning. You tried to tug your wrist free, but his yellow nails were practically digging into your skin, preventing your escape.

“What’s the rush, Doll? Scared i’m gonna bite or something? Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna harm you. I just want to show you a good time.”

Your eyes narrowed, gaze heated at the stranger. You frowned, glimpsing at his hand on your wrist in disgust.

“What are you doing? I don’t want anything to do with you, now let go of m-!” 

“There you are, my dear!” A masculine voice exclaimed next to you. You felt the creep’s grip on your wrist loosen suddenly. His hand yanked away by another, and your gaze traced the light touch of unknown dark-red fingers gently taking your hand instead.

You snapped your head to the unfamiliar voice, taking in the sight of a second demon standing right besides you, a large grin on his face. He was tall, and he stood a little bit higher than the creep in front of you. His hair was styled in a cropped, angled bob, with an odd pinkish-red shade. Two small antlers protruded from the top of his head, and were those.. ears next to them too?

He was dressed rather formally, with a red pin-stripe coat adorned with a large black bow-tie. Over his right eye, you took note of the small oval-shaped monocle. He held a cane, with an odd looking end. The small oval in the center of it reminded you of an eye. He looked very dapper, like he was from a much older era. 

His gaze was soft, as he looked at you. It wasn’t until his eyes snapped to the stranger in front did they take on a cold, dark glare. That smile never faltered, though. 

Who was this guy? Why was he touching you? You felt the need to tear your hand from his grip as well.

Except, when he turned back to you, his eyes sent you a hidden message. Something like, ‘Go along with it, if you want to get rid of him.’

Seeing as you were stuck between two strange demons, with no idea what this new guy had in store for you, maybe it was a good idea to follow his silent command. Your hand went limp in his grip, and the deer demon raised it to his chest, patting it lovingly.

“Goodness, I leave for ten minutes to go pick up your favorite herbal tea and poof, gone! You are a slippery one, my sweet.” Static dripped from his voice, seemingly connected to the cane at his side. Was it some kind of microphone?

“Who are you?” The stalker questioned, backing up a step as he regarded the new face.

The red demon laughed, an audible ‘ha ha’, as if the creep just told a rather good joke. He extended his free hand in greeting, and the succubus only eyed the gesture with suspicion.

“The name is Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you, sir, quite a pleasure. It’s rare for people these days to not recognize my face, although i’m sure it’ll become familiar soon enough.” 

That ‘soon enough’ sounded quite ominous to you. And, was he some kind of celebrity or something? You didn’t remember him from anywhere. 

“Well, do you mind? Me and the lady were in the middle of a conversation.” The succubus retorted, a slight growl in his tone. 

“The better question is, do you mind, my good sir! Here I am, searching for my dear wife, only to see you bothering her on the corner!” 

Wait a second, did this guy just call you his wife? You stood there, shocked, as you listened to the two bicker. Never would you think you’d hear that uttered from a man. 

“Not only that, but touching her without her consent? My word, what degenerate behavior!” The demon, Alastor, continued. He shook his head in disapproval, an audible tsk-tsk coming from his lips.

“There was no harm in it, we were only having some fun. Ain’t that right, Doll?” The stalker turned to you, fire in his gaze as if daring you to speak.

You shook your head, your gaze snapping to Alastor. He watched you for a moment, before turning his attention back to the succubus.

“It seems your mother neglected to instill in you even a modicum of respect. If my wife weren’t here to witness, I'd be more than obligated to educate you on proper decorum.”

Something flickered in the creep’s eyes, and for a moment he looked almost afraid. After a moment, He sneered, eyeing you up and down. "I don't see a ring on her finger."

Alastor smirked, and gently lifted your hand forward for the demon to get a look at. His grin was that of triumph, as though he was showcasing a prized possession. 

Your eyes widened at the sight, a gasp almost escaping your lips. On your finger, was a small gold ring. It was snuggled nicely around your digit, a perfect fit. 

The Succubus leaned in, and so did you. Where the hell did that come from? That was not there a few minutes ago! 

On closer inspection, you noticed something about the small band. Engraved in a tiny rose-gold font, was a single letter.

A.

"There, now do you see?" Alastor's grin widened, his demeanor playful yet menacing. His eyes narrowed, as he waited for the demon's response. You felt the air crackle with some kind of energy, it was dark and cold. The hair on the back of your neck began to stand on its end, like static. Which one of the demons was doing that?

The stalker’s expression shifted from arrogance to confusion, then to frustration. He furrowed his brow, studying the ring intently as if searching for some kind of flaw.

Was he going to try and argue? The proof was there, albeit fabricated. Alastor dropped your hand, and instead snaked his arm around yours, locking you in place. 

There was no argument didn’t, instead, the succubus took another step back. The demon straightened himself and shrugged, like the scene before him was not a bother, like his filthy plan wasn’t thwarted by the appearance of the powerful deer man. 

“Whatever, I ain’t got time for this anyway. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Lovebirds.”

As the man turned away, Alastor’s grin widened as he nodded his head. “Farewell, and may your endeavors be as futile as your manners!”

He turned to you, that dark look gone from his eyes as he gently tugged at your arm, still laced with his. “Now, my dear, shall we continue on our evening stroll?” 

You nodded slowly, and together, the two of you turned away from the creep and began to walk. You had only made it a few steps before you heard the soft knocking of Alastor’s staff hitting the cement walkway. What was he doing?

Behind you, a strangled cry filled the silence, before a loud thump hit your ears. You jolted at the sound, did something just happen? It sounded like someone got hurt! 

Right as you were about to turn your head to look at where the noises had emanated from, Alastor’s head snapped to you and you felt another gentle tug on your arm to turn your attention back to him.

You looked up at him, a smile forming on your lips as your nerves settled. “Thank you, for saving me, kind sir. I could have been a goner.” 

“It was no trouble at all my dear, and please, call me Alastor. I was simply in the neighborhood and couldn’t just stand by and let that rapscallion manhandle you like that! Now, where are we off to, if I might ask?” 

“Oh, well, Magdalene Drive! It’s a house right at the end of a street, my friend's place actually. She’s expecting me for dinner, that’s why I have this bag of…”

You became suddenly aware of the empty feeling in your hand. Did you forget to pick up the seasoning after you dropped it?! You groaned internally, your head hung in defeat. After all that, you didn’t have the one item you had taken this route to get. 

Alastor raised an eyebrow at your reaction, and you quickly explained, “I needed to get Cajun seasoning for the meal they are making, but I dropped it when that.. man was harassing me! I’m terribly sorry, I have to go back and get it.” 

Alastor only smiled, as usual, and shook his head. He waved his hand in a sweeping motion, brushing off your attempt to turn around.

“Nonsense! We don’t need to bother that poor soul any longer. Here, let me give you one from my personal collection!” 

He lifted his free hand, and snapped his fingers. In a flicker of green light, a small spice jar landed in his palm. Your eyes widened, an amused smile gracing your lips as you watched the little trick. That was pretty cool. Was that the same kind of magic he used to secretly place the ring on your finger? 

“Here you are! The best Cajun seasoning you can find in Pentagram City, my personal favorite. I was going to use it for something special, but it seems you are in need of it more than I.”

He lifted his hand toward you, and you took it gratefully. Lifting it to your nose, you inhaled deeply. It was an odd scent, one you couldn’t quite place, but it smelled quite delicious.

“Not many dishes require such flavoring, what is the meal you are having tonight?”

You shrugged, “I'm not really sure, to be honest. She didn’t say.” 

“Hm, a pity. Have you ever tried Jambalaya? It is a rather magnificent dish, my personal favorite actually! My mother was quite the cook, indeed, and her craft would never miss when producing such delicacies.”

“No, I've never tried it before. What does it taste like?”

“It is hard to put a description on it. It’s almost like.. fireworkings popping off in your mouth! Ha ha, that is a good way to put it. You really must try it sometime.” 

You smiled at Alastor as you listened to his words. Perhaps, you would.

“What got you into this pickle, anyway? Surely you didn’t actually feel like taking a stroll so late in the evening, hm?” He questioned as the two of you continued your pace, “a pretty face like yours will cause quite the stir amongst the filthy rats that like to inhabit this place.”

“Oh, well, I was using my phone for directions. It died on the way here, unfortunately I'm not familiar with this area and couldn’t find my way forward.”

His words finally processed in your brain. Did he just call you pretty? You didn’t get to think about that for much longer as his static-laced voice filled the air once more.

“Ah, of course. This new.. modern technology is nothing short of a fraud, if I do say. What ever happened to the old fashioned paper map? If it were up to me, we wouldn’t be so reliant on such faulty equipment.”

“Is that what your staff is? It looks like a microphone.” You said, pointing to the cane in his other hand.

Alastor glanced down to his cane, and then back to you. “Aha, a clever one indeed! Yes, my dear, I use it for my radio broadcasts!”

You perked at that. Radio? You had one of your own at home. Although it was quite dusty, you did occasionally turn it on to see what latest hits were circling around in the music industry.

“You do radio? That’s actually kind of interesting! Do you have a big audience?”

“Yes, indeed! Back when I was at my highest with it, I had many listeners. Unfortunately, my absence from Pentagram City has led to other forms taking the spotlight. I plan on rectifying that once I've settled in. Perhaps, you could listen in as well to see what I have to offer?”

You nodded at that, perhaps, you would listen in. He had a nice, pleasant voice. It felt like you could sit there for hours and just listen to him speak. Even if the words that came from his mouth was nothing but gibberish, you’d still let his voice drown out your thoughts.

“What about you?” The static dripping from his voice causes you to turn your head, “what do you do for a living?” 

“Oh, well, I work at a men’s formalwear store. So, like tuxedos, dress shirts, and all that jazz. I help assist with fittings and greet guests, basically the doorgirl. Nothing too important.” 

His ears perked slightly as he listened, and he turned his head to you. “Well, isn’t that interesting! Just recently, I had an awfully rude encounter with another demon, who had torn a piece of my suit. That slippery little serpent got away before I could.. question him about his antics.” 

“That’s awful! Who was it?” 

Alastor chuckled, rolling his eyes as he recalled the event. “Oh, nobody of importance, I assure you. Just some pretentious upstart fancying himself as an Overlord, with a knack for building rather ghastly creations of destruction. Since that encounter, I've been in the market for a fresh look. If a place of formal employs such splendid characters like you, I think it would be in my best interest to take a look in your establishment for a new coat”

Your eyes widened, he wanted to buy a new suit at your work because.. you were there? How charming.

Taking another glance at him, you realized he was rather good-looking. His red hair popped out against his much paler skin, it shined against the streetlights above. It looked rather silky and smooth, like you could comb them with your fingers and not find a single knot. 

And those ears? They were pretty cute, actually. They stuck up from his head, and every so often they would twitch or shrivel in the direction of sudden noises. They seemed so soft too, would they feel as good as they looked if you were to squish them between your fingers?

He was a well-mannered gentleman, a pretty rare specimen in Hell. Not only that, but he stepped in to defend you from that creep when he could have simply walked by. He didn’t, and that made your cheeks heat up. Especially with the fact he called you his wife, instead of something simpler like ‘friend’.

What about when he called you pretty? Did he actually mean that? You never regarded yourself as such, but if Alastor thought that, maybe you cou-

“Is this the house?” Alastor’s words pulled you back into reality. You blinked, before looking up at the pale blue cottage snuggled nicely between two large Victorian homes. The talks you were having must have kept you from noticing the large distance.

“Yes! This is the place!” You exclaimed happily, finally, you were here. You turned to him, before looking down at your arm, still laced with his. Slowly, you pulled your arm free. The cold that replaced his touch was unwelcomed. Which felt odd to you, why did you want him touching you still? 

You had only just met him, but perhaps his way of speaking and heroics swooned you enough to miss the warmth of his grasp. Lifting your head to meet his gaze, you tried to see what he was thinking behind that constant smile. 

His eyes were unreadable, but the cold stare he had given the succubus, and to the other onlookers that you had occasionally passed was missing as he looked at you. There seemed to be a smile in his eyes, one that was meaningful and true.

“Well, I'm glad I could assist you in finding your way home, my dear. I quite enjoyed our chat, it is refreshing to hear from a new face once in a while. Especially one as eloquent as yours.”

You had to keep yourself from visibly blushing. He really was a gentleman in all regards. You bowed your head respectfully, before meeting his gaze again.

“The only reason why I'm here is because of you, Alastor. Thank you, and I do hope to run into you in the future. Our conversation was very interesting, I'd love to hear more of it sometime.”

He tilted his head at you, as he regarded your words. “Indeed, perhaps we will. Maybe, the next time we cross paths, I can give you a glimpse into my mothers recipe of Jambalaya. I’m sure your friend would be interested in trying something new the next time you sit down for dinner.”

You smiled at him, before waving goodbye. Turning towards the door you lightly rapped your knuckles against its wooden frame. It was then that you realized you never properly introduce yourself.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I never got to tell you, my name is-”

The words halted in your mouth, as you found the space in front of you empty. Alastor had vanished, not a single trace of his presence remained.

He was gone already? Damn, that guy moved quickly. Maybe, he was just a hallucination, a dream too good to be true. You stood there for a moment, before closing your mouth in thought.

Suddenly, the front door was flung open and a hand reached out and grasped your top. You turned your head just as you were yanked inside. Before you had time to blink, the door was slammed shut behind you. The window near it was shielded by curtains in seconds.

In front of you, your friend stood there. She was breathing heavily, a hand to her heart as if she just witnessed the scariest thing in her life. She quickly held your shoulders, scanning your body for any injuries.

“Oh my gosh! You’re lucky I pulled you in here quickly,” She exhaled a breath to calm her nerves, “You could have been that guy’s next meal!” 

“What are you talking about?” You asked, an eyebrow raised at her strange demeanor.

“Alastor! The Radio Demon! Y’know, the guy that murdered all those overlords years ago?” 

You raised an eyebrow as her words settled in your head. That demon was the Radio Demon? No way! He was such a gentleman, and rather pleasant too! 

“You’re kidding.” 

“I’m not! I don’t know what happened between the two of you, hopefully not a deal, but you need to stay away from him. He’s nothing but a bad omen!” 

You smiled, shaking your head at her antics. She was just being silly, Alastor saved you from potentially being kidnapped. You doubted he’d lay a finger on you in a harmful manner.

“Well, I brought that seasoning. Why don’t we go take a tour of the place, hm?” You said, pulling her away from the doorway and down the hall.

She nodded, her face lighting up instantly. “Yes, a great idea! I can’t wait to show you the kitchen, we replaced practically everything. The flooring is a beautiful marble tile and…“

She trailed off as her gaze shot to your hand, her eyes widening at the sight. Quickly, she grasped it, and pulled it closer to inspect it. You tensed, what was she doing?

“..what is that on your finger? I didn’t know you wore this kind of jewelry!” 

Following her gaze, you turned your hand slightly to see what she was so enthralled about, and your eyebrows raised in surprise at the sight.

Still perfectly snug on your finger, was that gold ring Alastor had magically placed on you. You assumed that it would have dissolved or vanished when he left, but that small A still glimmered in the overhead light.

“I’ll explain it over dinner.” You simply replied, pulling your hand out of her grip and beginning to walk further into the house. 

Your eyes kept landing on the golden band, though. Alastor not far from your mind as you listened to your friend fill you in on all the renovations. It was quite pretty, and it seemed to look great on you. For a moment, a rather odd thought crossed your mind, causing your cheeks to heat as you lamented over it. 

Would it be so bad if you just.. kept it on? 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

woah, first fic of Alastor! I thought he’d be the perfect guy for this scenario. i wrote the reader as sort of a hopeless romantic bc it’s the complete opposite of al and i thought it was funny

EDIT: Part 2 is coming!!

lmk what you think! :)

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Venom To The Rescue- Venom/Eddie Brock x Reader

Summary: Venom comes to readers rescue when she’s harassed by John Walker

Word Count: 1, 710

CW: *does have a scene of sexual harassment so TW for that*

*Want to be tagged in any future Venom/Eddie fics? Click here*

The excess room in the transport van was much appreciated, as you, Eddie and Venom travelled to meet the famous Avengers. Eddie stayed with you for most of the journey, but Venom wanted to take over every now and then, complaining that he wanted to see you and that he was bored.

You knew the main reason for the van was to act as a somewhat transport cage for Venom, especially with the armed guards behind you and one in the passenger seat, but you understood.

Being with Eddie and Venom for the past two years and seeing what Venom could do, you completely understand peoples caution. Venom tried to act innocent and like he didn’t understand the need for armed guards, but he knew why, and you think deep down he was a little proud.

“Are we almost there?” Venom continued to complain.

“I think we’re pulling in now, Vee,” you smile sweetly and patiently at the large alien.

“Mr. Brock, it might be best for you to be the one to meet with the Avengers first,” the armed guard in front of you informed.

“What?! That’s not fair!”

The guards pulled their guns, and Venom smiled wide as he licked his fangs, obviously excited for a fight. You knew this was stressing Eddie out and that Venom could easily take these guys out, so to calm the situation you gently placed your hand on Venoms bicep.

“Hey, V, think of it this way, they see Eddie first and think it’s fine, and then when the times right you can make a big appearance, wowing and scaring everyone.”

You always knew how to stroke Venoms ego to make him behave.

“Very well,” he simply spoke as he let Eddie come back.

Seeing Eddie’s face and body once again, you both sighed a sigh of relief. Holding onto Eddie’s hand tightly, you see the van is slowing down and a woman in a professional looking pants suit and tablet is ready waiting for you.

Giving Eddie’s hand a last squeeze of encouragement, you both step out of the vehicle.

“You must be Eddie and Y/N, welcome to the Avengers headquarters. My name is Maria Hill, and I’ll be introducing you and ah- your friend to the team.”

Maria was sweet, although you could tell a little nervous. You and Eddie knew that the Avengers had seen lots of different and dangerous things, but it seems Venom is still a challenge for them.

Walking down the halls to the planned meeting area, Maria is pointing out different things about the building, where things are, what things do, who certain people are.

As you’re all about to step into the elevator together, you hear someone running over.

“Hey, hold the elevator!” You hear someone yell.

Turning around to look at who the voice belongs to, you notice it is no other than John Walker, aka Fake Cap, as you, Eddie and Venom call him. You knew you’d most likely encounter him today, and you all had to prepare each other to meet him, and be on your best behaviours.

“Ah, John good to see you,” Maria told him, obviously trying to hide a wince, “this is Eddie and Y/N. Eddie is a new potential recruit and Y/N is his partner.”

At hearing you were dating Eddie, something seemed to pass John’s eyes, a look of both intrigue and mischief, but whatever it was, it put you on edge.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he spoke only to you as he stepped into the elevator with you, a little close for your liking.

Eddie put his arm around your waist and you could hear Venom growl. Eddie and Venoms protection of you seemed to amuse him, as he smiled creepily, and his eyes leered at you.

Facing the doors for the rest of the lift ride, you could still feel John’s eyes on you the whole time. Eddie’s grip on you got tighter and tighter as you could tell he was trying to hold back Venom.

You comforted them as they protected you.

Walking into the large lab-like room, the rest of the team stood around an area that was no doubt designed for Venom to show himself. Venom had a crowd and a podium, this is exactly what your little drama queen wanted.

After Maria had introduced you to the anxious group of heros, you let go of Eddie and encouraged him to step forward.

While you watched Venom appear through Eddie, you tried to ignore the way John’s eyes obviously bore into you, as if he was studying your actions. Venom stood to full height and waved at you like a kid at a talent show, your wave back seemed to interest John as his stare became even more intense.

Luckily for everyone, Venom was a little too busy showboating to notice how close John now stood to you.

“Alright, Vee, I think that’s enough, sweetheart, time to bring Eddie back,” you called to him as you could see he was getting a little too excited.

Being with both Eddie and Venom could be challenging sometimes, especially when Venom acted like a toddler, but you knew there was more to him than that. You knew how to wrangle him in, and he knew how to make you laugh and look after you.

The team seemed almost amazed that you could bring him back so easily, but the amazement quickly turned to relief as Eddie appeared again. Everyone parted for Eddie to stand beside you, except for Maria, who had most likely practised keeping her cool, this kid Peter who was more excited then scared, and of course, John.

“Alright well, if it’s alright with you Y/N, we’d like to talk with Eddie in private now. Please feel free to wait in the common room I showed you and we’ll come get you once we’re finished.”

You felt a little worried to leave your boys alone, but you made sure to give Eddie a comforting hug and whisper a stern ‘behave’ into Eddie’s ear, before you left.

********

The common room was nice, it was about midway up the tower with large glass windows to see all over the city. After such a long trip it was to your delight that the room was empty, so you could have any of the big comfy couches all to yourself.

Once you made yourself a drink from one of the fancy machines in the kitchen area, you got yourself comfortable and began to read with your warm drink.

It seemed the meeting with Eddie was taking longer than you thought it would, as you finish a chapter and your drink. Standing up you decide to go back to the kitchen to get a cool drink of water. Unfortunately as you turn toward the kitchen however, you almost run into John.

Seeing him alone, and now standing so close, you try your best to calm your breathing.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in the meeting?” You asked, trying your best to sound pleasant.

Instead of answering, he simply gave you a sly shrug and smile, as he pushed you against a table, trapping you between it and him.

“What the fuck, John?”

You try your best to shove him off, but it’s no use. Looking into his eyes with fear, his stare only appears predatory as one of his hands rests on your hip.

“What? You’re not gonna call me ‘sweetheart’ like you did with the monster? Hmm? Pretty thing like you dating both a man and a monster. What Brock not man enough for you? Need a monster to fuck you too? You really are a kinky little bitch. I like that.”

You were petrified, frozen in fear, as you prepared for him to kiss or grab you, but it never came. Instead you feel his body weight leave yours, and you see him thrown around the room.

Venom lets out a loud growl as he pinned him against the wall by his neck.

“How dare you speak to her like that! How dare you touch her!”

Still frozen from shock, you can’t move to stop him, and it seems like none of the rest of the team want to do anything either. John thrashes about in Venoms grip, and the team look like they’re trying to work out if and how to save him.

“This guys growing on me, I say we let him join,” Bucky laughs to Sam, everyone’s attention on Venom and not you.

Sam simply rolls his eyes at his friend and groans, realising he’s the one who has to stop all this.

“Alright, I think he’s had enough, big guy.”

You knew Sam wouldn’t be enough to stop him, and you didn’t want someone innocent being hurt by Venom.

“Venom!” You finally find your voice and call out.

You try to think of more to say, but as he and Eddie look at your trembling form, it’s enough for him to stop.

“My sweet,” Venom strides over to you, with each step he turns back into Eddie.

“Let’s get you outta here, sweetheart,” Eddie’s hand comes up to gently stroke your cheek.

“Um huh hmm, Eddie and Y/N, if you’d like to follow me, I can show you to a room for you to stay for the night,” Maria awkwardly interrupted, attempting to soothe the situation.

As if in a numb state, you simply followed Eddie while he gently drags you along. You seem to zone out the whole trip there, until you hear a buzz of your door opening.

“Come on, baby. Get you into bed and I’ll hold you.”

Eddie gently pulls you into the room, and begins to make you comfortable. Sweetly laying you down on the double bed, he takes off your shoes and socks, pulls the covers over you and crawls into bed on the other side of you.

“Come here, sweetheart,” he gentle coaxes as he opens his arms.

The second you lay on his warm chest, a floodgate of tears fall down your face, and the fear and anxiety hits you all at once.

“I’m sorry, baby. We love you so much,” Eddie coos as he rocks you, safe in his arms.

[queenofmorningstar]

Caught Between the Vees

The Vees x f! Intern Reader

Summary: You're Vox's date to the gala, where information is flowing like champagne, and you're quick to grab it.

CW: The Vees being unhinged, Vox has some brain cells. Vox tries hardest not to simp, but fails. P in v, fingering, blowjob. Appearance Of Helluva Boss Villains.

Word Count: 4.8K

Part 1| Part 2| Part 3| Part 4| Part 5

Chapter Four: Tv Star

Vox’s arms were crossed, lips pursed as he leaned against the wall, eyes flicking between Val and Velvette, who were both lounging far too comfortably.

Vel was upside down on the couch, legs kicking up over the backrest, her phone in her hands as usual. “So, is no one gonna talk about the fact that I technically called dibs?”

Valentino snorted around his cigarette and waved lazily from his seat. “You didn’t call dibs, you just moved fast. That’s not the same thing, baby.”

“Fast?” Velvette grinned. “She came onto me. I didn’t even need to ask nicely.”

Vox leaned against the edge of the bar and gave a short laugh. His screenface flicked to a flat-line smile, and an expression of exaggerated boredom. “You two act like I wasn’t gonna get there eventually,” he said, sipping his liquor. “I’m playing the long game.”

“Is that what we’re calling sulking now?” Val drawled, flicking ash into a crystal tray. “Damn, baby, just say you are salty and move on.”

Vox rolled his eyes and smirked, but the twist of his mouth said he wasn’t denying it. “I can’t believe you guys fucked her first.”

“Skill issue, darlin’.” Vel mocked him. “You’re trying to be mysterious but we all know you have a large file of her in your system.”

The other two seemed in a mood to irritate him.

“She was delicious,” she drawled, stretching like a cat in sunlight. “Like, I knew she’d be fun, but—ugh. That whimper she makes when she’s close?,” She flicked her gaze across the room with purpose, “And she did—twice.”

“I just think it’s funny,” he said, the pitch of his voice warping just slightly, “how you two couldn’t wait. I mean, really? I was working on a connection. She actually talks to me. We have shared interests. But you two jumped on her like horny animals the second she stepped into the room.”

Valentino took a slow sip, unbothered. “We just didn’t waste time.”

“She’s smart,” Vox snapped. “She respects my ideas and innovations.”

Velvette bit her lip, eyes glittering with mischief. “Mmm, she respected my mouth just fine. Especially when I had her legs shaking around my shoulders.”

Vox’s grip tightened on his glass.

Val snorted. “You didn’t see her when I had her bent over the couch. Both holes full, moaning like a bitch in heat. She loved it.”

Vel chuckled. “I did see some photos of her in that pearl set from your cameras. Lovely. I get why you’re jealous.” 

“I’m not jealous,” Vox hissed. “I just think I should’ve had the first go. She likes me.”

Val hummed, amused. “Sweetheart likes all of us. That’s kind of the point.”

Velvette went back to her phone. “Don’t worry too much. She asks about you all the time. Gets this little smile when your name comes up.”

Vox relaxed at that.

Velvette was the first to break the brief silence that followed Vox’s pissy tantrum, stretching her arms overhead.“So…who’s gonna be the first to say it?”

Val cocked a brow. “Say what?”

“That we don’t want her to leave.”

Vox raised an eyebrow. “…Obviously.”

Val shrugged, slow and lazy, like the idea hadn’t occurred to him in full until this very moment. “Huh. Shit. You’re right. I kinda do want to keep her.”

“I mean,” Velvette said, “we could always just lock her up. Real pretty cage. Satin sheets, room service, a wardrobe full of lingerie and nothing else.”

Valentino let out a low, dark chuckle. “She’d look damn good behind gold bars. All spoiled and pampered. I’d collar her. Something delicate. Diamonds, maybe.”

Vox leaned back, watching them both with a raised brow. “You two sound deranged.”

“Oh please,” Vel purred. “You’re worse than us. You’re just good at hiding it.”

He didn’t respond, which, of course, was answer enough.

“Or or… we kidnap her?” Val offered, completely serious.

“No,” Vox deadpanned. “We are not kidnapping her.”

Val’s expression was halfway between offended and amused. “Why the hell not?”

“Because she’d escape,” Vox snapped. “She’d outwit her way out and have the whole building wired to explode, if she was pissed enough.”

Velvette looked surprised. “Oooh, I guess it does help building that long connection.”

“She’s not gonna want to stay if we trap her,” Vox continued, pacing now, caught in the kind of manic calculation. “She has to want to belong to us.”

Vel raised her brows. “I know that face you’re making. You've got something on her?”

Vox shrugged. “She has too much of a clean slate, it’s suspicious. I’m sure I’ll find something soon.”

__________________________________

The morning light was unforgiving. Everything ached.

After dragging yourself through the usual routine, you were getting ready, and then the doorbell rang. 

When you opened the door, a sleek black box sat neatly on the mat, with Vox’s logo, so you brought it inside. 

Inside, nestled in dark velvet lining, was a dress. An elegant, asymmetrical number in deep, midnight blue. Sleek fabric that shimmered subtly when it caught the light—simple at first glance, but clearly tailored for someone he’d studied. Your curves, your height, the way you move. He’d thought about this.

And below the dress—matching heels. Jewelry. And it wasn’t the only thing matching. A bra and panties, with Vox’s logo. That smug fucker.

Tucked into the side was a handwritten note. You swallowed, suddenly far more awake than you’d been two minutes ago.

“A gift to wear for today’s meeting. It’s more of a show for fake smiles and business. Though I know I won’t be bored with you by my side.

—V”

You saw the invitation attached to it, your name under Vox’s plus one. A very fancy invitation. This was full fucking gala. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

_________________________________

It draped your body with uncanny precision, as if tailored by hands that had studied you from every angle, memorized every curve. The sweetheart neckline framed your curves, the plunge dipped low, scandalously so, a narrow line of bare skin begging to be traced. The slit along your thigh was high, as you tugged on the gloves.

Your nervousness was at an all time high as you smoothed your hands over your hips and stepped into the heels.

The static began before Vox arrived.

You had…chatted with him online, if one can call it that. You had commented on one of his public projects, a design overhaul. 

You had ideas. Not critiques, not flattery. Actual, tactical improvements. Vox hadn’t expected it. He certainly hadn’t expected to agree.

Since then, the messages had become... frequent.

The part he didn’t admit, not even to himself, was how often he found himself waiting. For your name on his screen. For your thoughts. For a sentence that would needle under his skin in that way only yours could.

He’d caught himself adjusting projects to see what you’d say. Leaving things half-finished so you could find the gaps. Vox had never made room for anyone like that, never cared to.

The static got louder.

A flicker in the far corner of the room, from your TV. The faint crackle of a dead channel and flickering of lights.

You didn’t turn. You simply reached for a pair of earrings, deep sapphire drops and fastened them without urgency.

He was behind you by the time you adjusted the last one. “Subtle as ever,” you muttered.

When you met his gaze in the mirror, he was leaning casually against the frame in a deep navy suit, not quite matching your dress but definitely meant to compliment it. Like he’d walked out of a magazine and into your personal space with full awareness of the effect he had.

“You’re early,” you said without looking.

“I like watching the process,” he replied, voice near her shoulder now. “Seeing how something magnificent comes together. It looks better than I imagined.”

“I bet you imagined a lot.” You quipped before you could stop yourself.

“Oh, I did,” He immediately whispered, his hands on your shoulders. Too close.

“And the rest of the… ensemble?” he asked, voice dipped low.

You gave him a long look. “I suppose you’ll spend all evening wondering.”

His grin glitched wider. “Cruel.”

Vox took a slow turn around your apartment like it was a showroom he was about to purchase. Sleek blue claw-like digits trailed across your bookshelf, tapping one spine, then another. 

“I see the other two got to you first,” he said casually, plucking a mug from the counter and inspecting it like it offended him. “Sloppy work. No follow-through. And so unsophisticated.”

You gave him a flat look. “They didn’t hear me complain.”

Vox’s smile curled on his screen. “Ah, but you didn’t beg them to stay either, did you?”

Your pulse raced. It didn't seem like he was competing, no, he seemed to say...I know I'm your favourite.

He stepped closer; but you didn’t step back. Wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. You had a feeling he didn’t tell you this ‘meeting’ was a gala on purpose. He wants to watch you falter just once.

Vox murmured. “You wear my color like it was always meant to be yours.”

Your breath caught.

Your situation has gotten more complicated now. You have to betray them at some point but… you didn’t want to leave either. And you don’t want to betray Charlie either.

He stepped back finally, offering his arm like a gentleman.

__________________________________

The car ride had been silent and you were content watching out of the window, and Vox tapped on various screens displayed in front of him.

The gala was already in full swing by the time they arrived. 

Soft chandeliers hung low; wealth filled the space. Everyone here was somebody, or trying to be. The gala had gothic red colours, like the rest of Pride Ring.

Heads turned as they entered, and whispers followed them. You tried to keep your face neutral, and observe. Vox’s hand remained on the low of your back. 

Conversations faltered mid-sentence, eyes turned to follow their path. Some greeted with over-familiar warmth, others with caution. 

And yet, despite the gravity he carried, he never walked more than a step away from you.

They stopped at clusters of power-players—investors, tech moguls, architects who influenced Hell’s politics. Vox's voice was smooth, clipped, and professional, and you enjoyed watching him in his element.

He didn’t walk ahead of you or present you like a prize, which surprised you. He kept you precisely at his side, a half-step within reach. And every time Vox leaned toward someone with a proposition or a promise, he glanced at you first. For your insight.

You answered back to him in small nods and murmured observations, only for his ears.

The crowd noticed.

They noticed how his attention, sharp as it was, always bent in your direction before it snapped back to whoever he was dealing with. They noticed how he adjusted his approach based on your words. And more importantly—they noticed how he listened.

There was something dangerous in that. Because Vox didn’t listen to anyone.

He cut through conversations like a scalpel, left deals on the table half-finished if they no longer amused him, left people hanging on promises he’d never intended to keep. He brought you into the fold of every discussion, every negotiation, every web he wove.

They were halfway through the circuit of the room when a familiar imp, Crimson, approached them.

“Vox, my friend,” Crimson drawled, reaching out a hand. “I've been waiting for a moment with you all evening.”

Vox returned the greeting with his usual detached politeness. “You and half the room, Crimson. What makes your moment worth my time?”

Crimson didn’t flinch. “Because I’ve got an exclusive shipping corridor through the lower circles—clean, untouched, and ready to be digitized for your network. Imagine it: your signals running through every infernal trade route. We split it fifty-fifty.”

You said nothing at first. Vox casted a glance at you, silent.

Crimson, oblivious, pushed on. “No interference, no watchdogs. I’ve even paid off the Greed ring enforcers. You’d be foolish not to take it.”

You tilted your head, just slightly. “And how long before your 'exclusive' route is compromised by your interference?”

Crimson blinked. “What—”

“They’ve been scouting that same corridor for weeks,” you continued, voice calm, almost pleasant. “You haven’t bought off their informants. You’ve just distracted them. Temporarily. The moment Vox invests in your little scheme, they’ll know. And they'll come for it. Hard.”

The air tightened. Crimson’s smile strained. “And you are…?”

Vox didn’t let him finish.  

He turned slightly toward you, as if Crimson didn’t exist now. “Go on.”

You went in for the kill. “You’re selling a liability dressed up as an opportunity. And you thought Vox would be too distracted by the gaudiness to notice the risk.”

The silence that followed cracked like ice. Crimson’s mask faltered, fury and embarrassment clawing at his composure. “I don’t recall inviting her into this conversation.”

Vox’s screen turned slowly back toward him. His voice dropped to a dangerous calm. “Then you’ve made your second mistake tonight.”

The tension snapped. A few nearby demons subtly drifted away, pretending to be interested in the art installations, but their ears stayed tuned to the fallout.

Crimson muttered a curse, smoothed his coat, and retreated with as much dignity as he could muster, which wasn’t much.

Vox said nothing for a moment. Then, quietly said to you, “I would’ve let him string the pitch a little longer.”

You gave a soft, knowing smile. “You would've been bored within a minute.”

A low burst of laughter escaped him. “Correct. And now I’m entertained and unburdened.”

His gaze lingered on you. You didn’t just protect his interests, but enhanced them. Where he tore things apart, you slipped the knife in between the ribs with surgical precision. 

_______________________________

The waltz began with a slow melody, the crowd shifted to form pairs in smooth precision, toward the center of the ballroom.

Vox was speaking with two high-level investors near the dais, his tone clipped but magnetic. You could hear the trace of static in his voice—his usual sign that he was barely restraining the urge to end the conversation. He wouldn’t miss you, not for a few minutes, right?

You stepped away with the kind of practiced silence that wouldn’t draw attention. Your eyes swept the floor until they landed on him—Striker.

The outlaw and Vox’s secret little weapon supplier. He shouldn’t have been here. He hated galas. But Vox had insisted, probably to keep the weapons trade on a short leash. And Striker, ever the opportunist, never said no to a chance to stir the pot.

You caught him just as the music pulled into a smooth dip. “Dancing alone, cowboy?”

Striker blinked, surprised but not displeased. “Doll, I didn’t know Vox let you off the leash.”

You smiled sweetly. “I don’t work well with leashes.”

He chuckled low, offering his hand with a dramatic bow. He took her hand, and they joined the swirl of bodies under the blood-crystal chandelier. Striker moved well, unexpectedly elegant for someone who normally solved problems with violence.

They moved in a quiet rhythm for a moment. “Tell me,” you said lightly as you spin, “how someone like you ends up dealing in such... divine materials.”

Striker raised an eyebrow, but he grinned. “You mean the angelic steel?"

That confirmed your suspicions. “I mean exactly that.”

He twirled you, letting the movement give him a moment to think.

You pressed forward. “So, this smuggling pipeline of yours… how do you pull it off without the Exorcists breathing down our necks?”

Striker’s pride swelled at the question. He saw an opportunity to impress. And god, did he take it.

“Well,” he said, voice dropping into that conspiratorial drawl, “most of these uptight angels don’t bother watching the lower districts. We gathered all the angelic steel left behind after extermination. The angels have endless supply, so they litter it around there. Black market salvagers sweep it, I get it refined, and poof, it’s in Vox’s vaults before sunrise.”

You raised your eyebrows, just enough to look impressed. “Clever.”

“Damn right it is. It’s all about timing and contacts. I use a backdoor through Lust’s border—nobody checks shipments going out of Asmodeus’s territory. Too busy with... other things.”

You laughed softly, your work was done here. You pulled back, gave him a coy little smirk, and twirled herself out of his arms, spun backward into another set of arms waiting just behind you. Arms that caught you without hesitation, like they’d been expecting you all along…

________________________________

It took less than a second for Vox to find you. You were on the far side of the dance floor, with Striker.

Striker’s hands rested a little too comfortably at your waist, his cocky smile in full display as he leaned in to say something, likely some arrogant pitch masked as flirtation. Vox saw the curve of your lips, soft and amused. You tilted your head, inviting more.

But Vox knew better. He’d seen that tilt before. It was the angle you used when you were dissecting someone. You were studying Striker, and Vox didn’t know why. That was what irritated him most.

Vox’s hands flexed at his sides, sleek fingers twitching in suppressed agitation. A thousand calculations ran behind his screen. What were you after? What was he offering? And why hadn’t you told him?

It wasn’t about trust. Against his better judgment, against the nature of Hell itself, he trusted you. Which made this sting more.

He began to move. He crossed the floor with precision, never breaking eye contact with the pair, though only Striker noticed. And Striker, of course, smirked. That was the moment Vox arrived.

In one seamless motion, you slipped from Striker’s grip and pivoted gracefully into Vox’s arms, your body aligning against his like it was the only place you belonged.

Your smile returned, faint and unbothered, as if this had all gone exactly to your plan.

Vox caught you instinctively, arms settling around your waist. His screen flickered once. “Enjoy your detour?” he asked, voice low, modulated just above the music.

You looked up at him with those bright, clever, utterly unrepentant eyes. “Immensely. Striker’s quite talkative when he thinks he’s being clever.”

Of course you had a reason. He pulled you closer, turning them into the rhythm of the dance with practiced grace.

“And here I thought I was the manipulative one,” he murmured.

You leaned into him, just slightly. “I learned from the best.”

That did it.

You moved with him, matching every step, every subtle shift of weight, as if you had always belonged in his orbit. And Vox knew, more clearly than he ever had before, that you weren't just his partner in business. You were his partner in war.

With a sound like a channel switching frequencies too fast, the ballroom around them flickered and vanished.

They rematerialized in a burst of blue light, the air humming with residual voltage. His room was bathed in electric cobalt glow, the walls covered in various screens.You would have thought it was the room of a nerd gamer. The room looked straight out of cyberpunk fiction. The ceiling was…part of an aquarium. The water rippled above, and you saw sharks swimming around in circles above.

“You really couldn’t wait till dessert?” you teased, walking deeper into his space. But your teasing smile dropped when you saw his expression.

He stalked toward you until he was close enough that the glow from his screens painted your skin in electric blue. “I want to know every thought you’ve ever had. Every theory, every witty remark, I want everything you have, darling.”

Oh. oh.

The second his mouth touched yours, the world fell away. His lips were soft but hungry, like he was trying to memorize your taste, like he was starving and you were the answer to every ache he’d never named. Your heart thundered against your ribs, frantic and traitorous.

Everything about you—the tilt of your head, the way your fingers grabbed at his jacket like you couldn’t decide if you wanted to pull him closer or push him away—it all made his blood race in the best way. Finally. Finally.

But then you kissed him back, and Vox felt something unravel. One of the screens cracked behind them, reacting to the sudden spike in his pulse.

His mouth descended to your throat, kissing, licking and bit down, just enough to make you gasp and smiled against your pulse when he felt it flutter like wings. His fingers dipped under the hem of your dress, tracing the line of your thigh, not touching anywhere you truly wanted him but just close enough to make you ache.

Vox’s lips were on your jaw then your collarbone, then lower, his teeth scraping just enough to make you squirm. “I want to see how fast I can make you forget every clever thought in your head,” he whispered.

This kiss was filthier. All tongue and teeth and desperate friction. His hips pressed into yours like a question, and your answer was the soft moan he swallowed whole. Every part of him wanted to be everywhere—his hands roaming, mapping you like he was trying to memorize your body.

"You're unreal," he muttered against your lips, his fingers sliding to trace your ribs then down the small of your back. “Like someone designed just to fuck with me.”

The moment the zipper hit the base of your spine, your dress slid down like it was relieved to be dismissed. Vox’s hands followed it, palms dragging over your skin slowly, like he needed to feel every inch of what had been hidden from him.

“Fuck,” he breathed, just looking at you. “You actually wore it.”

The bra was delicate and right between your breasts, stitched in electric blue shimmered his logo. The matching panties clung to you like a second skin with the same signature mark in front of your pussy.

He spun you around, catching you effortlessly as he dropped into the bed behind them and dragged you onto his lap, facing away from him. Your back to his chest, your thighs spread over his. 

Since the screens were off, the black surface reflected them. You felt blood rush to your cheeks.

“Look,” he said, one hand sliding up her stomach to cup her breast, thumb brushing the embroidered logo. “Look how fucking perfect you are in my colors.”

His other hand slid between your legs, pressing over the logo on your panties before slipping beneath it. Two fingers dragged through slick heat, slow, teasing, making you gasp and buck back against him.

He moaned, rutting up against your ass. “I want to watch your face when you come. I want to see every twitch, every whimper, every time you lose control.”

His fingers plunged in and you cried out, legs spreading wider instinctively. He curled them just right, and your hips jerked in his lap, the friction driving you insane.

You managed to open your eyes back to your reflection. Your head rolled back on his shoulder. His hand buried between your thighs. Your bra pulled down, exposing your breasts—one already in his hand, the other bouncing with every panting breath.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he growled. “And you’re going to come just like this. On my fingers and wearing my name.”

“Vox—” Your voice cracked, high and desperate. 

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Vox,” you moaned, nails digging into his thighs, legs trembling. “I’m gonna—fuck!”

He bit down on your neck, fingers working faster, harder, relentless and perfect.

Your body arched, mouth open in a silent scream as you come hard, clenching around his fingers, your thighs shaking.

Vox groaned, burying his face in your neck as he slowed his fingers, coaxing you through it. “That’s it,” he whispered. “So fucking beautiful. I could watch that forever.”

You were still panting when he finally pulled his hand away and brought it to his mouth, licking your cum off his fingers with a hum of satisfaction.

You didn’t like his smug grin, as if he knew he was always in control. You shifted in his lap, but instead of turning to straddle him like he expected, you slid down.

Vox stilled. “What are you—?”

Your fingers moved to his belt, your gaze locked with his as you unbuckled it. “You’ve had your fun,” you said, voice smooth, almost casual but your hands betrayed you, shaking slightly.  “Now I get mine.”

Vox’s head tipped back, a sharp hiss escaping him as you unzipped him and pulled him out. He was achingly hard, flushed and leaking at the tip. You wrapped one hand around him, giving a single slow stroke, and watched his body twitch.

“Look at you,” you murmured, thumb swiping over the head. “So fucking needy.”

You smiled innocently and leaned in. The first drag of your tongue along the underside of his cock had his hips jerk. His blue-tipped claws scratched into the sheets. “Shit…fuck—”

You licked him again, slower this time, savoring him. 

Then you took him into your mouth. You sucked in just the head, tongue swirling around it. Vox’s hands twitched, desperate to grab you, to thrust up, but he held back barely.

His hand found the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair. “Deeper,” he whispered. “Please—fuck—deeper.”

You took him down slowly, letting his cock slide past your lips, past your tongue, until your nose brushed his pelvis and he groaned like you’d stabbed him with pleasure. You pulled back, slow and wet, then repeated it, faster, then again—until your head was bobbing in steady rhythm.

Vox was falling apart.

The way his voice cracked when you gagged a little, the way his thighs trembled when you moaned around him. Then you sucked him in, hard and deep, while stroking the base with one hand.

With a sharp, guttural groan, Vox’s whole body tensed. His hips bucked just once, and then he came—hot, thick, spilling into your mouth as he cried out your name like it hurt. You tried swallowing most of it, then slowly pulled off with a lewd pop.

He was still breathing like he’d just fought off a damn riot, head thrown back, lips parted, cock twitching despite just finishing in your mouth. But seeing you like this–

Vox was on his feet in a second, lifting you effortlessly and tossing you onto the bed behind them like you weighed nothing. You bounced on the plush mattress, laughing breathlessly as he stalked after you, already pulling his shirt over his head.

Your legs parted for him instinctively, and he settled between them, one hand braced beside your head, the other running down your side like he couldn’t believe you were real. 

His eyes roamed your body, then his mouth crashed onto yours, tongue plunging in deep, and his hips aligned with yours, cock pressing hot and hard against the soaked fabric of your panties.

Vox pulled your panties aside and slammed into you in one rough, hungry thrust. You cried out, arching under him, nails clawing at his shoulders. You felt him so deep, stretching you open with a delicious burn that made your head spin. “Fucking hell, Vox—”

His rhythm was brutal at first, but then he slowed, grinding in deep, letting you feel every inch as he stared down at you like he was gazing at art.

Your eyes fluttered open. “What are you looking at?”

“You,” he whispered, brushing hair from your face. “The smartest, most infuriating, most perfect thing I’ve ever seen.”

You pulled him down and kissed him hard, legs wrapping tight around his waist, locking him in.

He picked up the pace again, pounding into you now, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room along with your moans, his groans, and the creak of the mattress as he drove deeper into you.

“You feel…fuck—you feel so good,” he gasped, voice losing control and buffering. “So tight, so warm—god.”

He shifted, grabbing one of your legs and hooking it over his shoulder. The new angle sent him even deeper, and you screamed, back arching off the bed as your orgasm slammed into you like a wave.

He watched you unravel completely under him. Your mouth open, your body shaking—and it shattered his control. He thrust wildly now, panting your name like a prayer, chasing his release.

When he came, his whole body seized as he spilled inside you, deep and messy and claiming.

He collapsed on top of you, breath ragged, heart pounding like a war drum against your chest. As you tried catching your breath, you chuckled at his screen with error messages.

[WARNING: LETHAL LEVELS OF BEAUTY DETECTED]

[PROXIMITY ALERT: GOD-TIER BABE IN RANGE]

[MELTDOWN IMMINENT]

[CRITICAL FAILURE: HEART RATE UNSTABLE]

[REASON: HER]

[SOLUTION: UNKNOWN. MAYBE JUST DIE??]

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

Notes: The dress I imagined for the reader.

Vox’s room as I imagined.

The Foursome and Finale is coming soon and I can't wait for you guys to read it!!

Next>>>>

[akkivee]

so about that hipumubi 👀

[ohtobeleah]

Was It Over? // Jake Seresin

-> Chapter Thirteen: [Panic Room]

Summary: Jakes darkest fears come to fruition when surgery doesn’t go as planned and the months to come bring a new reality he never saw coming.

Warnings: MAIN CHARACTER DEATH Sick!reader. Breast cancer diagnosis. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Angst, hospital & medical inaccuracies. SLOW BURN ROMANCE/ Inaccurate medical information. Relationship turmoil. Mentions of religion.

Word Count: 5.5k

Author Note: A big show of appreciation and love to @a-reader-and-a-writer (Vee) for constantly being ready and willing to help me with my writing. You have been the backbone I needed to get this done!

You guys will never know how much this series means to me. And in the same breath, you guys will never know how much your support truly means. Merry Christmas Eve Eve 2024 ya filthy animals.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Researchers say the average length of a dream is two to three minutes long. But many people experience their dreams as hours, days, or even years if they can remember them at all. 

The science of dreaming has been questioned for hundreds of years. Some hypothesise that dreams are our way of processing real events that occur when we’re awake. They also serve as an outlet for repressed hopes and desires. Neuroscientists introduce a new theory every few years. But honestly, no one knows why we dream. 

Or why we have nightmares. We just hope that after the dream, we wake up. 

“We’ve gone over all the risks, weighed up all the possible outcomes, dotted I’s and crossed T’s. Today is the day, Mrs. Seresin.” Doctor Morrison was hopeful in his consultation. The white coat-wearing man reassured you as he placed your chart back where it belonged. “How are you feeling?” 

The question went unanswered for a moment or two. You felt like you were in a state of shock. Unable to truly express how you felt just hours before going into what could be life-changing surgery. You were giving everyone in the room a thousand-yard stare. Mentally and physically, you had checked out. Like you’d been stuck in a nightmare that wouldn’t stop torturing you. 

“We had some bad news last night. A close friend passed away unexpectedly,” Jake answered on your behalf. “Is there any way–” 

“We need to do this now, Mr. Seresin, or we won’t be able to revisit this for a few months,” Dr. Morrison explained with an emphasis on the matter of now or never. “I understand personal circumstances may have changed. However, knowing everything you know about risk and recovery and survival rates after double mastectomies, I recommend we stick to the organised care plan.” 

“Can we have a moment alone?” Jake asked cautiously as his hand came to rest gently on your shoulder. You hadn’t moved from what could only be described as a catatonic-like state for the entire duration of the conversation. 

“Of course,” Dr. Morrison nodded. “I’ll come back after I’ve checked in on a few patients.” 

It didn’t take long at all for the oncology crew to exit the room. But the second they did, you felt like you could breathe again. 

“I can’t go through with this surgery Jake,” you begged. Fear of the unknown had taken over your entire being. “I can’t do this,” 

“You are the strongest person I know, honey, the kids and I really need you to do this.” Jake tried his best to comfort you as well as remind you why this surgery was so important. “We need you, yeah? We need you to stick around and this fucking cancer, this disease, is trying to cut that time short.” 

“But Jensen–” 

At the height of the Great Depression, Harvard scientists started tracking students in hopes of discovering the key to a long and happy life. They looked at participants’ mental and physical health over seventy-five years. It’s the longest study of happiness to date. Seventy-five years and all they did was confirm what we’ve known since the beginning of time. 

The most powerful predictor of health and happiness is the quality of our relationships. 

Strong relationships protect us. Loneliness on the other hand…can be deadly. 

“Would want you to keep fighting and have this surgery.” Jake could have said he thought Jensen was a coward. He could have said how angry he was at that fucker for leaving you alone in this world with no one to confide in who knew the struggle, who knew the feeling of being told you’re sick and need to get sicker in order to get better. 

Jake could have told you how he wished Jensen had survived so he could kill him himself. Jake could have responded with the fact Jensen was terminal and there was nothing on this earth that could have saved him from his illness. 

Jake could have told you that Jensen thought you hung the stars and the moon in the night sky every night just for him…but then Jake would also have to admit to himself and you that maybe, just maybe, you should have moved on. 

“What would he say right now if he was here?” Jake settled on that question just to keep himself sane. He didn’t want to open yet another can of worms right before your surgery. This was all one big giant nightmare already, he didn’t want to make it worse. If anything, Jake kept pinching himself in secret just hoping that maybe he’d wake up on the couch and this cancer saga would all be some sadistic subconscious dream of his. 

He’d always been deathly afraid of not being good enough for you. 

“He’d tell me to do it,” you sighed as you let your head rest against the upright bed. “He’d tell me to be strategic about the battle, the war is the endgame.” 

“Exactly, one battle at a time, step by step,” Jake agreed with a cheeky smile. That signature Seresin smile you so effortlessly loved. “You’re not gonna hand in the white flag before the battles even really begins, are you?” 

“Kinda want to if I’m being completely honest with you,” you responded knowing Jake would appreciate the honesty. “But I guess you and the kids really need me to stick around, huh?” 

“Oh, I can’t even begin to explain how much we need you to stick around, honeybee.” it was as honest and as sincere as Jake could be. He wore his heart on his sleeve for you. He exposed every nerve he had just so you could dance your feather-like fingers across the tender strings that made Jake, Jake. 

“I’m so scared of being alone in the operating room,” you admitted as Jake leaned in to leave a gentle kiss on your forehead. “I’m so scared they won’t see me as a person,” It was an explanation that broke Jake’s heart even though he believed his heart couldn’t be broken any more. “That they won’t remember I’m me, that I have a life and a family and people who will miss me.” 

Over the course of our lives, our relationships ebb and flow. We get together, break up, move away, or fall out of touch. It’s prolonged periods of loneliness and toxicity that wreak havoc on our health, our brain function, and our longevity. 

“You’re never alone,” Jake replied softly as tears threatened to spill over his waterline. “I’m always with you, the kids are always with you, Jensen, your mum, everyone will be with you during that surgery, we’re gonna be waiting on the other side.” 

“I love you so much, Jake Seresin,” you smiled brightly through a tight-lipped smile Jake wished he could save in his mind’s eye forever. “Let’s win this battle.” 

“And the war too,” Jake replied as he reached for your hand, gave it a soft squeeze, and brought your palm to his lips. “Let’s fucking do this, Y/n.” 

*************************************

Jake sat waiting by the vending machine as he picked at the small single service-sized packet of original Lays he’d nearly had to beg the machine to drop. His watch told him it was almost nearing the end of your surgery. He wasn't stressed, not when your surgeon had been so hopeful and calming. Jake had spent far too much of his time recently worrying about the what-ifs. He wanted to focus on the now. And that now was the fact you would have been nearing the end of your surgery. Which meant soon enough he’d get to see you again. 

The only thing that kept Jake on his toes was the ever-looming doubt that perhaps the treatment plan wouldn't be enough. He hoped that you had enough fight in you to make it through the journey. He needed you to have enough strength to fight. 

“She should be coming out of surgery soon–” Jake explained as he held his phone up to his ear and tried not to chew so loud. “The kids know that Rooster is picking them up to bring them home to Grandma Maz’s house?” 

“Yeah, Mum’s not too happy about it but she won't keal over about it,” Jasmine replied as she watched her brother's kids play with hers in the backyard she and Jake used to make mud pies in. “Rooster messaged about an hour ago saying he was close, he shouldn't be too far away now.” Jas continued in her own little world. Jake was used to not being able to get a word in with his youngest sister. “I can't believe Y/n has fucking cancer–does her side of the family have a history or…?” 

“Not that we know of, it's just really bad luck, Jas,” Jake sighed as he let his head fall back against the wall his chair was pressed up against. “But hopefully with this surgery and the chemo, she’ll be able to beat it.” 

“Well, you tell her that I’m pissed she gets a boob job before I do,” Jasmine tried her best to keep the situation as light-hearted as possible. “Make sure she gets a good rack, not too small or too big, like a good handful that's just right.” 

“I'll be sure to let her know,�� Jake smiled, he really could count on his sister for that. “Oh, I gotta go, I see Y/n’s surgeon.” Jake sat up in anticipation as anxiety flooded his nervous system. “Tell the kids we love them for me.” 

“Have been every day,” Jasmine replied quickly knowing her brother probably had his phone down from his ear by now. “Bye.” 

Jake was quick to pocket his phone and wipe the crumbs from his shirt as he stood to greet your surgeon. However, something seemed off about the man who had seemed so confident before your surgery. 

“Mr. Seresin–” 

“How is she?” Jake asked. He didn't mean to interrupt, but he needed to know first and foremost before any medical mumbo jumbo. “My wife, how’d the surgery go?” 

There was a very telling pause that accompanied the sober look that Doctor Morrison wore, but Jake tried not to read into it all that much. He knew you would be fine. 

Right? 

“Mr Seresin, your wife's heart was weakened by the stress of her recent stroke,” Doctor Morrison began to explain as Jake stood there expecting good news. “She, unfortunately, went into a cardiac arrest–” the air around Jake disappeared. Almost instantly, he felt as if he were floating in space. “We tried to revive her for the better half of twenty minutes while she was on the table,” There was a pause. A telling moment where reality and fantasy were trying to battle it out. Who’s version of events would win? When Doctor Morrison saw Jake’s mind short-circling with an inability to process the magnitude of information, he felt as if he needed to continue explaining the severity of the situation. 

“It was catastrophic, and I'm afraid we've lost her.” Doctor Morrison had told far too many loved ones over the years that they had lost family members, but never in all his years had he ever seen such immediate denial written in the lines on someone's face. “Mr. Seresin, your wife has died.” The words Doctor Morrison was saying were not sinking in as Jake stood there completely blind to the reality happening around him. “I’m so sorry for your loss–” 

“Uh–” Jake frowned as the confusion kicked in. “I'm sorry, you must have mistaken me for someone else. My wife was fine before she went in for surgery, she was fine.” 

“Yes, yes, your wife was fine, yes–” Doctor Morrison tried to keep his composure, but even after all these years the losses still hurt. It made him feel human to experience the emotions alongside the family members, but in the first few seconds of watching Jake Seresin spiral into a hole of denial that you were, in fact, gone, Doctor Morrison, knew this particular loss would haunt him for the rest of his career. 

Speaking slowly, Doctor Morisson tried once more to explain what had happened in a way that Jake would understand. “The stress of the surgery along with her recent stroke…her body just couldn't handle the stress. Her heart experienced a cardiac episode and we unfortunately couldn’t revive her.” 

The immediate silence between the two men was all-consuming as it was telling. Jake’s heart was breaking in two. 

“Is there someone I can call for you?” Doctor Morrison tried to be as empathetic as he could be, this part of the job was never easy. The part where he was tasked with telling loved ones that the people they loved had passed on his table. They were few and far between, but the people he did lose would forever haunt him. He could name every single one and their family’s name too. Jake Seresin would be a name Doctor Morrison would remember for the rest of his life and into the next. 

“Are you out of your mind?” Jake pushed back almost immediately as he tried to wrap his head around what he was being told. This didn’t make any sense, you were just here. You were fine. 

“No, Mr. Seresin I–” Doctor Morrison tried to explain again, but it was to no avail.

“I–Okay, I think you must be mistaken,” Jake wiped his hand on his jeans as he stepped back. “I just need to ge–”

“Mr. Seresin, please.” Doctor Morrison tried to stop Jake from leaving the waiting area, but Jake just stepped further back with a frown of disgust and grief. He was still holding his packet of Lays. 

“No, no can you just, can you back up?” Jake nearly growled. “Can you leave me alone?” Jake looked around as he tried to remember how to breathe. People were staring at him like he was in a zoo. A caged and cornered animal begging to be left alone. “Can somebody get this person to just give me some space please?” It was as heartbreaking as it was cruel to watch Jake walk down the hall towards where he knew your hospital room was. 

“Y/n?” He called out hoping you'd be back by now. “You won’t believe this guy, honey. He just–” The moment Jake rounded the corner and saw your hospital room empty with no sign of you, he stood still. All the air had been sucked right from his lungs as his eyes scanned the room. Your Christmas lights weren’t flashing, your bed wasn't made, and your laptop sat open with a black screen, but just where you’d left it. You weren't back. 

“Y/n?” Jake whispered under his breath as his eyes continued to scan the empty hospital room just waiting for you to appear from out of the bathroom or sneak up behind him. But Jake knew you weren't about to appear even though he wished for nothing more. 

“Oh–” One step, two steps, three steps, four. Jake didn't know where he was but he was on the move. He couldn't stay here looking at an empty room. He had to find where you were. “Oh god, no, no no no no no, please no don’t take her away from me.” 

“Jake!” The woman's voice Jake had come to know over the last few days broke through the fog that was clouding Jake's mind. He continued to stumble blindly down the ward. “I just heard,” Lydia explained as she rushed up to the man who she had come to know as your husband. “I'm so sorry, I wasn't expecting this to happen. I thought–” Lydia quickly reacted when Jake's knees buckled underneath him. 

“Woah! I need a little help over here!” Doctor Morrison was quick on the draw as he made his way over to where Jake now kneeled on the floor unable to breathe. 

“My wife–” Jake tried to talk as he hyperventilated. “Y/n!” he cried out for all to hear. “Y/N!” 

“She's gone.” Doctor Morrison had to make sure the fact was sinking in. 

“Oh Jake, I’m so sorry–” Lydia tried to console the six-foot-something man who had crumbled to his knees. “Your wife was an amazing woman.” 

Jake still couldn't believe it, he didn't believe it, and he wouldn't. The pain he felt inside his chest, the burning hot sensation was excruciating. He’d never felt such a feeling of grief mixed with denial and so much love. You couldn’t be gone. He was having a nightmare, wasn’t he? This wasn't real. He was dreaming. This was all one big dream. It had to be. It had to be a nightmare his subconscious had concocted. A nightmare where Jake lost it all. His biggest fears were realised. 

“I need my wife, I need Y/n,” Jake sobbed as Lydia kneeled on the ground in front of him just assessing his current state of shock. “I can't, she can't–no no no she's fine, please tell me she's fine.” 

“I'm so sorry, Jake,” Lydia confirmed what Jake wished so desperately wasn’t true. “She’s gone,” Lydia’s voice became distorted as she held the broken man in her arms. “You need to wake up before it's too late.” 

************************

Bradley Bradshaw was accustomed to losing the people he loved the most in this world. He’d lost his father, his mother, and his grandparents. For a while there he’d lost the only man who had ever slightly filled the shoes his dad left behind. But the loss of someone who was still there was something he’d never had to handle before. 

“Nat, he hasn’t gotten out of bed in days,” Bradley groaned as he cleaned up the kitchen. “The kids already lost their mother,” Bradley tried his best to keep his voice down, but the way little Lennox clocked Bradley from where he was sitting at the dining table made him realise he wasn’t one to talk on the quiet side. “They don’t need to lose their dad too.”

Jake stood just outside of Bradley’s eyeline, but he could hear everything the giant overgrown bird was saying. He couldn’t hear what Phoenix was saying but there was enough back and forth on Bradley’s behalf to easily fill in the gaps. 

“No. No, he hasn’t been down since the funeral.” Jake forgot how to exhale at the mere mention of your funeral as he hid in the hall. He couldn’t remember ever getting ready or speaking at your wake. He couldn’t remember who drove them or if the kids cried. He couldn’t remember hugging your mother or shaking your brother’s hand. Jake couldn’t remember any details about the flowers he’d organised or the people who were there. 

The anti-depressants weren’t helping. Nothing was. Nothing would. 

Until today, Jake couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed. Without you, there was no point. He was begrudgingly okay with living a life in a world where you were still in it. But living in a world where you were no longer present wasn’t something Jake was willing to do. The kids would be fine with their grandparents. They’d be fine with Uncle Rooster. Lennox and Lucy and little Sammy didn’t need him. How was he supposed to look into their eyes and know he could never see the twinkle in yours ever again? 

“I’m really worried about him, Nat,” Rooster sighed as he held his phone up to his ear with his shoulder. He was working on making little Samy some banana pancakes. “As much as I want to, I can’t stay here forever, but he needs someone.” 

“No one is asking you to babysit me, Bradshaw,” Jake replied to the statement Bradley wasn’t expecting an answer to. “You can leave, trust me, I can drop the kids off with my mum.” 

Bradley stood stunned into silence as he watched Jake round the corner and into vision. He reluctantly reached for his phone and hung up as Phoenix questioned what was going on. 

“Hey man,” Rooster finally broke the silence as he watched Jake walk closer and closer to where Sammy sat in his high chair. “How you feeling today?” 

“Well, my wife’s still dead, so that’s something,” Jake replied with a sigh as he picked up Sammy and placed him on his lap. Lennox could see the look of pure admiration in his younger brother’s eyes as Jake hugged the smallest of the Seresin kids. “Seriously, you’ve done enough for us, I got it from here.” It was the biggest lie Jake had ever tried to tell not only himself but his best friend. 

“Uh,” Bradley wasn’t convinced. “Are you sure? I mean–I wanna stay as long as you need man,” Bradley tried to plead his case as Jake went about his business with Sammy. The business being nothing. Jake stood somewhat dazed and lost in the middle of the clean-ish kitchen. A kitchen he knew where nothing was. It wasn’t his. It was yours. 

“I think the kids should come back to North Island with me,” Jake opted to ignore what Bradley was saying. Instead, he decided to continue with a vague plan for what the future holds. A future he didn’t want to have with you. A future he didn’t care about. 

“You want the kids to uproot everything they know?” Rooster frowned as he looked over to where Lenny sat watching on. The kids were down, to say the least. Bradley could recognise himself in the permanent pout that had taken shape across Lennox’s face. The puffy eyes and saddened expression really tied the whole look of mourning together. They were just kids, they didn’t deserve any of this. “I don’t think you should be thinking about coming back to work anything soon either.” 

“I don’t need you micromanaging me,” Jake hissed as he held onto his youngest son, all the while his eldest watched on with concern for his dad. “I need you to go home, Rooster, we’ve got it from here.” 

“You don’t got anything, Seresin. Are you kidding me right now?” Bradley didn’t mean to come across as so defensive. But he’d seen Jake in this grief-fueled spiral long enough to know that his destructive and depressive mindset would end up causing more distress for the kids than intended. Jake was a good dad, that had never been questioned. Until now… Bradley wasn’t sure if his best friend could handle parenting three small children without a village to back him up. “The kids haven’t seen you in days–” 

“Would you rather them see me at my worst or not see me at all?” Jake’s grief was eating away at him. So much so that Jake began to wish each time he closed his eyes he’d get to stay with the version of you his mind had envisioned. “I’m fine, I’ve got it from here,” Jake sighed as he hugged little Sammy with all the strength that he had. “I wasn’t, but I’m fine now and I just wanna spend time with the kids.” 

“I don’t believe a word you’re saying right now man,” Bradley replied as he caught sight of Lucy coming down the hall. She’d been sleeping much like her father was. Great, all three Seresin children were present for their father’s impending breakdown. 

“Get the fuck out of my house, Bradshaw.” This hadn’t been the first confrontation Jake and Bradley had gotten into while Bradley had been staying in Rhode Island as the Seresin kid’s personal live-in nanny. And it certainly wouldn’t be the last. It was becoming an almost everyday occurrence. The only difference this time was the kids were here to witness it. “I don’t need you here–”

“You aren’t thinking straight, just–how about the kids and I go for a walk or something and you sort yourself out? Have a shower? Shave? Drink something other than alcohol for–” Before Rooster could finish his sentence, Jake was placing Sam on the kitchen floor with a haste that didn’t sit right with Rooster. Lennox was the first to move from his chair. He was the spitting image of his father. 

“I don’t fucking care, Rooster!” Jake shouted at the top of his lungs. So loud and with such rage that the veins in his neck were popping as his skin turned a nice shade of ruby red. He took fast strides across the kitchen until Jake was standing toe to toe with his best friend. The very friend who’d been taking care of his children since before your passing. “I have to live the rest of my fucking live without the woman I love, so, cut me some godman slack before I knock your smug ass head from your shoulders.” 

Bradley didn’t move. He didn’t retaliate. He watched over Jake’s shoulder how his three children all cowered on the kitchen floor, scared of how their father yelled. Jake was oblivious to his surroundings. He couldn’t see the kids were struggling too. 

“Jake?” Bradley sighed as he placed his hands on either side of Jake’s face. “When the fuck are you gonna get through all this?” Braley asked softly as he remained calm. “When are you gonna wake up?” 

“Wake up?” Jake repeated as he pulled his face from his best friend's grip. “Wake up? Bradshaw, I died with my wife! There is no waking up from any of this!” 

“Maybe–” Bradley shrugged as he walked over to where the kids had been huddled together. It was only as Jake followed Bradley’s trajectory that he realised how much he’d scared his children. Something he never wanted to do. “There's always hope though.” 

“Kids,” Jake sighed as his tears began to fall. He dropped to his knees right then and there in the kitchen he wasn't familiar with. In a house that was now cold and dark without your constant radiating light to keep it warm and bright. “Guys, I'm sorry, huh–Dad didn't mean to raise his voice, he’s just–” Before Jake could finish his sentence, little Lennox was finishing his father’s sentence for him. 

“You’re just sick, dad.” 

“What?” Jake frowned as the kids made their way over to where Jake was kneeling on the tiles. 

“I said you’re just sad, Dad,” Lennox replied once more as he gave his dad a hug. “We’ll take care of you.” 

************************

December 31st 

Jake Seresin tried his best to hide the wet tears that fell down his cheeks as he sat with his kids on the lounge of the home that he had tried his best to keep as tidy as he could. There was a lot of uncertainty, a lot of frustration, a lot of fear and unbelievable sadness that surrounded Jake and your three small children. The unknown was truly tragic, terrifying and treacherous, but Jake wasn’t about to let his kids see the way he so desperately wanted to cry. 

Things had changed since Jake fell mind, body and soul into an unimaginably deep hole of depression. So much so that days had become to feel like one long dream. A paradox of grief and manic love. Your mother had told Jake to feel every ounce of emotion he had locked away. Maz had told him that grief was just someone’s residual love with nowhere else to go. 

Once Jake was able to understand that the pain of losing you was his love for you, he understood why it hurt so deeply on a cellular level. He understood why it hurt to look at the children he’d created with you. He understood why the kids had wanted to sit and open the small, still-wrapped Christmas present Lenny had found in Jake’s bag when he was looking for his dad’s wallet. 

Because it was one of the last things you ever gifted someone. It was one of your last acts on earth. 

“What did Mum get you for Christmas, Daddy?” Jake held the small present in the palm of his hand, the present he had yet to open. The present he wasn’t sure he wanted to. It felt like something he’d held before, the weight felt all too familiar. It haunted him the more he carried it around, held it in the palm of his hand and contemplated the inevitable. 

“I dunno buddy, you reckon I should open it?” Jake asked as he kissed his son's head. “S’not Christmas anymore.” The Naval Aviator had recently shaved his head, it had been the closest to a number one he’d ever had. It was in solidarity, union. A decision he made in the blink of an eye but one he did not regent or ever would. 

“We haven’t taken the tree down yet,” Lucy added her two cents into the conversation as she laid her head on her father’s thigh. “Mum would be upset if you didn’t open it, Dad.” Jake knew that much was true, you probably would be pretty bent out of shape if he never opened it. 

“Alright, I’d better open it then huh?” Jake shook the small perfectly wrapped box he could hold in the palm of his hand. He heard what sounded like a rock rattle inside. His heart nearly exploded inside his chest. 

Fuck….Jake knew what it was and he really didn’t want to open it. 

“Hey, Dad?” Lucy’s voice sounded completely different to anything Jake had ever heard before. She was looking right at him yet her eyes were trained on something one hundred miles away. 

“Yeah, sweetheart?” Jake replied just as he was about to open the present you’d given him before his life was turned upside down. 

“You need to wake up now,” Lucy’s voice sounded familiar, but it wasn’t her own. “You’ve had enough time here,” 

“What are you talking about Lu?” Jake frowned as he looked at his daughter. An extension of himself and you. “Lucy? Are you feeling okay?” 

“You’ll be a good dad soon,” Lucy smiled as she unwrapped the small ring box in Jake’s hand. The ring box that held what Jake assumed to be your engagement ring. But as little Lucy opened the wrapping, a blinding light burst through the cracks. A light so bright it forced Jake to squint. 

“Please wake up, honey,” Jake heard your voice clear as day as Lucy opened the ring box to send a piercing white light into the living room. Jake was completely captured by the light around him. So much so the entire room was drowned in a light so pure it was crystal clear. He couldn’t see a single thing beyond the all-encompassing white. 

“Please wake up for us,” again your voice was the only thing Jake could hear in the void he found himself in. 

“Y/n?” Jake called out into the void around him. He could feel his ribcage breaking like he couldn't breathe. Every breath he took was agony. “Hello?” Yet he could hear your voice. A voice he longed for. A voice he had to get back to. Jake had to get to you. 

“I’m here, you’re alright,” Jake once again heard your angelic siren song. His head began to throb. The feeling was agonising. Like there was no more room for swelling. 

“Where are you?” Jake called out as he stumbled in the light. The smell of burning flesh mixed with jet fuel overcame Jake’s senses. His need to get to you was more powerful than the deep bone ache he could feel in his legs. There was nothing on earth or beyond that would stop Jake from getting to wherever the hell you were calling him from. His entire body ached with a pain so unimaginable it sent him to his knees. Crawling, Jake cried out for you just one more time. 

“Y/n!?” Jake called out once more in a desperate attempt to find you in the void. “Kids?” 

“Here he comes,” Bradley’s voice echoed out as Jake looked up towards where he assumed the sky would be. The glare was too much. Jake placed his forearms over his forehead to soften the brightness. “Come on Hangman, don't leave us out to dry.” 

Some people spend their whole lives trying to make a dream come true. They set a goal and make a plan on how to achieve it. It works for some people. But for others, it’s not so easy. As hard as they work toward the dream, it can feel like the whole world has plotted against them. 

As someone gets further and further away from the dream, people begin to cling to any sign of hope. And the longer it takes and the more it costs…you start to consider whether you should give up. Do you find a new dream? Or do you stick to the one that started you on this journey in the first place? 

For Jake, things weren’t as black and white. 

As Jake closed his eyes and took one painful last breath in, he felt as if he’d fallen from cloud nine. When he opened his eyes, the light was still there….But he wasn’t.

Jake’s eyelids fluttered, the faintest hint of light creeping through the haze of his mind. He tried to move, but his body felt foreign as if it wasn’t entirely his own. The weight of unconsciousness clung to him, reluctant to release its hold. Slowly, he became aware of the sounds around him—

“Jake, It’s me, can you hear me?”

**********************

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[tuesdayaddamss]

join the murder; happy lowman.

part i. history in the making

summary: the sons make a decision that will change the fate of their club.

warnings: misogyny, language.

author’s note: since sins of the father didn’t get updated today like i said it would, here’s this one :,)

word count: 2898

DAY ONE.

“have you lost your goddamn mind?” to jax’s credit, he doesn’t even flinch at the cutting edge in bobby’s tone, though a lesser man would’ve wilted. it’s impressive, happy can admit, how eerily calm he is in the face of his brothers’ scrutiny. there aren’t many who can stand so tall when put under so much pressure.

not for the first time, their table is divided. split clean in two, it seems, with half of them appalled at the mere thought of what their president is proposing, and the rest, like him, that are, at least, willing to listen. happy can understand their trepidation, the borderline horror. spitting in the face of decades’ of tradition and hard-earned stereotyping isn’t an easy pill to swallow, even for him, but change is as inevitable as it is imminent. and now, with how things have been going for them recently, it’s necessary.

jax believes that if they don’t learn how to ride the tide, the world will move on without them. and happy believes in jackson teller, if in nothing else.

the blonde man at the head of the table smiles, confident and unperturbed. for once, he doesn’t scream to be heard. he doesn’t puff out his chest or gnash his teeth. it’s an assuredness that he has been lacking for a long, long while. “we’ve spent the last forty-five years in this box, brother. it’s startin’ to get a little claustrophobic.”

“so you wanna put a gash in a kutte?” opie chimes in, his face contorted with incredulity, though he’s significantly less hostile than some are being. “what the hell will that do, except give us all a headache?” piney grunts his agreement, scowling as if jax had just suggested assassinating the united states’ president.

“it proves that we can change for the better,” chibs, always raring to defend his jackie-boy, and to advocate for the underdog, steps to the plate. “that we’re more than murderers and criminals. that there’s a point to all of this.”

really, they all have their reasons for being here. for some, like him and the scot, the reaper had saved their lives. opie and jax were born with samcro in their blood. piney, tig, and bobby have been wearing the patch for so long that it’s all they are. and juice, like so many of the prospects that darken their doorstep, had come looking for a family.

that’s what it’s supposed to be about. the brotherhood. living, dying, and killing for the family that they choose. if this girl can, is willing to, do that, happy doesn’t see why they wouldn’t give her a fighting chance.

“oh, c’mon!” frankly, tig’s the last person that should be protesting this. the man broke a hundred unspoken rules when he’d claimed venus van dam, a transgender prostitute, as his ol’ lady. he’s an ornery hypocrite, happy thinks. “almost fifty years, and we have never had a chick patch into any charter, let alone the mother charter. if we do this, it’s gonna cause a goddamn revolt, man.”

as if reading his mind, juice chomps at the bit in a rare display of boldness. “yeah, we never had a venus making us sunday brunch, either.” the withering glare that tig gives him across the table would’ve sent a lesser man to the grave, but the boy holds fast. “no disrespect, i love vee just as much as everyone else, but it ain’t the 70’s no-more. times are changing.”

“this is a charter decision.” jax intervenes, before the two of them can start swinging. “the others can bitch and moan as much as they’d like, but this comes down to us.”

jax would need a unanimous vote to take anyone, especially a woman, on as a prospect, with or without the other charters’ approval. and right now, it doesn’t look like he’s going to get his wish.

“we’re the sons of anarchy! sons!” tig flails his arms so violently that he nearly topples out of his chair, one of his ringed hands clipping happy in the shoulder like an excited child. “back me up, hap!”

all eyes turn to him, and he has to try hard not to bristle. he shrugs noncommittally, acting less bothered than he is, and looks to jax. “can she ride?”

he nods, brows raised, as if surprised that his sergeant at arms is humoring him at all. “can she fight?”

jax grins, like he’d said something funny, and happy figures that it has to do with his suspiciously black eye. “yeah. yeah, she can fight.”

“if she can do that, and if you trust her, i say give it a shot.” tig looks positively mortified, and jax glows with pride. happy merely leans back in his chair and ignores the looks he’s now receiving from both sides of the table. some betrayed, some bewildered.

“just listen,” jax presses his palms to the table, silencing any further protests or arguing before it can even begin. in this moment, he looks so much like the man that he used to be, that it hurts a little bit. the man he was before his baby had been born with his insides outside, before the truth had been told, before his stepfather had betrayed him, and then done it again, and again. before the gavel had corrupted him.

“she has what it takes, i’ve seen it. kitty will be good for this club, for all of us,” he meets each of their eyes in turn, as if willing them to bear the weight of his words. “all i’m asking is that you just give her a chance. no special treatment ‘cause she’s a chick. just another prospect, yeah? she gets a year of probation, proves herself, and then you can decide if i’m fuckin’ nuts. but, i swear to you, she will prove herself.” she has to, for jax’s sake, lest she makes a fool out of him and all of them.

it’s rare to see him so passionate about anything, about anyone, but his vehemence certainly gets their attention. in this room, his word is gospel and law, all in one. when he speaks, they listen. even piney, as set in his ways as he is, falters.

happy pictures the girl waiting outside of the soundproofed doors. she wasn’t anything all that impressive, from what he’d seen — young, scrappy, not anything he could see jax going to war for. and yet, here he is, nearly blue in the face whilst he argues her case. though that in itself is impressive, really, because his favor isn’t easy to earn, and she’d done that and then some.

“where’d you even find this kid?” happy’s raspy voice cuts through the pregnant silence like a bullet, and jax’s smile splits his face from ear to ear, like a little boy on christmas morning.

“she stole my wallet.” he seems abundantly proud of it, though most men would be thoroughly humiliated if they were bested by a girl that’s no more than a hundred pounds soaking wet. you wouldn’t have been able to waterboard that information out of happy. “and then, when i chased her down and tried to get it back, she punched me in the face.” and it just gets better and better. happy’s starting to like this kitty.

anyone that was bold enough to steal from and assault a son had to have balls made of steel. especially from the goddamn president.

“what’s gemma make of it?” jax’s eyes narrow into slits at bobby’s not-so-subtle jab, that anger that they all know and love rearing its head. as much as they all love their matriarch, she could be just as old school as piney is. she’s an opinionated woman, and she likes to make sure that those opinions are known.

“it doesn’t fuckin’ matter what gemma thinks,” he retorts, spitting his mother’s name as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. they must be on the outs again; it’s hard to keep up. “is she sittin’ at this table? no. you don’t ride, you don’t vote.”

the treasurer raises his hands in a show of mock surrender. “just wondering, brother.” they all know how gemma feels about it. or rather, how she will feel about it, since she probably has no clue that it’s happening at all. jax has a tendency to leave her out of the loop.

but he’s right. the women have never had any right, nor reason, to have any say in the club’s decisions. gemma’s only as involved as she is because she’s played ol’ lady to two presidents, and mother to another. the rest of them are kept in the loop merely because they’re loved.

but this would change everything. a woman, sitting at their table, wearing their reaper, standing and fighting with them, having a vote. that is, of course, if she can survive the prospect year. he had witnessed countless men run for the hills after their first two weeks onsite. they’d even had to bury one, once, after he’d intentionally overdosed in the tacoma clubhouse’s bathroom. and it was bound to be even worse for kitty — prospects are at the very bottom of samcro’s food chain as is, treated like dirt in order to ready them, toughen them up, for the life that they’ve signed up for.

she’ll be shoved around and prodded at tenfold the rest of them. and she’ll have to work thrice as hard to prove herself. and that’s just within the club, not even to mention the abuse she’ll be getting from those outside of it. good luck, happy thinks. god knows that she’s going to need it.

jax smacks his palm on the table, drawing them in. “let’s vote it. all in favor of taking kitty on as a prospect?”

“aye!” chibs cheers, his grin mirroring the scars on his cheeks. despite being one of the oldest, and having been with the club for decades, he’s maybe the most progressive. married a black woman, fathered a black baby, and now sticking his neck out for this girl’s sake. he must have been a mama’s boy in his youth — and happy, more than anyone, can respect that.

bobby sighs, staring at the blonde for a long moment, before finally nodding, albeit reluctantly. “aye.” he may be old, cranky, and misogynistic, but he trusts jax enough to set all of that aside.

and opie’s much the same. he’d do anything for the man he’d grown up with, even this. “aye.”

juice beams, eager. “aye.” he had been the victim of their wicked club bylaws, himself. almost thrown out, and nearly forced to turn rat, because his father was black. he’s the last person that would advocate against change.

piney’s the toughest to crack, and happy’s sure that jax had considered this before bringing nic to the table. the old man is huffing and puffing in his chair like he might blow a little pig’s house right down, jaw clenched and fists curled. as one of the first nine, he’d been present when their rulebook was written. he’d been one of the men to vote yes to the ‘no women’ rule. he’s a proud member, and founder, of the she-man-woman-haters club.

but he’s also the one that’s always preaching about what john teller would’ve wanted, about what samcro can, and should, be. and they all know that if jax’s father was here today, he’d be all over this, much like his son is. “aye.” piney grunts. happy sees the thinly veiled relief in jax’s eyes.

it doesn’t take a telepath to know what tig’s thinking, to realize that juice’s words had hit home for the man. if he voted nay, and venus found out, she’d beat him over the head with her gucci purse, and have him sleeping on the couch for a month, minimum. and as many screws as tig trager has loose, he loves his woman, so much so that it’s nauseating, and he’d never blatantly do anything to offend her. “aye.”

“aye.” happy agrees, without hesitation. frankly, he doesn’t give a fuck what she has in her pants, as long as she has what it takes. jax seems to think she does, and he’s never given them a reason to doubt his judgement — well, maybe once or twice, but that’s besides the point.

“aye!” jax slams the gavel down. and just like that, kitty foster has an in. but whilst they’ve voted in her favor, happy knows that it doesn’t mean they’ll act in it. “bring her in.”

chibs jumps to his feet, all joy and humor draining from his face in a split second, just to make her squirm. he shoves the doors open, his voice bellowing through the chapel and the bar, his heavy scottish brogue ricocheting off the walls. “move it, lass! we ain’t got all fuckin’ day!”

kitty appears in the threshold, giving him a wary look as he shoves her unceremoniously in front of the table, though happy can admire how unbothered she seems by the harsh glares she receives from each of them; some genuine, some falsified. if it is a front that she’s putting on, it’s foolproof enough that not even he can see through it.

when he’d first noticed her sitting at the bar, he hadn’t spared her a second glance, not knowing who she was until jax had called church. now, though, he takes the time to look at her. like he’d originally thought, there’s not much about her that stands out; she’s tall, skinny, with a seemingly permanent frown on her face, and a ghostly sort’ve look about her — as if she had never known comfort a day in her life. she’s pretty enough though, he could admit; with pale, untamed curls, and a nice face, though rather guant and severe. he wouldn’t group her in with their croweaters or the caracara girls, but he figures that she gets plenty of attention.

what the fuck she possibly wants to do with a motorcycle club, he can’t even begin to imagine.

tig takes the initiative, starting without prologue, sneering at the girl as if personally offended by her very presence in the chapel. “probationary period lasts one year, minimum, and starts today. after that, if you last that long, we vote whether or not to patch you in.”

“dues are seventy-five dollars on the first of every month,” bobby chimes in. “you don’t pay, you don’t stay.”

she nods along silently, eyes narrowed and jaw ticking, though she seems more contemplative than aggressive.

jax stands then, picking up the kutte, donned with prospect patches, that he’d flung on the table oh-so dramatically when he’d called church. it’s small, suited to a woman, which meant that he’d been planning this for at least a few days if he’d gone and found colors in her size. awfully bold of him, happy thinks, though he chooses not to comment on it. he won’t claim to understand just how the younger man’s mind works.

he shoves the leather into kitty’s hands, and none of the brothers are oblivious to the wordless something that passes between them. “don’t fuck this up.” is all he says, but his tone is heavy.

the look she gives him is as sharp as a knife, somewhere in between amused and incredulous. whatever had happened with them, beyond the petty theft and battery, had been no small thing. they can all see it.

“don’t worry, prez,” she drawls, two parts mocking and one part wicked. it’s the first time happy, or anyone save for jax, has heard her speak. her accent is as thick as molasses, dripping from her tongue like honey. happy assumes that the southern twang had done her quite a few favors in her life. “i’ll make you proud.”

jax scoffs, but his lip twitches into an almost-smile. “put it on.” he orders, and they all hold their breath.

she slings the brand new leather over her back, their reaper coming to rest gently on her toned shoulders. it suits her, even happy has to admit. if the gleam in jax’s eye is anything to go off of, he agrees.

happy braves a glance at his brothers, all of them wearing varying expressions; some, hopeful, and others, bitter. he meets juice’s eye, and the puerto rican grins so hard that he figures it has to hurt his cheeks.

she’s looking at them too, he notices, sizing each of them up in turn. her eyes meet his for half of a second, searching within him for something — animosity, like tig, or approval, like chibs — but happy remains stoic, his facade impenetrable after all of the years he’s spent perfecting it. he thinks that she seems almost amused, as if humored by so many grown men being so very threatened by a chick.

and that’s exactly what they are; piney, opie, bobby, tig. they feel threatened by this woman, and what she will mean for samcro. they’re terrified of what changes her presence here will catalyze.

jax slaps her on the shoulder, looking immensely proud of himself. “welcome to samcro,”

godspeed, happy bids silently, hoping that she’s more than meets the eye — lest his brothers chew her up and spit her out.

but something tells him that they’d only break their teeth if they tried.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Steadfast 8

Warnings: non/dubcon, power imbalance, obsession, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: King!Bucky Barnes (Medieval AU)

A Knights, Kings, and Knaves Story

Summary: you serve Duke Rogers, but when his friend, the king, takes an interest, you find your work in turmoil.

Note: I’ve wanted to do medieval drabbles for years. I bit the bullet and now we’re all doomed. I was torn on whether to make this one Stucky however… I think Steve deserves a wifey in his own installment.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

"T'Challa, how long has it been?" King Bucky greets the man with a hand on his shoulder. The mirror each other as they bow their heads.

"Too long," the hosting king proclaims. "Not since you last roved these plains and plucked that very tooth." King Bucky looks down at the chain, the wolf's fang dangling just beneath the vee of his tunic. "The white wolf returns."

"And now I come to you as a husband," Bucky grins. "Our road was long, I apologise for our delay."

"Oh, to see the lady before me, I cannot blame you for taking your time." King T'Challa offers his hand. "Your highness, I am honoured. Only the most brave woman would take on such a husband."

You put your hand in his, "your majesty. It is my honour."

"Ah, he found a sweet one," T'Challa snickers. "You are welcome here as your husband but do not let me keep you for I see he is an impatient man. I know it to be true."

You smile and glance at the king. As you drop your hand, he takes it in his.

"You are correct," he affirms. "So, where may this road-worn king lay his weary head?"

"Ha," T'Challa guffaws. "I'm certain that is your only desire."

With a gesture, a servant comes forward. They lead you away with your king. Your husband?

Down tremendous walkways and low lit corridors until a set of doors open before you. You hesitate at the threshold and King Bucky urges you through. As you are shut in, your nerves awaken. Alone, your fate is sealed.

"My wife," Bucky raises your hand and kisses it sloppily. "How long we've waited."

"My king," you face him. "Certainly, this cannot be."

"It is," his other hand goes to your waist.

"But... I am only a maid."

"Mm, not anymore."

"I am no noble--"

"So far as anyone who should ask, you are," he pulls you against him. You gasp. "I cannot resist fate when it stares me in the face."

"Fate?" You murmur.

"You, sweet pip. You are my fate. Why else should I be dragged so far across the world?"

"No, that... cannot be."

"You tell me no? Again?"

"No, er, your highness. I do not, I only..."

"You gave your vows as I did mine," he purrs and leans in until his nose touches yours. "And before the fates and gods, I must confess that I cannot wait any longer. I must have you as I've dreamt the long, long nights."

"Dreamt? Your highness."

"Yes, dreams most happy," his hand crawls along your hip. "Dreams of smoke in my nose, of fire in my loins." He scoops his hand under your bottom and squeezes. "You swore to serve me as wife as you did as maid. It will not be so different."

He tilts his head until his lips meet yours. You are speechless at his suddenness, at the hunger in his kiss. His other hand runs up your arm and he grips your chin. He holds you in place as his tongue delves into your mouth. You squeak as he growls into you.

He parts and rests his forehead against yours, "there is only one act left for us to forge our vows." He drops his hand from your chin and in an instant, it is across the other side of your rear. He lifts you so that you have no choice but to cling to him. You clasp onto his shoulders as your legs wrap around him. "You must taste of honey," he carries you across the floor. "And berries..." he nuzzles your cheek, "and citrus." He stumbles and stops with a snarl. "Surely better than anything of this earth."

He puts you down on the cushioned bench. You press your palms down to brace yourself. You stare at the king as he falls to his knees before you, his hands on your thighs as he inhales. His blue eyes darken as his cheek dimples with menace.

"Pip," he drawls as he rubs you through the silk, "shall I eat you up?"

Your eyes round and you put your hands on his. "My king."

"All yours," he attests.

"My king," you repeat and grasp two of his thick fingers. "Please.

"My wife, I must do as a husband must."

"Husband?" You garble.

"Mmm, say it again."

"Ah, er, husband, but I-- I--"

"Untouched but not unready," he breaks your hold as he curls his fingers to fists. He tugs up your skirts as you squeal. "I need you."

"My king."

"Husband," he insists.

"Oh, husband," you latch onto his wrist.

He tuts and chuckles. He sweeps your skirts up, once more freeing himself of your grasp, and he buries his head beneath the silk. He kisses your knee and you yelp. You kick out in shock as he drags his lips along your thigh. His hands follow as he kneads the tender flesh and keeps your knees open.

"My king," you bat him reflexively through the skirt.

His hot breath plumes along your pelvis and you shiver. You splay your fingers around the shape of his skull. He tilts and presses his lips to yours... the ones down there! You squirm and nearly fall back in shock.

His tongue flicks down the crease of your flesh and you twitch. He does it again, dipping between your folds, and you babble as you plant your hands on the bench to keep from folding over. You whine as he does it again and again and again.

Your stomach stirs and ties around itself. Deeper down, a flame sparks, glowing and burning hotter with each swirl of his tongue. You hiss as your toes curl.

"My king..." You moan.

He pauses and nuzzles your curly patch of hair, "husband..." he nips at your thigh, "call me husband."

[vettelsvee]

DON'T COMPARE YOURSELF TO OTHERS | Carlos Sainz

⋆ PAIRING: Carlos Sainz x Girlfriend!Reader ⋆ SUMMARY: Carlos is giving his everything to try being the best after his life changed by entering Williams, even that means his health might be at risk... and even when you try your best to support him every way possible ⋆ WORD COUNT: 929 ⋆ WARNINGS: Mental health issues, a bit angsty ⋆ VEE'S NOTES: Williams!Carlos fic to celebrate I got the Williams Meet & Greet with Carlos and Alex tomorrow and I'm nervous af. Hope you like this one even it's short and remember that if you liked it you can comment and reblog, and even make requests, since I'd appreciate it a lot! Thank you so much for reading! <3 Also we’re close to 2k followers so give me ideas for a fic event pls 🙏🏻 ↳ TALK TO ME/MAKE YOUR REQUESTS! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

Carlos woke up that Wednesday morning around six o'clock, excited to start his training even before having breakfast.

The next Grand Prix, in Imola, was the next one in the 2025 season, his newest one with Williams. After Ferrari decided it was the best to replace him with Lewis, he was lost; however, in the upcoming months after that abrupt decision, and especially after signing with his newest team, he really believed welcoming new beginnings was meant to be.

Now, after a few months into the season, doubt and overthinking were surrounding his head all the time.

The truth was, although he found it hard to admit, the past few days had been tough on him. He didn’t take care of himself like he should. He decided to train excessively, even more than what his coaches and specialists advised him to, leading to his body starting to feel the backlash: the muscle pain he was experiencing was immense, and his body was way more tired than usual.

However, that didn't make him stop. The comparisons on the internet with his newest teammate, Alex Albon, were killing him even he tried to stay as calm as possible. Carlos knew he still had to adapt to the team; that he was, actually, adapting to the team, but some comments from people that didn’t know the truth behind it all were that gross that all the Spanish could think about was not being good enough for Formula 1.

That, maybe, it was his time to say goodbye to the sport that not only gave him life, but also he gave his life for.

When he arrived at the gym, he found you, already training to be able to go to work in the upcoming hours.

"Hey, what's wrong?" 

You quickly approached him as soon as you saw him, gently touching his arm. You didn't like the tension you noticed on Carlos’ face, but at the same time, you didn't want to intrude on his thoughts because you knew how close, shy and, moreover, ashamed, he was with everything involving sharing his deepest worries.

"I'm fine," Carlos replied curtly, although you already know it wasn't true.

You knew something was wrong no matter how much the driver insisted otherwise, so that's why, without thinking about it too much, you took a step forward and decided it was best to address the problem (or at least, try to) once and for all, with your boyfriend:

"Listen, babe…" 

You began speaking softly, while trying to approach him the best way possible so that he didn’t treat you like he was used to every time he couldn’t face his problems in conversations with others.

"I think you're training too much, and it's affecting you, physically and mentally. I hope you realize that what you're doing is not going to help you achieve better results, no matter how much you insist otherwise," you continued. “You’re more than worth, and just keeping yourself busy trying to be the best, when you might not be able to…”

"You don't understand," Carlos interrupted you with frustration. "I need to train harder if I want to win."

You sighed, understanding him but, at the same time, getting more worried at his stubbornness.

"I'm aware of how much you want to do well for Williams, really, but you can't continue punishing yourself like this. You need to take a break and listen to what your body is telling you," you said gently.

Carlos felt a bit resentful, but he knew, deep down, you were more than right. Still, he couldn't help but feel bad about himself once again because, since the beginning of the new season, and even in the past one, he had been compared to his teammates.

He didn’t want to be compared with Charles or Alex. 

He just wanted people to talk about him, for the worse or for the better.

"Maybe you're right," he finally admitted. "But I feel like what I've been doing isn't enough to be on the same line with the rest of the grid."

You approached him and, delicately, placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You can't compare yourself to others, love. You are you, Carlos Sainz, and you have your own strengths and weaknesses. So, please… try your best to just ignore the journalists, okay? You know how they are and how much they like drama…"

Carlos pondered over your words and realized that his girlfriend was right: if he continued punishing his body like that, the consequences would be more severe than they were at that moment. And he didn’t want to miss another race like he did last season when he had appendicitis.

"Thank you for telling me what I don't want to hear," Carlos said, embracing you. "As much as you love me, if you didn't manage to make me see reason, to talk to me... I don't want to know what would have happened to my head more than my body, really. I should take a break, maybe creating a new training routine, but I should discuss it with..."

You smiled, listening carefully to your boyfriend as he talked about his plans to try to silence that impostor syndrome that was eating him alive, even admitting that he might seek even more psychological help than the one he already had to manage himself better.

"I'm here to support you in everything, Carlitos," you finally answer, a huge smile on your face. "You don't have to thank me for caring about you… for making you see how much you’re worth."

[bella-goths-wife]

What if the Vees accidentally killed Pet during one of their punishments? I know only angelic weapons can kill them, but this is a “What if” scenario. Maybe make them hellborn?

What if the Vees accidentally killed pet (not canon)

Warnings: usual abuse, violence, death, drug use, Vs don’t grieve normally at all, character deaths, descriptions of corpse

Vox:

If we’re using human logic that sinners can die instead of canon logic that sinners ain’t killed but are just temporarily gone unless angelic weapons are used, then we’ll assume that sinners can be killed in similar ways to humans but maybe higher power levels required to kill

With this logic in place, I think that Vox would probably accidentally kill you during a punishment out of his jealousy of yours and alastors past connection with alastor almost purchasing your soul before Vox

Most likely he’d be using his usual punishment method of using his electrical abilities and the soul deal the two of you have to send electric shocks down the soul chain

Only the jealousy would heighten the amount of electricity used and in this case would kill you

Vox wouldn’t notice you were dead for a good few hours, assuming it was one of your usual blackout spells that you usually got after electrical punishments

It’s only he tries to shock you awake and you don’t respond that he realises you’ve died

Voxs mind would be split into two halves

One half thinks about the fact that he’s murdered you, the person he views as his daughter and the person he wanted to keep hidden away and protected more than anything

The other thinks about how angry he is that you had the nerve to die, how dare you? You were meant to be a loyal pet and now you’ve abandoned him like this?

Vox holds your dead body close in his arms as he debates in his mind what he should do

He carries your corpse to your bedroom and lays you down in your bed and treats you almost childishly as he tucks you in and hums you a song

Your room would become your grave as the vs leave you in it to be able to visit your corpse in an attempt to deny that you’ve passed away all together

They’d leave your corpse to slowly decompose and wouldn’t let it deter them from visiting, even in death you weren’t gifted dignity

It’s only due to his powerful position within the vees that Vox is allowed to live after killing you

Valentino and velvette still hold resentment though and have many plans to overthrow him and change the power dynamics

Valentino:

Valentino would have probably been most likely to kill you during a drugging punishment

He would have miscalculated the amount he gave you, causing you to overdose painfully

His first thoughts would be how to cover up your death so that no one knows it was him, selfish as ever

He grieves in his own way I suppose

He was never really obsessed with you as a person like the other two were, he was obsessed with the forbidden aspect of you and your emotional reactions and he more so grieves the loss of those two pleasures rather than grieve you as a person

He’d make quick work of having your body disposed of, paying some lower level demons to hide it away somewhere before killing them after your body’s gone

If your body was ever discovered, he’d instantly set it up to make it seem like Alastor was the one to kill you by desecrating your corpse to match alastors other victims, an act that had him feeling a small amount of guilt but it was quickly washed away by the need to cover his own back

He knows that fuelling voxs hatred of alastor would have him distracted enough to never find out the truth

He can’t help but feel small amounts of guilt for how your death effects velvette and Vox though, with both of them being anger filled bitter people

They both notice how he’s more attentive to them during this time but brush it off

If it were ever discovered that Valentino was the one who murdered you, Vox would kill him

It would take some internal debate considering Valentino is his lover, but his obsession for you outweighs his care for Valentino

Granted Valentino’s death would be quicker then your own, which is quite ironic really

Even In death you were still lesser than him

Velvette:

Velvette would accidentally kill you by taking it too far in a beating and pushing you down only for you to break your neck on some furniture

Velvette is not a feelings person, but I believe her killing you could make her feel so much so soon that she just shuts it down completely

She’ll push the idea of your death so far down within herself that she’ll convince herself that your still alive

She’ll be so far in denial that she’ll even think she hears your voice talking to her

She’ll carry your body around with her, dressing you up like a doll and doing makeup on your decomposed corpse to make it look less noticeable

She’ll take you everywhere with her, talking to you as if you were still alive and even scolding you when she thinks your ‘ignoring her’

Of course Vox and Valentino notice very quickly

Vox is outraged that she’s killed you, Valentino not so much but still relatively angry

But then they notice how velvette had driven herself mad in her guilt and grief

When confronted and forced into acknowledging the truth, velvette would break as she’d clutch your body and sob angry tears

Vox and Valentino decide that she has to die

Partly out of revenge for you, but also partly to put her out of her madness and misery

Velvette would be killed quickly while clutching your body and what’s left of the vees would put the two of you in your room and treat it as your graves

This was a depressing one to make ngl 😭

This is deffo not my best work but oh well