#not making excuses for her but it’s just proving that even with the best intentions capitalism corrupts

[7-oh-ta1]

When I see ppl hating on king rhoam i start blacking out and seeing visions

[hotchfiles]

instead of hotch being protective what about bau!girly standing her ground when a reporter flirts with her man

You knew better than to be jealous. Aaron was more than loyal to you, more than faithful, to betray, to cheat, those were not things even in his vocabulary, definitely not in his moral code. But the thing is, you weren't jealous, you were baffled, to say the least. Just before the press conference the woman you had your eyes fiercely glued on right now saw Aaron gripping on your waist and placing a kiss on your forehead as you wished him good luck. She knew.

She knew very well she wasn't flirting with a single man, and she proved it every time she touched his arm after the cameras shut off, her eyes betraying her as she looked at you for few seconds at a time.

Aaron had already told her he was busy and needed to leave, but she was insisting on keeping the one sided conversation going, taking advantage of his politeness and the fact he couldn't be rude to news reporters, he couldn't misrepresent the FBI.

Luckily. Or unluckily for him, he decided to date someone not as preoccupied with the Bureau's image, so after the second time he tried to leave and the reporter held him by the wrist, you stepped in, gently taking her hand from him.

"For a news reporter you're really slow on catching on, huh?" Your voice and the smile you gave her sickly sweet, Aaron giving you his best I'm still your boss do not do this look, even if he knew you well enough to see it was a lost cause.

"Excuse me!?" Her eyes finally gave attention to anyone else rather than Hotchner, giving you her best offended expression. It was pitiful, to try and conceal her true intentions from an experienced profiler, really.

"Sweetie, this man is not interested in you. And we have a job to do here, so get off of him, will ya? Jesus." You shook your head at her, not giving her time to try anything else, pulling Aaron with you by the end of the sleeve of his blazer.

In other occasions he might have apologized for your behavior, but he was indeed bothered and he wanted to leave just as much as you wanted to take him out of there. It was nice to be the protected one at times. And it was cute to see you jealous.

"What about the whole too mature to be jealous talk we had months ago?" he teases you, hugging you sideways.

"Hotchner, don't try me, I could've arrested her, I was completely sane and controlled." You glanced up to him, met with his very known smile, lips lightly turned as he shook his head at you.

"Arrested her in what grounds!?"

"Trespassing federal property! I'm a federal agent and she was touching my property!" You're obviously making fun of the situation now, but your face looks dead serious and you're using your most threatening voice tone.

"Terrible, awful, jealous thing you." Aaron laughs and you mock his list of adjectives directed at you, he opens the door of the SUV so you can get on the passenger seat, and he puts the seat belt on you, kissing you tenderly right after. "I love you."

"Love you too."

[leaentries]

Red | jack hughes

backstory - next

summary: when jack meets a bombshell of a girl, his life is bound to change.

warnings: swearing, lil bit of arrogant jack

wc: 2k+

a/n: welcome to my new series! this will follow jack and red as they navigate through the ins and outs of new love. if you have any requests or thoughts regarding jack and red, please send them in!

His world was flipped the second he met her. His Red.

Live chattering filled the dimly lit bar, as a certain chill settled in the cracks of the wooden walls. Winter did not come to play this time of year. The howling wind could still be heard over the loud voices in the room. With every creak of the front door, more frigid air rushed in, gripping whoever was near. 

Bright noses and ears scattered about the patrons, who eagerly down their alcohol in an attempt to warm up the frosted bones beneath. The old dinky clock on the back wall lamely rang as the time hit the hour. It was officially the next day, yet Jack and his team still swarmed the back left corner of the room. 

Joy was very evident to whoever gazed upon the mass of hockey players, or anyone who paid any attention to the TVs in the room. The New Jersey Devils had just won their best game thus far, winning by a complete shutout against their rivals. To say they were pumped would be an understatement. 

Strong bodies and their accompanied ladies made their way to the dance floor, leaving behind the select bachelors of the bunch. Although adrenaline still coursed through his veins and he was still riding the high of winning, Jack couldn’t help but watch as his teammates celebrated with their partners. 

The lowly sound of Nico and Dawson’s conversation echoed in and out of Jack’s ears. Now, Jack knew, regardless of how shallow it seemed, that he could easily have his choice of bunny to dance with. Truth be told, he had begun to grow tired of hooking up with random girls every weekend. 

Jack craved something deeper. He craved something real. So, there he sat, in the back booth with a beer in his hand, secretly wishing he had his own girl by his side. 

❥.

Another hour or so had passed, the clock now reading 1:15 a.m., yet the team seemed to have every intention of shutting the place down. Another round of shots was brought to the table, courtesy of Erik, causing a new rise of cheers to be heard. Jack jumped slightly, as Dawson shoved a small glass of brown liquid into his hand. 

“C’mon, man! What’s up with you?” Dawson questioned as he noticed Jack staring into the glass. Jack was quick to plaster a small, but convincing smile on his face. 

“Nothing. I’m all good, just a bit tired after the game, that’s all.” Dawson looked skeptical and opened his mouth to say something, but was quickly cut off as Jack swiftly drank the potent liquid. 

“Atta boy, JackJack!” Dawson’s attention moved away from Jack as Luke showed him something on his phone. 

A deep sigh left Jack’s throat, easing the burning sensation. His eyes traveled around the bar, this time noting that they seemed to be the last ones left. He wanted to go home, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave as he saw how happy his team looked. 

Jack excused himself from the table, opting to go recoup in the bathroom for a few peaceful moments. Making his way towards the other side of the bar proved to be more difficult when he had drunk hockey players flinging themselves as he passed. Jack continued his way through, ignoring all of the concerned looks he got as he pushed his friends off.

He picked up his pace, practically slamming the bathroom door closed once he was inside. He let his hands rest on the sink as he attempted to even out his breathing. Jack wasn’t even completely sure why he was freaking out in the first place. It’s not like he has to be single, he has lines of women at his beck and call. 

But, there is something different about the emptiness in his chest that he just can’t seem to shake tonight. Jack turned on the faucet, gently patting his face with some cool water to help dissipate the redness covering his cheeks and neck. 

He reached over to grab a paper towel when the door slammed open. Jack turned around abruptly, clearly startled by the sudden intrusion. But what caught him off guard the most was, not the interruption, but the fact that it was a girl. In the men's bathroom. 

“Excuse me?” Jack exclaimed, visibly irritated by the girl. The girl's eyes widened, before stepping back to look at the sign on the door.

“Oh shit!” She met Jack’s eyes with an awkward laugh, “Apparently this isn’t the women's bathroom.” 

Jack rolled his eyes, “Great observation there, genius.” 

The girl raised her eyebrows in surprise at his snappy tone. She understood her mistake, but that did not give him a reason to be rude. Before saying anything, she took into account who he was. Not that it mattered, but she did not want to start beef with Jack Hughes. 

She remained silent, her lack of response egging Jack on. 

“Look, I get it. You’re a fan, but I’m trying to have some privacy. The least you could do is respect that. You didn’t have to barge into the bathroom just to see me.” 

Oh hell no. 

It occurred in that moment, that she no longer cared who he was. The arrogance melted in waves off of him and she needed to snuff that out real fast.

“I don’t know who the hell you think you’re talking to, but it sure ain’t me.”

Jack was taken aback by her rebuttal, not failing to note the southern twang in her voice. He then realized how insanely attractive the fuming girl was. Her flaming ginger hair fell in waves down her back, which provided a stark contrast to her bright green eyes. They were big and round, yet held so much fire. Her nose was small, yet curved up slightly, creating a slope. Jack found himself wanting to trace his fingers down it. 

He was snapped back into reality as her vibrant red lips opened once more. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I know who you are, Jack Hughes,” She mimicked, “But If I wanted to see your dick that bad, I’d have no problem getting you in my bed.” 

Jack scoffed, “Oh is that so?”

She took a few steps forward.

“It’s no secret you get around Jack,” She brought her hands around his shoulders, “Your dick is more famous than you at this point.” 

Jack would be lying if he denied the jolt that his cock made at her comment.

“You know, Red, you shouldn’t talk about my dick if you don’t plan on giving it attention.” Jack wasn’t sure what changed his mood, possibly the most sexy woman he had ever seen talking about his cock. Maybe a hookup wouldn’t be the worst thing to come of the night.

A wicked grin found its way to her full lips as she brought them to his right ear. Her body pressed against his deliciously. With a low whisper, she replied, “Like hell.” 

She pulled away quickly stepping back. Jack frowned at the loss of her warm body. His eyes gleamed longingly at the door as she made her way out without a second glance at him. 

Jack was left by himself once more, this time with a painful hard-on and thoughts of his mystery girl. 

❥.

Once he calmed himself down, Jack left the bathroom and began to make his way back to his team. He was about halfway through the building when a streak of red hair caught the corner of his eye. He turned to see her sitting at a bartop, engrossed in her laptop that sat in front of her. 

Jack acted on a whim and decided he wanted, no needed, to figure this girl out. He walked up to the bartop, sliding into the seat beside her. 

She didn’t even bother to look up, “Look Bubba, go find somewhere else to sit. I am very clearly busy.” She barked. Jack chuckled at her response. 

“Wow, Red, you’re very feisty this evening.” The girl snapped her head up, meeting Jack’s icy blue ones. She let out a huff, shaking her head slightly. 

“What? You decided to grace the common folk with your godly presence, Jacky?” She gave him a pointed look before continuing, “Also, don’t call me Red. I have a name, you know.”

“You haven’t given it.”

“You haven’t asked.”

Jack smiled. The way she manages to challenge everything he says is addicting and he wants more.

“Alright then, what’s your name?” Jack questioned, quirking his head to the side. Boy, was he more than happy to play her game. 

“Y/n.” 

“Nah, I still prefer Red.” 

Y/n rolled her eyes, opting to turn her focus back to her computer. Jack’s eyebrows furrowed at the lack of attention she gave. 

“Am I not entertaining enough for you, Red?” 

She looked back up from her project, turning to him. “Look, Jacky, I already told you in the bathroom, I’m not looking to hook up with you. Nor do I want to,” She sucked in a breath, “Now if you don’t mind, I’m trying to focus on my article.”

Jack did not like the idea of giving up, so he let his curiosity get the better of him. He turned her laptop towards him, provoking protest from the red-haired girl. He was taken by surprise at the title:

A backtrack on the Devil's season: Did Jack Hughes save the team?

Jack couldn’t help but smirk, his ego rising a few notches. 

“Writing articles about me, huh? I gotta be honest with ya, Red. With the way you’ve been arguing all night, I never would have guessed you were my biggest fan.”

Y/n scoffed, a bewildered look on her face. “Ha! That’s rich.” She tugged her laptop back, “I was given this assignment, I would never write about you willingly. You’re a good player Jacky, but some of your other teammates deserve the hype too. All the major networks are too busy fawning over you, that they miss what contributions are being made by the other players. Last time I checked, it’s not just Jack Hughes on the ice.” 

Even though she was complaining about him, he couldn’t help but cling to her every word. It was captivating, how passionate she got. Especially over something that Jack’s life revolved around. 

She continued, but was cut off by Jack, “I agree with you.” 

Y/n cocked her head, “You…agree with me?” Baffled would be an understatement. She assumed Jack would be flying, boasting about being the number one topic in the NHL right now. 

“Yes, I agree. My team is just as important, we wouldn’t be winning with just me. It’s a team effort and I think more people should be writing about that. Everyone on that ice is crucial to the game, so I appreciate you seeing that.”

Everything he said was true. He truly did believe that he would be nowhere without his team, they were his family. Y/n could see the tenderness in his eyes. Against her better wishes, she found it attractive how he cared for his team.

She shook away those thoughts, “Anyways, Jacky, I am super busy finishing this article, so…” She trailed off, hoping he would get the subtle hint. She would never let on that she was enjoying their conversation. 

Jack wasn’t blind to her attempts to get him to leave but refused to go without assuring him he’d see her again. 

“I could help you,” He offered. She gave him a questioning look.

“I mean, you seem to be struggling to come up with what to write about me. So, I can help you. You can ask me any questions you want…” 

She raised an eyebrow, sensing his wanting tone, “What’s the catch?” 

“Go on a date with me.” 

She almost immediately said no, but considered what this article could do for her career. Everyone in her network wanted to write about Jack Hughes, yet somehow she was the one who managed to get stuck with the assignment. Was she willing to put up with an entire date just for the chance to get new intel no one else had? 

Y/n had hoped not, but alas, she knew what she needed to do. 

“Fine,” Jack’s eyes lit up at her compliance, “Only one date, after that we split and never talk again.”

“You got it, Red.”

[gigabyte-flare]

There’s No Escape (Part 1)

Summary: You are going through a rather nasty breakup as you escape your ex-boyfriend’s apartment while he’s away on a top secret government assignment. You move to a completely new state in hopes he won’t find you. You clearly underestimated his determination because he has no intention of letting you go. 

Pairing: yandere!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Word Count: 1.1k (Next part should be longer! Wanted to get story building stuff out of the way before getting to the good stuff ;) )

If any of the warnings below trigger you, please kindly pass on this fic 

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life; if you feel this way, please go touch grass

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT OR I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL YEET YOU INTO THE GODDAMN SUN. Thank you!

Warnings (may not apply to all parts): Sex, gaslighting, swearing, stalking, acts of violence, blood, dubcon, kidnapping, pet names (baby, doll, angel, sweetheart, etc.), PTSD triggers, unprotected sex, forced breeding, daddy kink, manipulation, oral (m and f receiving), choking, overstimulation, knife play, gunplay. Long story short, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. More warnings may be added in the future

A/N: @dollrxst, @hxllfiredoll, @nexyswrites, @ghostkennedy, @lipglossanon and like a bunch of others who’s fics I’ve consumed and have been inspired by, this is all your fault and I’m not even mad about it. Please excuse grammatical errors and such, it’s been a hot second since I’ve written stuff like this. Enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was now or never.

Leon Scott Kennedy, your soon to be ex-boyfriend, is away on some top secret government assignment and isn’t due back for about three days. You had been seeing each other for about six months and he insisted you move in with him after three months. He seemed wonderful at first, but living with him proved to be way more than you had signed up for.

He was bat shit insane.

You weren’t sure if it was due to unaddressed trauma from his line of work or whatever but his controlling and sick nature was ludicrous to you. He was controlling, manipulative and sick in the head. His idea of fun was holding a knife to your throat while fucking the absolute shit out of you. That was just the tip of the iceberg on the things he forced you to do for his pleasure. 

Anything you absolutely could not live without was getting stuffed into your little Jeep Renegade. If it didn’t fit, it was getting left behind because you had absolutely no intention of coming back. Clothes, toiletries, some of your books, your video game console and games, a couple pillows and some sheets all got stuffed in. When you were confident you had everything essential for your impromptu move, you closed the back hatch on the Renegade and grabbed your purse, phone and car keys from the kitchen counter, making sure to leave the copy of the apartment key you miraculously found behind. You lock the apartment door and shut it. You lean up against it and take a deep breath before you rush back down to your car. You had a long ride ahead of you; Washington D.C. to Boston was about a 9 hour drive.

It was now or never; you weren’t about to squander this opportunity to escape.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

It was dark by the time you finally arrived in Boston. You navigate the confusing winding streets and find your apartment that you got with your best friend, Becky. You see her come out of the front door as you pull up in your car and park. You see her wave as you step out.

“Hey, you made it! I trust you had a good ride,” she inquires.

“Yeah, long as hell, sorry I’m so late. What time is it?”

“It’s like 9:30, come on in! I ordered pizza for us,” she says, motioning you in. 

You grab your purse, keys, phone and one of the pillows you had stuffed into your car and go inside the apartment. You decide you can unload your stuff in the morning. The kitchen is the first room you end up in and you set your stuff down on the small island before stumbling your tired legs into the living room where the smell of pizza was calling your name. You practically collapse in a reclining chair after grabbing a slice of pizza from the box on the coffee table. You let out a loud sigh of relief. You made it. You escaped.

“How are you feeling?” Becky asks before taking a bite out of her slice of pizza.

You finish chewing on yours and swallow hard, “I’ve never been so happy in my life. I’m honestly surprised I’m not dead from some of the bullshit Leon pulled.”

Becky shifts nervously on the couch. She was the only person you confided in about your sick, demented ex-boyfriend. You didn’t even tell your parents, you didn’t want to worry them. 

When you moved in with Leon, he forced you to quit your well paying I.T. job and forbade you from ever leaving the apartment alone. He took your phone away, but you found ways to sneak it back so that you could at least contact Becky. You didn’t want to think about the things he made you do; it was an absolute miracle you weren’t dead or pregnant from the amount of abuse you endured. 

“He hasn’t contacted you yet, has he?” 

You shake your head, closing your eyes as you lean back in the recliner, “nah, he won’t be back from whatever assignment he’s on for another few days, and I blocked his number.”

“Good,” Becky replies with a nod.

“I’m going to hit the sack,” you say suddenly as you get up from the chair and begin to walk back into the kitchen to collect your stuff. 

“No problem, I’ll help you unload your car tomorrow. I was able to get the day off from work.”

“Thanks, Becky.”

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

It’s late in the afternoon when Leon finally gets home from his excursion, his forearms covered in scraps and bruises. He couldn’t wait to see his baby girl, his cock growing hard from the anticipation. 

He fumbled with his keys in the low light until finding the correct one to unlock the front door to the apartment. He unlocks the door and opens it.

“Sweetheart, I’m home!” Leon calls out.

But there’s no response.

“Sweetie? Are you asleep?”

Nothing.

Leon could feel adrenaline rush through his veins as he starts to frantically search each room for his sweetheart. He became hyper aware of the dead silence of the apartment the further he searched. When he got to the bedroom, he ripped the closet doors open and found most of your clothes were gone. He ran into the bathroom; your toiletries were gone. Almost all your belongings were gone.

“No, no, no, no, nO, NO, NO!”

Where could you have gone? He never in a million dreams imagined you would ever leave him. You belonged to him. You were his everything. Everything he did, he did it for you, he did it to keep you safe from the disgusting world. Pure rage began to flow through him as he stalked back into the kitchen. Unsheathing his knife, he stabbed it into the center of the small dining table before he used both hands to flip it, letting out a primal growl as he did so. 

“That fucking ungrateful bitch!” he growls before walking over to the overturned table to retrieve his knife. 

“I loved you, took care of you, protected you… and this is the thanks I get…”

He pulls out his cellphone, dialing your number and putting the phone to his ear.

“We’re sorry, the number you have dialed cannot be reached at this time. Please check the number and try again.”

Taking a deep breath, he then attempts to send a text to the number.

We’re sorry, the number you have entered is not valid.

Breathing heavily, he puts his phone back in his pocket, balling both his fists and closing his cobalt eyes. He stood there for a moment, seething when he suddenly appeared to have a revelation. His eyes snap back open and he digs his phone back out from his pocket and opens an app. A smile slowly overcomes him as stares down at the phone like he was staring down at a long lost lover.

“There you are. Don’t worry baby girl. Daddy’s coming to get you.”

Part 2

[missmarveledsblog]

The one ( Bucky barnes x reader odindotter)

summary : just the grumpy teddy bear bucky pinning after thor sister that's been there through everything  

warning: none , Bucky being a cutie , John walker being an ass , sam being the best wing man , mutual pining

One person , one singular person was all he wanted to see after it all . after the blip , the war against the mad tyrant and yet he was now staring at the face of a man he loathed , one who didn't deserve to hold the shield his best friend and brother had for a century. John walker stood an ego based attention hog who had the wrong morals and ideal that steve would generally cringe at . even with all this their was one person that occupied his mind , one that could truly make sense of all the craziness that he was now landed in. He walked as johns chest puffed out appearing to make himself so much bigger that he was , the words spilling from his mouth all bullshit and that thing he pass of as charm well a bag of rocks could do better and possibility even smarter . Bucky came to see her , knowing she was the only one that could truly understand what it is like to be in a place so alien and having those feeling of they didn't feel they belong in a sense. She could of been in new asgard with the rest of her people but she like this strange place. What made it funnier was he was actually of this planet and same time if someone told him it was mar or some shit he would actually believe them because still even after everything this didn't feel like earth . He watched her pretending to care , even the scowl of annoyance that grace her face that would of had loki proud. "So i think that why cardio is so important" john finished off the suggestable comment . " you know my brother would love to hear stuff like this" she smiled letting the poor mans hope rise. " although i find it all a bit boring more into the intellect of everything" her head tilted she had the man like a mouse on a string . " i mean yeah science of things but at the end of the day brawn defeat the brain" he chuckled . " i'm a goddess your brawn wouldn't tire me nor my brain" she rolled her eyes clearly done with the conversation scanning the room . " i bet i could tire you out" he winked . " the only way you could tire me out is too keep talking because it kinda putting me asleep" she fake a yawn before adding the stretching her arms to prove her point . " wow you really add to the bitchy princess stereotype" he scoffed. " oh little man i made it" she walked off eyes lighting up when she saw the man before her . " finally someone interesting" she called making the other man scoff.

It wasn't her intention to be bitchy maybe it was having loki as a big brother or the fact the man before her didn't know his ass from his elbow and yet he held something so important in his hands. She could of kept walking , ignored it and she was going to til his mouth opened once more. " really the killer" that sentence that made the fires of hel seem small to how it made her feel. " excuse me you back of the warehouse version of captain america , you wouldn't know the real downfall of earth or it's people . you hold that shield yet don't know one thing it represents nor the man that held it before you and yet you try cast you opinions on someone who went through so much and still stand before us today , if my father was alive he would agree that not one of us would have the same kind of heart and fight if we went through what that man has went through , all that pain and torture that would break you in a click of a finger" she snapped. " doll seriously it's ok" bucky said although someone should told his face with the smile having her defending him . " jame buchanan barnes and many other saved this whole universe and you dare try insult him , that shows you don't deserve that title you parade" she scoffed leaving john walker standing almost speechless . " hey little princess" sam called cutting bucky from speaking. " hello shall we leave or midgard will need a new captain" she smiled brightly . " actually we need your help" sam winked . " i feel like i should say no but lets go" she chuckled .

She sat on the ledge of helicopter watching the idiot well her favourite idiot fall to the ground and sam following after liking the new and improved wings. " you gonna jump out now?" torrez asked in awe and well slightly nervous giving who the woman is before him. " nah idiots forget i could of teleported us" she giggle before she was gone from his sight. Leaning over bucky as he lay out on the ground . " that was very stupid" she smiled holding her hand out. " well i mean i got down didn't i" he smirked back up at her. " your an old man it's quite dangerous" she laughed . " how old are you again" he shot back. " times different i mean in earth human years i'm only what twenty five" she tapped her chin . " wait so how old was loki when you know tried taking over earth " sam came to their side. " earth years sixteen" she walked off causing sam mouth to get louder at the new found knowledge . " your telling me grown ass loki , destroying new york with his alien ass army was 16 earth years old " . " yeah i mean time was something that many asgardians had to get use to being here" she shrugged. " i like it better when you where the thousand year old princess" bucky teased. " so you didn't feel like a creep my little pinning buck" sam whispered she heard it yet kept walking pretending to be oblivious to sam's constant teasing . " no but seriously loki was sixteen" sam asked making her roll her eyes . which led to her spending the rest of the time trying to explain the time differences and space and time which was probably a waste of her time as he began asking to convert their fellow avengers ages to asgardian . which then she used to tease him then turning it around. " so would it make you feel better after losing to parker" she smirked watching his face fall. " we didn't lose" bucky spoke up . " yeah redwing came in" sam added. " so redwing did, what you couldn't" she smiled. " no no now don't spin this" sam huffed. " well i mean you're so concerned with ages" she smiled. " here's me thinking you were sweet and soft like thor but your like loki" sam chuckled . " i mean me and loki did get to chat a lot , great teacher glad he left something behind " she smiled softly as sam realised his words . " shit i didn't , sorry really y/n" he began rambling . " it's ok really lets get going" she walked ahead only for bucky to slap sam at the back of the head. " bird brain, and stop with the remarks she finds out i love her well i'm screwed i love my best girl " he hissed.

Even after all this time it was so hard , so stressful and completely heartbreaking to even think of her brother . loki and thor was all she had after her parents life had perished and granted she still have thor but through everything knowing once and for all that loki was truly gone , well sometimes it can take longer for a heart to heal after so much loss especially when your not fully over the others before it. The rest of the trip it was like she was somewhere else from the taunts of zemo to the fake disguise of the winter soldier it seemed as though the whole thing was getting worse bringing back scars for them all to the surface. All mentally dealing with something that was bigger then themselves . all dealing with pressures or ghost of their own past . he could see in her eyes thinking of all they lost , close friends and family behind the eyes he could stare into all day . she been around through it all , from when steve found him the first and second time . the day he pulled him from the river when she promised to take care of steve , through the battle of the airport, on the run while he was in wakanda she stayed learning how they did it and being the friend he needed. To the war how she held them all up loss after loss , she lived through the blip trying to find a way to get them back , a way to stop the mad tyrant and he wonder in that time was he on her mind like she would of been on his if the role were reversed. She would give her all for those she loved and still felt like she needed to give more it was another reason to add to that ever growing list of why he loved her .

Then now here they were louisiana celebrating the new captain america , the right choice , the one he couldn't agreed more not that he would admit that out loud . although he wish sam would shut up about y/n odinsdottir . he didn't want to scare her off being his friend , the whole time when everything was wrapped up in a bow it's all the new cap could bring up . he watched her laugh and play with the children , how even thought the sun was shining her smile was even brighter . " you know instead of still doing the whole mean steamy stare you could actually do something about it" sam nudged him playfully as sarah looked to the two. " oh if you don't i will" she winked . then the laugh got louder as he watched her walking towards him eyes locked on his and that damn smile that made him melt like a puddle. Her hand coming to his face , cupping his cheeks before her lips on his . " you know i can hear you both no matter how much you whisper" she winked turning to walk off only to feel his hand to wrap in her pulling her flush to his chest . " and you left it til now cruel doll" he smirked leaning forward . " hey girl can only wait so long plus again it's not like i didn't give you chances all these years " batting her lashes leaning up to kiss him once more only for clash of thunder shot through the sky making them jump apart. " he got the girl , my man buck nasty got the girl" sam cheered . " he always had the girl" she kissed him once . the one he wanted to see the most was truly and finally his ,his peace and his girl. 

[tiredmamaissy]

Is That So?

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Main Characters: Lo’ak Sully (19) x fem Metkayina Reader y/n (19)

Supporting Characters: Ao’nung (20)

Warnings: NSFW, smut, fluff, smean dom Lo’ak, brat/sub reader, profanity, jealous/territorial behaviour, knotting, marking, oral sex, rough/make up sex, mild angst, overstimulation, minor degradation, soft ending

Word Count: 5.5k

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: Hey anon! I hope this is okay. I kind of changed things up a bit because I did a similar piece but with Neteyam (Eyes For You). Enjoy <3

Synopsis: You and Lo’ak had a secret relationship. He ended things suddenly and painfully. You sought comfort with Ao’nung. Lo’ak witnesses this, intervenes and reclaims you as his.

Intro:

Lo’ak and his family sought uturu in your village a few months ago. Olo’eyktan, Tonowari, put the responsibility of teaching the sully family the ways of the Metkayina on you and his daughter, Tsireya and her brother, Ao’nung. Lo’ak proved to have a harder time adapting to the water than his siblings. As a result, you and him have spent a lot of time together, especially one on one breathing lessons. Ever since, you two have been sneaking around and spending ‘quality’ time together – keeping it a secret from everyone.

----

Lo’ak quickly repositions his loincloth and sheathes his hunting knife onto his hip. You watch him intently as you lean back onto the tree, trying to catch your breath. He’s always quick to leave after you and him finish the deed, grabbing his belongings and making an excuse before he goes. You knew it was coming soon.

“Uhm, y/n.” He looks down at your naked body. “I need to -”

“Go? Yeah. I know.” You say, turning your head away from him.

You can’t deny that it hurts you every time he does this.

“You didn’t even let me finish. My brother, he needs m-” he starts, only to be cut off by you again.

“He needs you to help him with something?” You look at up at him, raising your brows slightly. “Yeah. I know.” You repeat, feeling disappointed.

Lo’ak realizes that you’re upset – it was hard not to. He kneels, meeting you at your eye level.

“What is it? Are you upset with me?” he takes your hand in his.

Here we go again with the mixed signals. He says one thing and then does another. He says he can’t stay to cuddle but when you get upset about it he does this – grabbing your hands, acting like he cares about your happiness. You roll your eyes and shake your head, batting his hand off yours.

“Just, stop with the lies, Lo’ak. Just say that you want to leave... that you don’t want to stay, rather than you ‘can’t’.”

He looks at you dumbfounded, like you just told him you were with child.

“Yeah, and stop with the mixed signals, too. One minute you’re acting so loving and caring, and the next you act like you don’t want anything to do with me.” You spit, standing up to put on your loincloth.

“Y/n... I’m sorry. I - I should have been more honest with you. It’s – it’s not even what you think.” He drops his head, brushing his hands over his braids as he steps back. He looks back up at you, with big, glowing, golden saucers.

You look at him, searching his eyes for something – anything. To hear the words ‘its not what you think’ makes you feel that maybe – just maybe, there was a good reason behind all his actions. Something to pardon him of his assholish behavior. It brings hope to your heart, that maybe one day you can have what you want... him.

The truth is, he’s promised to another na’vi. No matter how badly he wants to be your mate – your one and only, he can’t. Not only would he be a huge disappointment to his father, but he would let down the Olo’eyktan, as he’s promised to his daughter – your best friend. Which is another reason why he never marked, knotted or made the bond with you.

Lo’ak found Tsireya beautiful – stunning, even. But her beauty compared no where near to yours. He wants nothing more than to stop sneaking around, to just be able to do something as simple as holding your hand around your friends. But the pressure from his father is immense, and the pressure from Tonowari is even worse.

He knew that inevitably this would have to come to an end. Neither of you or Tsireya know about the betrothment yet, seeing that Tonowari is waiting for him to become Metkayina first. Regardless, there were too many reasons why this wouldn’t work out.

Seeing the hope in your eyes, it dawns on him that the only way to do this would be the hard way – to hurt you. Hurt you to the point where you wouldn’t want to come back.

“I can’t be in anything serious with you.” he states. “I just don’t like you in that way.” He lies, gritting his teeth, not wanting to say the words.

He sees the hurt in your eyes, as they well with tears. He watches your brows pull closely together, and your bottom lip quiver. He hated seeing you upset – seeing you sad. It broke his heart, but it hurt even more knowing that he was the one making you feel this way.

He swiftly turns his head, focusing on the waterfall nearby, not being able to stand the sight of you hurting. He closes his eyes briefly, and exhales loudly through his nose. “You were a good fuck. But nothing more. We... we should see other na’vi.”

You’re speechless. Frozen in time. Trying your absolute hardest not to drop to your kneels and bawl your eyes out. All you can do is stare at the shell of a person who you thought you once knew – the person who took your virtue, as he walks away from you.

Lo’ak makes his way to his ikran, connecting his queue to it, before stopping in his tracks to look at his feet. “My heart has always been promised to Tsireya.” he mutters under his breath, mounting his banshee and flying away – not wanting to see the mess he left behind.

Now, that stung.

You were left behind in the jungle, alone with your thoughts. The words are like a blow to your back, strong enough to completely knock the wind out of you. You find yourself stumbling backwards, slumping against the tree before sliding down to your knees. Your heart hurt. It hurt so bad you could feel the pain in your chest. It burns, even. It’s as if he set fire to your heart and walked away to let you turn into ash. No number of tears that you shed could put it out.

You had to seek relief elsewhere – a distraction from the pain.

----

It’s been two weeks since Lo’ak left you in the jungle to sit in a puddle of your own tears. Since you've had to endure your heat in your marui pod alone, something he would usually help you with. You took that week off not only to endure it alone, but to give yourself some space away from Lo'ak and Tsireya.

Your feelings of despair have morphed into feelings of resentment. How could he do this to you? How could he just take what he wanted and leave you like that? Leave you alone in heat? It was unfair. You feel cheated. What hurt the most is that it’s your best friend of all people - driving a rift between the two of you.

It became awkward when the group finally came together, especially for hunting trips. Both you and Lo’ak pretended like nothing happened, because no one knew about your relationship to begin with. Tsireya didn’t quite understand why you were being so cold and distant, which pushed her even closer to Lo’ak.

Seeing their relationship strengthen over time drove you closer to Ao’nung. You knew he always had a thing for you from you were both kids. You also knew to never entertain it, the son of Olo’eyktan would never be allowed to mate with you. You were simply the daughter of a warrior and healer of the clan. But maybe, you could use him – just this once.

----

“Ao’nung!” you shout, trying to get his attention among the group.

He turns his head in your direction, seeing you signal him to come with your hand. He makes his way over to you on his ilu.

“Yes, sweets?” he smirks, having your ilus circle one another.

He’s always been flirty with you, calling you all sorts of nicknames – sweets, my lovely, cutie, pretty – the list is endless.

“Hi, you.” you mumble, not sure what to say.

“Need me for something?” he asks, peering at you through his brows.

You look behind him briefly, seeing that Lo’ak and your best friend are side by side, laughing with one another. It makes you... angry, more than sad. Sure, it still stings your heart, but as more time passes, vengeful feelings make their way to the forefront. You want to get back at him for doing this to you – for acting so normally.

“No. I – I mean yes.” You stutter, feeling nervous about what you’re about to do. “I... just wanted... to talk, I guess.” Your words are drawn out, lengthy and uncertain.

He gives you a puzzled look, not wanting to make any advances if you were unsure.

“Okay, my lovely. I’m here. What did you want to talk about?” he smiles, looking you up and down.

“Uhm...” you hum, looking around at the ocean, trying to find something else to focus on.

Your eyes pass by Lo’ak, who is now intently watching your interaction with Ao’nung with a straight face, patiently waiting for something to unfold. You decide to look back at Ao’nung, scanning his body up and down too. It’s undeniable – he’s handsome, well built, and muscular.

His ribs are wide, something that’s seen as desirable and admirable here. It means that he’s an experienced diver, able to hold his breath for long periods of time. Why would someone like Ao’nung, son of Olo’eyktan, like someone like you? Maybe you could let yourself dream a little; allow yourself to get lost in the man before you, even if it’s farfetched.  

“Like what you see?” he asks jokingly, trying to hold back his smirk.

You drop your gaze and let loose a breathy chuckle, you didn’t realise that you were lingering.

“Actually...” you trace up his body with your eyes, meeting his gaze once more. “...I do.” You try to hide your smile as you feel your face heat up.

You watch him move even closer to you, with a huge grin on his face. He rests his hand on your thigh as his eyes search your body, stopping his gaze at your breasts.

“I like what I see, too.” he says huskily, shooting his gaze back up to yours.

His face becomes serious, as he moves his hand slowly up your thigh. Your heart starts thumping, hard. All from his simple touch.

Am I into this right now? you wonder, taking note of your racing heart.

The heat pooling in your chest confirms it for you, as it slowly makes it’s way down to your pelvis in waves. You glance down at his hand sliding up your thigh, gliding towards the flesh between your legs. Looking back up at him, you rest your hand over his, and guide it to your hip, hooking his fingers under your loincloth.

Yeah. I’m into this. You hype yourself up, trying to get rid of your anxiety.

The tension is off the charts. You can tell from the way he’s tugging at your loincloth that he would rip it off and take you right now, right here.

And you’d let him.

You slide your hand over his strake (fin like structure on the forearm), and squeeze his thick, veiny bicep. Unbeknownst to you, Lo’ak left Tsireya and Neteyam, and made his way over to you, breaking the tension with Ao’nung.

The sight makes him queasy, to see you touch another man in that way. Mostly, it infuriates him, making him see red. On top of his hot temperament, seeing this scene unfold in front of him sends him into a silent frenzy. Gritting his teeth, Lo’ak firmly grabs you by the arm.

“Y/n. A word.” He spits, pulling your hand off Ao’nung’s bicep as he rides away on his ilu.

You don’t follow him. Instead, you shoot him a puzzled look - confused as to why he’s even over here trying to talk to you. 

Didn’t this man just tell me to see other na’vi?

Lo’ak looks back to see that you haven’t budged. “Y/n! Now.” He demands, shooting you that look.

You scoff loudly, shaking your head before apologizing to Ao’nung. You know what that look means, it means he’s not happy with you. It means, you’ve been a bad girl. It means…

You must be disciplined. 

You begrudgingly pull away from Ao’nung’s sweet touch, becoming even angrier with Lo’ak for ruining this for you, too. You ride your ilu roughly, following him to what seems to be… 

The cove of the ancestors?

You two had only ever gone there once - only because your spot in the jungle was taken by Neteyam and his mate. You chuckle at the memory. Both he and his mate were surprised to see you and Lo’ak walk towards them. You had to lie and tell them that you were teaching him a lesson in the lake nearby.

You shake your head, ridding yourself of the happy memories you and him once had. You will yourself to recall the horrible things he said to you two weeks ago. As you two approach the rocky coast of the cove of the ancestors, you dismount your ilus and stand face to face.

“What is it, Lo’ak?” You croak, already holding back your angry tears. “I thought you were done with me.”

“Why the fuck were Ao’nung’s fingers under your loincloth?” He shouts, turning his back on you. 

“Really? This is what you brought me all the way out here for?” You hiss, turning around to mount your ilu. 

You feel him grab your arm again, even rougher this time, and pull you into him. You see his face contorted with rage – his eyes green from envy. You’d never seen him this upset before, you could practically see his stream coming through his nostrils. 

“I thought you told me to see other na’vi.” You mutter. “Go fuck Tsireya or something.” You shrug him off you, matching his rage. 

“Fuck. Y/n.” He spits, clenching his jaw. “Agh. You - fuck. You really know how to piss me off.” 

“Yeah? Likewise, asshole.” you mutter, rolling your eyes before turning away from him. 

He pulls you back in, grabbing you by the jaw. “You’re mine.” He growls deeply, looking directly into your eyes. “Understood?” 

“Is that so?” The words come out muffled as you try to rip away from the firm grip he has on your face.

“Let go, Lo’ak” you grimace, feeling his fingers dig into your skin.

Suddenly, his gaze softens, realizing that he’s hurting you. He lets go and takes a step back, dropping his head. 

“I’m sorry” he mumbles, feeling terrible for handling you so roughly. “When I saw him touch you like that… when I saw you touch him like that…” he struggles to get his words out. 

You can already feel yourself softening at his words. Your feelings for him were too strong to deny… to ignore. You stand there, in silence, allowing him the chance to speak – to redeem himself. 

“I… I see you, y/n.” He says seriously, putting your hand against his chest. 

Tears roll down your cheeks. Hearing him say these words brings too many emotions to you at once. You pull away, afraid of being hurt again. He grabs your hand, placing it back onto his chest, afraid that he’s really losing you. 

“Please... just listen.” He pleads, furrowing his brows. “My father. Tonowari. They want me to be Tsireya's mate.” He shakes his head. “I don’t want this, I don’t want... her. But you know the pressure they put me under. I’m sorry I said those horrible things to you...” he drops his head again, allowing his tears to fall on the ground.

“I didn’t mean a single word.” 

There you go, completely soft for the man that stands before you, all over again. Your feelings come crashing back into you like they never left. Because they didn’t. You can’t even figure out how you feel, as so many emotions and thoughts are coursing through you all at once. 

“So, when I saw you and Ao’nung.” He mutters under his breath. 

You witness a sudden change in his demeanour, as he embodies that of an akula. You watch as his amber eyes turn into a deep gold as they trace their way up your body, to look deeply into yours.

“… it makes me want to fuck the sense back into you” he growls.

A fire lights within your chest, just like the one he lit when he left you in the jungle alone. But this time, it burns brighter, bigger – hotter. You step towards him, maintaining eye contact. You come face to face with the akula and challenge him.

“So do it.” You taunt, brushing your chest against his. “Fuck me.” You whisper.

In an instant he has his hand wrapped tightly around your throat, backing you up against the rocky cove.

“Say that again, little one.” He snarls.

“I said. Fuck. Me.” You moan, staring up at him as you caress the arm that pins you against the cove.

He chuckles. “Let’s do it.” He drops his smile, turning you around and pushing you against the rough wall.

You let out breathy laugh, happy that you’re finally getting what you want. He holds your face firmly against the cove with one hand, and tugs your loincloth down your legs with the other.

“What? Don’t think I’ll make you mine? Hmm? Right here? Right now?” he pants into your ear as he kicks your legs apart.

His eager movements make the fire within your chest even hotter. “I don’t.” you tease.

“Watch me.” He growls, licking your ear, hurriedly untying his own loincloth.

He presses his thick cock against you whilst he kisses the nape of your neck. “We are in the most sacred place, are we not?” he mumbles into your neck, brushing his sharp fangs against your skin.

You can’t even form a coherent thought, you’re too overwhelmed by his insistent touches. All you can think about is how badly you want him to ram his cock inside of you, to fuck the sense back into you – to discipline you. The sensation of his teeth rubbing against you makes you pant, hard.

Without warning, he marks you. Sinking his teeth into your skin, sucking slightly as he draws blood. You whimper loudly, wriggling under his grasp, feeling the wetness between your thighs drip down your legs. He unlatches and licks the wound.

“Mine.” He whispers directly into your ear, pressing his bulge between your lips.

It makes your luminescence flicker, being tamed by his touch in this way. You’re panting heavily at this point, feeling your heart thump uncontrollably. If he didn’t fuck you soon, you’d lose it.

“Oh, please...” you breathe shakily, backing yourself up onto him. “...I’m still not yours.”

Teasing Lo’ak like this would only get you one thing – punished. You want the beast within him to come out and play, to obliterate you completely.

Just like that, the beast came out to play.

“Fuck, woman.” He presses your face even harder against the wall as he hurriedly rubs his cock against you cunt, coating it with your thick slick.

“Say that again.” He growls, lining up his tip with your aching hole.

He really growled this time, right into your ear. It frightens you, making you nervous to repeat yourself.

“I’m still... not you- Fuck!” you yelp, being cut off by him ramming his entire length into you in one, hard thrust.

“Not what?” he whispers breathily, pressing his cockhead firmly against your cervix.

“Ugh... f-fuck Lo’ak.” You moan loudly, melting into his rough touches.

He pulls his cock all the way out of you, leaving the tip in. “Not. What?” he repeats.

“No... please.” You beg him, feeling so empty.

“Say it, you little slut.” He growls, squeezing your hip with his free hand.

“Fuck. I’m yours. I’m yours!” you shout, trying to rock back into him.

“That’s right. You are mine.” He plants a sloppy kiss on your neck as he slams his entire length back into you.

You squeal loudly, trying to keep your noises to a minimum.

“No. Moan for me, so that boy toy of yours can hear you.” he slams his cock into you once more.

“Ughhh. Lo’ak!” you let loose a lengthy, high-pitched moan.

“Just like that” he smiles into your neck.

Lo’ak moves his hand from your hip to your cunt, using two fingers to rub circles onto your swollen clit. He’s pounding into you so roughly that your legs feel like they're about to give out. Swiftly moving his other hand from your head down to the thin cloth covering your breasts, he fiddles with it, untying the knot in a hurry. It falls off you, exposing your erect nipples.

“Every part of you. It’s all mine. All of it.” He grunts into your shoulder, rolling your nipple between his fingers.

You feel so dazed – so out of it. He’s giving you the pounding of your life, whilst massaging your clit and nipple at the same time. You couldn’t think straight, much less answer him. You close your eyes tightly, trying to focus on one sensation at a time, so not to cry from the extreme overstimulation. But it’s all too much.

“...mmn. Lo’ak... Please! It’s too fucking much! Stop!” You whine loudly, trying to pull his hand away from your clit.

“I tell you *slam* to go see *slam* other na’vi *slam* and you actually do it? You listen to me too well.” He pants, thrusting his hips even faster into you.

“Please! Lo’ak I can’t take anymore!” You cry out, moving your other hand behind you, pushing his pelvis away from you.

“Cum for me, then I’ll give you a break.” He breathes, pushing even harder against you.

Each thrust makes your lewd noises louder and louder. He sets a merciless rhythm, rutting his hips into you ruthlessly, insisting with his thrusts that you cum on his throbbing, veiny cock. He matches the speed of his fingers with his hips, fondling with your pearl even faster. You let loose little, whiney mewls as you can’t hold back anymore. Giving into the immense pleasure, you release your tensed muscles, allowing yourself to cum at last.

“Cumming! Cumming! Cumming!” you repeat loudly, hoping he’ll hear you and stop.

But he doesn’t.

Your legs are shaking uncontrollably, just like your pussy pulsing violently around his cock, releasing your essence all over it. He’s still pounding into you, feeling no pity for your trembling body.

“I came Lo’ak! Please!” you beg, clawing at Lo’ak’s arm.

“Shh, little one. It’s alright, you can take it.” He reassures you, planting hickeys along your shoulders, ramming his cock even deeper into you. “It’s what you deserve for being a little slut. For touching Ao’nung.” He growls, pressing even harder against your clit.

“No! No... please!” you cry out, begging him repeatedly for mercy.

Tears stream down your face as you sob from the overstimulation. It feels like your clit is on fire, like your bladder is going to burst – like you’re going to cum all over again.

“I feel you heating up again, my sweetheart. It’s okay, you can cum.” He groans in your ear.

You sob loudly, as your face reddens from the swelling of your sweet spot. He’s fucking right into it, trying to make you gush all over him again. You feel your body pushing him out of you, tensing up again as you reach your second climax.

“Here? Right?” he pants, bucking his hips even harder into your sweet spot.

“F-fuck! Yes! Yes! Yes!” You sob as your entire body convulses, pushing his cock out of you while you squirt your nectar all over your trembling legs.

He pulls his hands away from your sore nipple and clit, wrapping them tightly around your waist to keep your knees from buckling. You slump into him, breathing erratically as you come down from your high.

“Shh... Shh. You did well, baby.” He whispers, lowering you onto your knees. “Here is your little break...” he grabs a fist full of your hair, turning you around to face his huge cock. “...you earned it.”

He looks down at your watery, drunk eyes as he pushes his cock into your face. “Taste yourself.”

You take a deep breath, before taking his tip into your mouth. From all the sobbing and begging from earlier, you had enough spit for him to slide his entire length into your mouth easily. The head of his cock hits the back of your throat, causing you to gag. His head dips back as he releases guttural groans into the air.

“Fuck.” he moans, pulling himself out of you. “Lie down and spread your legs for me.”

You know better by now not to disobey his orders. You were too fucked out to even talk back. You lay down on the mossy rock beneath you and open your weak legs. He sees your inebriated, weary eyes, and starts to pity you.

“Alright, my love. You’re okay.” He hums, gently wrapping your limp legs around his hips.

He crouches over you, looking deeply in your eyes, realizing how far he went. He wipes your tears away with the back of his hand and leans in to kiss you softly. He moves his wet kisses down to your shoulders, planting a kiss over every hickey he left behind.

“Do you want to stop?” he mumbles into your shoulder.

You look down to see his raging erection, jumping at the sight of your slit. “But you haven’t calmed down yet.” You mumble.

“So? It does not matter.” He mutters, unwrapping your legs from his hips.

“No, don’t.” you purr, tightening your legs around him, pulling him closer to you. “Keep going.”

He stops briefly, searching for your bluff in your eyes. You pull him his face closer to yours and kiss him feverishly. “I want you inside me, Lo’ak.”

You both watch as his cock disappears slowly into your body, inch by inch. Your gazes meet again now that you are forehead to forehead. He rocks into you languidly, as he caresses your thighs. Your breath hitches when his pelvis meets yours.

“You okay?” he asks, worried that you’re in pain.

“Mhm, feels good.” You breathe into his mouth.

“Y/n.” he states, thrusting lazily into you.

“Mmm?” you hum, closing your eyes to immerse yourself in pleasure.

“Will you be my mate?” he pants as his hips buck into you a little faster.

Your eyes fly open, surprised that he asked you that. He can see the shock in your face and kisses you gently.

“I mean it. I don’t care anymore. I don’t care what happens if I go against my father. Or Tonowari.” He pants between kisses. “I want you to be mine. For life.”

Here we go, crying again. The words touched your heart in a way you’ve always wanted his words to. He pulls away and hushes you, wiping away your tears once more.

“Don’t cry, my sweetheart.” He whispers, leaning back in to kiss you once more. “You mean more to me than anything else.”

You feel like you can’t get the words out – you’re so choked up. Instead, you just tug at his queue, bringing it over his shoulder.

“Say the words, my love. I don’t want to do this if you’re not sure.” He stops his movements, sitting up slightly.

You nod quickly, still tugging at his queue. “Yes, Lo’ak. Yes.”

His eyes lit up as the corner of his lips curved upwards. Lifting your head with one hand, he uses the other to stroke the length of your queue, bringing it over your shoulder. Taking his queue in your hand, you bring them together, watching them intertwine with one another. You both take a sharp breath when the bond is made, feeling each other’s breath, the thump of your hearts... the love you have for one another.

“I see you, my mate.” Lo’ak croaks, holding back his tears.

“I see you, ma Lo’ak.” You cry, kissing him passionately.

His hips rock into you once more, picking up speed quickly now that he can feel your arousal – your desire for him. He’s so deep inside of you it feels like he’s about to pierce through your cervix, right into your womb. He’s never gone this deep before. You struggle to catch your breath, as you look up into the sky to see the eclipse occurring.

How long have we been at this?

The fire in your chest is overflowing, trickling down your spine right into your womb. You feel sensations you’ve never felt before. You’re synced with him, feeling his climax quickly approaching. Not only that, but you can feel something else – something bigger asking for permission to come inside of you. Worried, you search your mates’ eyes for answers.

“Feel that?” he grunts, pushing his knot against your entrance. “’tis my knot. You think you can take it?” he asks breathlessly, through pursed lips and furrowed brows.

He’s never knotted you before. He always made up some excuse before, about why knotting is off the table. All you can muster up the energy to do is nod, as you open your legs even more to accommodate him.   

“Wait. Did you get your heat?” he pants, trying to figure out the chances of getting you pregnant if he knots you right now.

“I – I got it... the week you left me. Mmn... The week that I took off - Ugh!” You whimper, feeling his knot trying to burrow its way inside of you.

“Fuck. Y/n. You should have told me.” He grunts, pushing his pelvis into you even more.

“I didn’t know! I thought... you told me... Oh – oh shit. Lo’ak that’s too big!” you blabber as your head feels cloudy. “I can’t –”

“Only I can calm your heat, y/n.” he grits his teeth, gripping your hips and pulling them closer to his.

Images of Ao’nung calming you during your heat unwillingly flashes through your mind. You can feel the jealously bubbling in Lo’ak’s chest - his territorial urges taking charge. He’s going to knot you, whether you like it or not. You hold on tightly to your mate, bracing yourself for Lo'ak to claim you as his.

You feel your pussy stretch to incomprehensible lengths as he shoves your hips down onto his thick, purple, veiny knot. Your moans start as low, lengthy mewls, eventually morphing into loud, strained grunts as it pops inside of you. You bury your face into his neck, breathing in his natural scent.

His cock throbs, spurting thick ropes of warm, sticky seed deep inside your womb. You hear his guttural groans and grunts right next to your ear, as he rocks into you every so often, ensuring to fill you to the brim.

“Mine.” He growls, slumping onto you.

“Lo’ak.” You croak, barely being able to breathe. “You’re squishing me.”

“Mmm.” He groans, rolling onto his back, bringing you with him.

You’re on top of him now, laying stomach to stomach, whilst your face is nestled into his chest. You take a few deep breaths, before closing your heavy-lidded eyes.

----

After caring for one another, you both make your way back to the village. Arriving at the shore, you dismount your ilus and walk hand in hand to the mangroves where you meet the displeased gaze of the Olo’eyktan and Jake. Behind them stood the rest of the sully family, and Tonowari’s family.

Everyone is trying to get a glance at the two of you through the two big-bodied men that stand before you. You both bow, sweeping your fingers from your forehead towards them, acknowledging their presence. They look at each of you, and then down to your intertwined fingers. Jake is visibly resisting the urge to skin his son in front of everyone, and Tonowari is giving you a very disappointed look. Ronal steps forward, looking the two of you up and down as she circles you both.

“Tonowari. What is this?” she yells, causing both your ears to lay flat.

Lo’ak lets go of your hand and steps in front of you.

“We are mated...” he mumbles, looking at his feet. “...for life.”

“That’s enough.” Jake interrupts, hissing under his teeth.

Lo’ak shakes his head, stepping back to hold your hand once more. “It is done. Before Eywa.” he looks up at his father, and Olo’eyktan.

Ao’nung makes his appearance, walking swiftly from behind his father, eyes locked tightly onto Lo’ak holding your hand. Lo’ak strides forward, almost lunging at Ao’nung. You pull him back to you, and tug on his arm.

“Don’t. Were already in a lot of shit, Lo'ak.” You whisper, squeezing his hand tightly.

“I don’t care. You are my mate, now.” he whispers loudly, hoping Ao’nung and the rest can hear him.

“Is that so?” you mutter under your breath, dropping your head to hide your grin.

Tags:@jakexneytiri @sweethoneycn @deadgirl02 @keijis-wifey @pandorxx @swiftielivvie @teyamfangirl @bl-lover-yaoi @sooebear @vanillawhale @bxnnywriting @athenachu @trashboat-the-raccoon @avaixe @itssiaaax @qweq-6802 @rodeosayu @girlpostingsposts @jakesullysbabygirl @rinloversworld @agelsully @zetey @boooogieman @jiafeimagic @eywascall @yawneneteyam @weirdomcu @pandxrastars @eichenhouseproperty @camgod78 @kibiscribbles @bedofpearls @kurtsworld096 @audrinawf @otukirey @deexdeez @c78r @bby-bo @neteyamsmate4life @wheniseeyouigogonutz @sullymenrhot @jakescumdump

[froot-batty]

happy hatter day to all those who celebrate >:]

Jervis Tetch seemed to one day just...appear in Gotham. Jervis simply popped into existence in Gotham's foster care system with an Alice in Wonderland book in his hand; no records of his birth or who dropped him off there, if anyone. Jervis himself can't remember where he came from before Gotham, but if you asked, he'd figure he just fell down the rabbit hole and ended up here.

Jervis was placed with many different foster families over the years. She never seemed to mesh right with any of those she was placed with, and spent very little time in each before being returned and shipped off to another. Being so young (and already pretty fragile, mentality-wise), Jervis' brain needed a way to cope with the ever-shifting, confusing mess that was her life.

In came Alice in Wonderland.

Imagining the homes she was placed into as the various places traveled to through Carroll's books made things a lot easier for him to deal with. It even became fun, after a while! He would slot the adults or the other children inside the home into specific roles within his mind's version of Wonderland, and would treat them and act out scenarios accordingly. Whenever he was pulled out of his Wonderland, he would become foggy, distant, and downtrodden - like the world had lost it's color.

(This growing disconnect with reality would only increase how many times she was placed in a different home.)

Eventually, Jervis outgrew the foster system, and shipped herself off to Gotham City University. While her first literature love would always be the Alice in Wonderland series, she had devoured anything that related to the mind and the influence of it. During her time in college, she spent her free time perfecting the act of hypnosis - almost to a scarily good extent. Though at first she only used this to make a little extra money from doing shows at parties.

Jervis graduated with a bachelor's in science and almost immediately joined the new, experimental neuroscience branch that Waynetech had begun developing.

Though most of the work there was doing research, Jervis loved his job, and stayed long enough to earn his Ph.D. in Neurochemistry and work his way up to directly working with the chemicals Waynetech was developing. Of course, the people working alongside Jervis weren't the best. She was funny-looking, and weird, and talked far too much, so that made her quite unpopular with just about everyone. All except for one Alice Hart.

Jervis thought he had long left Wonderland behind him, but suddenly it was back in full swing, invading every moment of free time with daydreams of tea parties with Alice in his lovingly-crafted Wonderland, all the roles filled perfectly so he would never have to venture outside of it again. A growing friendship with Alice herself in the real world did nothing but worsen Jervis' obsession.

But work had to continue, and Jervis had stumbled upon an idea that really captured her attention. A way to chemically influence the brain to do whatever you'd like it to do - like a form of liquid hypnosis. This had started with good intentions, but as Jervis gradually approached the rabbit hole, the development for it became...more unethical. Her first tests were on mice, and then on herself, which only proved to make her mind float even further from the real world. But it worked! When injested, it was less outright control and more suggestibility, but paired with her knack for hypnosis, she had invented mind control.

Her debut of what she'd found didn't go over well. Their creepy coworker, who seemed less-than-grounded on the best of days, inventing a way to control people's minds? That spread rumors around the branch, and eventually, Jervis' bosses made the collective decision to terminate him. While he was brilliant, they had been looking for an excuse to replace him with someone less, well....mad.

This devastated Jervis. But he at least had one thing to cling to - his dearest friend, Alice. She had supported her throughout all of it, and when Jervis plucked up the courage to ask her out for a night, she agreed. What she didn't know upon arriving at her home was that Jervis had long past gone over the edge, and the tea she offered had a little something other thrown into it.

]See, Jervis had concocted a plan. He gathered all of the people in his former company that he thought best fit the roles in his Wonderland, including his Alice, and took them to the Alice in Wonderland exhibit at the Gotham Museum. There, he forced them to reenact his favorite book series with him, the lines between reality and fantasy finally becoming one.

Batman came to the rescue a few hours into it, when Jervis had already been struggling to keep so many people under her spell. She fought back the Bat as best as she could, but it was actually Alice who put a stop to it. Alice, who had managed to snap out of Jervis' control and pick up a prop axe from one of the exhibits, caving in her captor's head with it when she wasn't paying attention. Though the axe was blunt and not made of actual metal, it was still a very heavy object, and before being taken to Arkham Jervis had to undergo extensive medical treatment that she'd never fully recover from.

Nowadays, Jervis drifts in-and-out of Wonderland once again. He is desperate to put all of the pieces back together and live his dream, but he can be patient. He's content to make friends with the other Rogues and help them out when his skills are needed, and in turn be seen as harmless to them.

For now.

[lookingthroughmirrors]

Opinion on how annabeth punches and pushes percy, the judo flip and percy being reduced to a himbo malewife in hoo (can't make his way out of a paper bag without annabeth).

(Please note most of knowledge comes from PJO and HOO as I have not read much of the later series, but I do know the main points and events that happened and have read certain pages *cough* judo flip *cough*

I’ll start with the first part, Annabeth punching Percy (which happens the first time long before HOO) and the infamous Judo flip, which is for some reason very controversial.

Most of the arguments I see are one of these few things.

1. Annabeth was worried and did it out love

2. They were raised as demigods (child soldiers) so it’s not the same/ they are used to violence therefore it excuses her actions

3. There is nothing wrong with her hitting because it wasn’t like

First off, all of these arguments and any other ones I’ve seen when it comes to this topic and defending Annabeth are bullshit. Why? Because there is no excuse to hitting a partner. Slapping someone’s shoulder while joking or something in a similar context is miles different to what was happening here. Annabeth hit Percy hard, and she did it with the intention of making it hurt. There is no excuse for that. Sure, they were raised as Demigods and violence has always been a large part of their lives, but then shouldn’t Percy also lash out and hit Annabeth if that’s the case? And shouldn’t that be fine too? You don’t hit someone out of worry or concern either, not hard enough for an army to believe you to be a threat. Annabeth has never been nice to Percy, she canonically say in TLT that she doesn’t care if he dies, only that she can go on the quest. And ok, maybe that could be written off as an immature twelve year old, if her actions in later books didn’t continually prove that she hadn’t changed or developed. I think another fundamental issue in her relationship with Percy is that she can never be wrong, Luke being the biggest example of this.

Percy, even with his history and past friendship with Luke, was able to look at things objectively to an extent. He says multiple times that Luke had a point. I honestly think if it had’ve just been Luke, if titans hadn’t of been involved, that Percy would’ve joined Luke. But that’s a whole other thing. I only bring it up because I think Luke particularly is the best example of Percy having far better judgement than Annabeth, who refuses to be wrong. Something that again is addressed within BOTL, when she challenges the Sphynx because of her pride, and is an asshole to Rachel because she doesn’t want to rely on another person and is jealous. She likes being the leader, she wants to be the person people rely on, but that has always comes naturally to Percy despite how much he himself hates it.

I personally would’ve far preferred Perachel to be canon than Percab*th. Percy is always stressed about Annabeth, about doing the wrong thing where with Rachel feels like he can be himself, not like he has to live up to some invisible standard he can’t ever hope to meet.

I also, as I’ve written about before when discussing Percab*th is that Annabeth is not an essential character to HOO, and that she could’ve easily been interchanged for someone more interesting and dynamically different. I think Percy was sidelined to try and give Annabeth more purpose in the story. I also think Percy is consistently put down, berated and underestimated. He literally has people thinking he’s a god when he first meets them, that isn’t someone who lacks power. I also think Annabeth has always been a little bit scared of Percy to certain degree. Or at least acutely aware that she would not be able to put a fight if Percy turned on her and he put in a tiny bit of effort.

I also Percy is never given enough or really any recognition of everything he did. That he took the prophecy so it wouldn’t go to Nico. That he turned down immortality, not for Annabeth, but because of a promise he made to Luke and his years long stance that nothing is worth living forever for. I think the nuance of Percy as a character, and his ability to connect with and understand characters like Like and Ethan is severely underdeveloped. He has never been blind to the gods faults, he didn’t do what he did in the name of the gods. He did it for the campers, for the demigods who’d carry out their parents burdens simply because they had the audacity to be born. Demigods doomed to die from the moment they’re born because of their parents, like him. I particularly think Percy is too far often used as a scapegoat for Nico’s issues and often either villainised or dumbed down into a himbo.

It’s ridiculous, since Percy has repeatedly shown himself to have both better judgment and better strategising skills than Annabeth. Percy is better than Annabeth, and he has far more power than she ever will.

Percy is such an amazing and nuanced character with so much room to explore different characteristics he’s shown at different times and he is too often sidelined to boost another character (most often Annabeth and Nico)

Overall I don’t really like Annabeth, and I’ve yet to hear a viable reason as to why what she did should be ok. And I truly believe HOO did a disservice to Percy by dumbing him down, and making him reliant on Annabeth.

I hope you like my answer! Thank you so much for asking I absolutely love getting questions and I also love a chat so please feel free to keep it coming!

[kibblbread]

This is completely aimless and scattered, like more than usual but whatever. Either way it’s just relationship dynamic stuff~ btw pls read the fucking pizza gorl fic —>>> 🍕✨

Random thought but i think exposure therapy might be the best option in aiding Jason to recovery, well, that and gentle coaxing! Jason is very responsive to praise because he’s definitely a people pleaser. I know it might be hard to tell looking at him from a glance; but let’s not be shallow, he gives chance after chance to his loved ones no matter how much they screw him over. He’s simply a lover boy. So I conclude that Jason is a huge people pleaser, and he’s privy to it but ignores himself. He hates digging into his psyche.. it just hurts, poor guy has too many painful memories.

But it’s necessary for healing unfortunately 😔

AK!Jason is extremely.. emotionally.. wrecked. He doesn’t act outside his redhood persona often unless it’s completely necessary— like getting food and supplies, or even to possibly get intel.

At least for a while.

Meeting PG turns his entire world on its head! He’s pretty out of his element as it is while trying to define his persona, the redhood. But PG! Hoo boy— he did not anticipate a partner in crime. A sidekick if you will lol. So essentially his healing process is expedited(just a tad bit); since Jason interacts with his family at a much faster pace than otherwise on his own terms. Dick is very eager to give his younger brother the much needed affection and support that JT deserves but doesn’t want to scare Jason away. So early in the rekindling process, Dick takes a backseat and lets Barbara lead— she’s the voice for not only herself, but Dick & Tim even Alfred for a bit too. Babs knows just what to say and how to say it more often than not! Jason is more relaxed around her than any of his family for a time.

JT’s attitude is still pretty rotten though, he’s suffering so there’s still so much happening within him that slows them down in regaining his trust.

He’ll still snap & even become aggressive toward Barbara if she isn’t cautious and calculated in her approach, which she is, but she’s not a mind reader and can trigger the worst in Jason. However, on the other side of the spectrum, we have pizza. PG seems to never catch any lip, and if she does it doesn’t seem intentional most times— genuine underestimation is the biggest culprit. PG can be reckless, it’s the largest pain point in the fic between these two imo! But you’re not from gotham, you’re truly ignorant, you’re like a second chance to him almost. You don’t know of his sins, not really anyway… A slate as clean as yourself, he’s gotta prove to you he’s not a useless, unworthy, sorry excuse for a person right? He’s gotta prove it to you.

To his family.

To gotham.

No, he doesn’t. But if we are gonna play this game he proved it when he put on his life on the line once as robin, and a second time the moment he decided to become redhood. He’s no less worthy than anyone in reality. Hopefully he’ll see it in this lifetime, but even if he doesn’t, it doesn’t change how you see him and continue to see him. It most definitely doesn’t change how you make him feel either. 🥰 PG is a protective person at heart. She’ll do what she can to help just about any decent human being but especially her loved ones.

Jason sees it. He can feel it too, subconsciously he wants what she wants for him. So he’ll allow her to poke and prod him where he needs to be directed. JT allows a lot from PG actually, from her quick gentle touches to her quips and questioning. He doesn’t take it the same from any of the other bats, when it’s from family it’s nothing short of condescending. Humiliation and anger rises bubbles from his gut straight into his heart. But from you? It’s not something he can quite name.. sometimes it’s annoying, yes, but with you he doesn’t mind feeling insecure as much. You don’t know what insecurity looks like on him just yet so naturally he allows you to suggest things he wouldn’t otherwise acknowledge. The dialogue between you two is allowed to flow freely. To not know Jason’s trigger’s is to not know his anger; which is arguably both a pro and a con.

The closer PG gets to JT the more she sees what he’s capable of.. and how. The why is what she’ll inevitably get to, but how she gets to his truth is much more important. I think PG not being afraid of how Jason will react is her biggest advantage in being so close to him. On the reverse side of things, Jason is more calm because to him, she not antagonistic in his mind. She doesn’t know his past or the extent of JT’s capabilities so why would she, and even if she did, could she? Again I feel JT genuinely underestimates PG as she is a civilian and not held to his impossible self imposed standards. It’s not malicious, he just wants to protect her, his guard is lower than usual which isn’t saying a lot because it’s still extremely high. JT is still distrustful don’t get me wrong, but it’s not personal like it is with his family.

When you tell J he did good, that he’s accomplished something, he’s on the moon. PG’s acknowledgment goes such a long way in the never ending void that is his insecurity and self loathing!

On a less abstract level, when it comes to doing, Jason unintentionally gives PG the go ahead to start pushing his buttons when he inevitably begins clinging to her presence for comfort. For better or for worse, you push many buttons. lol.

“Stay here a bit longer?” Fine, what’s a bit longer?

“Call for back up! We need help!” Im good enough for the job, but maybe some help would be better than none in this instance…

*looks around Jason’s safe house* “Damn bitch you live like this??? Sleepover at my place😝” *complies but serves the most bombastic of side eyes*

The batfam get to see parts of him they haven’t seen before, or at least in a very long time when you two interact in front of them. Jason is still largely argumentative, but thats how it stays surprisingly, he doesn’t boil over and actually backs down or bites his tongue. Which is.. shocking to say the least. Dick & Babs take note of the more true extent of his patience and how willingly he’ll hear your suggestions. They’ll take note of how freely you grab his hand and drag him along. They even notice him suspiciously looking in your direction for prolonged periods while your back is turned. Hmmm very note worthy indeed. Jason is all too aware but doesn’t know what he can do about without you noticing his clear change in demeanor. But quite a few of his new habits fly under his own radar when it comes to being around PG!

He’s less jumpy for one.

Jason isn’t at all more confident in his abilities since he’s still crippled with anxiety and a lot of self doubt but, he’s really focusing on monitoring and guiding you. JT is teaching you to work smarter, teaching you how the streets of gotham work. And above all else making sure PG can keep herself safe! He’s firm and direct, sometimes even sounding like the commander of a militia 🤭 I like to think sometimes he reverts accidentally. Jason also tends to stay close to PG. Most times it’s unintentional but others he’s just watching out for you. You give him a lot of good vibes and reassurance and JT just naturally finds himself hovering over to where you are. Like him and D are side by side on a rooftop, then all the sudden he’s breathing down your neck because you decided sitting on the ledge of a building was cool like a dumbass. But the most notable of all these habits is how much he allows your touch; JT doesn’t squirm away from you either, he stays put. PG will touch his shoulder in gentle support or give his hand a quick tap to pull his attention.

Barbara finds this behavior interesting, Dick thinks it’s adorable but is lowkey in his feelings about it.

Lol

I think thats it for now…

thank u for reading my post bestie 🍕🤪

[snowblack-charcoalwhite]

"Come with me" by Alicent after b&c and well, basically everything, was such a disgusting way to put a final nail in the coffin of what once was, or could have been, a great character. I'm so tired of this useless and distasteful queerbaiting and the nonsensical ship that has been so detrimental to the story. And 'a son for a son' by Rhaenyra?? B**ch, what?! What about baby Jaehaerys? And why wouldn't Alicent mention him? No mention of Jaehaerys, but we got the cringe nail biting, what a peak character development. They must think they are so smart, Condal and Co. Anyway, almost everything was bad in the episode, but the Rhaenicent scene must be n01 of the horrors.

I would also like to make a brief comparison of the two character assassinations we saw this season, Alicent's and Aemond's. Both characters were indeed stripped of any significant and organic development and the result is the mess we've got. However, I think that the intentions weren't the same. With Alicent, I believe that these excuses of the writers wanted to depict it as her atonement, her regression to the only version of Alicent that in their minds, deserves sympathy, young Alicent who longs for Rhaenyra and seeks her approval . She is humiliated and constantly punished by the narrative so when she finally 'comes to her senses' and crawls back to Rhaenyra, she has a chance to ingratiate herself to the audience (and I've seen positive reactions to her in the finale on SM, so it wasn't entirely fruitless). Therefore, the writers actually in a way wanted to endear her to the GA and this was their way to do it. She is in the wrong and must be punished and ridiculed as long as she is the beacon of TG and as long as she doesn't ditch her sons for Rhaenyra, or, "to stop the bloodshed". With Aemond, it was more straightforward. They needed a one dimensional villain and they got him. They wanted to kill all the sympathies for his character and his popularity in s1 was in the way. Hence, all the idiotic changes and inventions regarding his character, and let's not forget the fact that he is one of the supposedly 'important players' who doesn't even have a POV. He needs to be boogeyman for tb and he is allowed to be badass and scary just enough to be a worthy opponent to Daemon so his victory (or whatever it was) at God's Eye doesn't fall flat, but he cannot in any way overshadow the rogue prince. And yes, in the finale he had less than 4 minutes of screentime which proves how Condal's gang sees his character, and also the utmost disrespect they treat him (and his fans) with. Once again, this clearly works because a considerable chunk of the fandom, and I'm sorry to say this, is braindead. It's apparently true that they wrote the show for the worst sort of Dany and Targ stans (and I like Dany and the Targaryens), people who go like 'yass, Queen,' 'slay, queen' , 'the Targaryens are the saviours of Westeros' etc. Daemon's vision and his and Rhaenyra scene proved this perfectly.

Sorry if this was too long. I know I sound angry, but this damn season wae such a torturous and nonsensical snoozefest that it irreparably soured this universe to me. Anyway, it's always a pleasure to read your thoughts wi thanks in advance.

Hello! Thank you for the ask and for the compliment!

First of all, I heartily agree with everything you said.

Condal&Co, apparently, really believe themselves to be oh so clever. GoT callbacks - you got them (overbearing and quite often confusing as heck but who cares). Scenes featuring mirroring, symblolism and whatnot (most of them with Alicent and Rhaenyra) - in abundance (dragged out and pointless - like Alicent swimming scene - but this is Cinema™️). Progressive feministic agenda - you are welcome (said agenda is actually degrading for women as it at the very best presents them as passive and lacking ambition and the will to act - plus it absolutely effing destroys multiple characters and their storylines). And HBO people apparently don't care - and they will not care until all this atrocity bites them in the ass in one way or another.

Alicent doesn't remember Jaehaerys having been murdered - but who does? Poor boy has been all but forgotten right after the show had Helaena announce that she should get over her grief because the smallfolk suffers more than she does. Besides, in the writers' eyes it's not Rhaenyra's fault anyway since she had nothing to do with it. And it's not actually Daemon's fault either since he was shown feeling sad about it for a couple of seconds. You know what, in fact the blame for Jaehaerys' death completely lies with TG: Aemond shouldn't have murdered Luke, Alicent and Criston shouldn't have been fucking, Aegon shouldn't have been drinking with his friends. So it really doesn't count. I have seen a post made by a (quite deranged) TB stan where they claimed that "many sons should die to avenge Luke because we are talking about Lucerys Velaryon". Whatever that even means, Condal and Hess apparently share this opinion.

As for Aemond and Alicent, I agree with you once again. In one of my previous answers I mentioned that the key word for Alicent's character assasination this season is "humiliation" and for Aemond's - "dehumanization". Well, that's literally it: one is shown to be completely miserable (the cause for that misery being her supporting the wrong side of the conflict) - plus she brings the same misery on her daughter's head; the other is left almost without any means for us to understand what he really thinks and feels. Ewan pours everything he has into his eye acting - and it can be seen in the few instances when we are allowed a couple of seconds to focus on his face - but the script staunchly continues hammering home the point of Aemond being a psycho with next to none emotional connection to his family.

Team Green characters had such a huge potential - together and separately - but the writers with their pro-Daenerys agenda (and hence pro-Rhaenyra one as the Black Queen is clearly their Dany 2.0) couldn't have that. There is some hope remaining for Aegon and Larys team up - but I don't trust the writers with them one bit.

[karahalloway]

(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 20 - Steal Me Away

Fandom: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series Summary: The social season may be over, but Harper Gale’s problems are just beginning. With everyone at court a potential suspect, can she and Drake survive the engagement tour and get to the bottom of the plot against her and clear her name? An AU take of TRR2 featuring my OTP - Harper & Drake.

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

Chapter Summary: Drake is back... but that doesn't mean that it's a happy reunion...

Word Count: 4,300

Rating/Warnings: M (shouting, guilt-tripping, dangerous driving, swearing in multiple languages, one over-heated kiss)

Chapter theme song:

Chapter 20 - Steal Me Away

I whirl around in disbelief. "Drake...!"

He's stood before me with two days' worth of stubble, regarding me with a long-suffering look.

But it really is him.

And I feel my heart swell, even though I can tell that he's not exactly best pleased to find me in a random antique shop in the middle of Rome.

The muscle in his jaw twitches. "I turn my back for one goddamn minute and—"

"What are you doing here?" I blurt.

"I can ask the same of you, Gale..." he counters, folding his arms over his chest. "Because this sure as shit ain't no bridal boutique."

My chin lifts on its own accord. "I decided to make a detour."

"Jesus fucking—" He rakes his hand through his hair. "Did you leave your brain in a ditch somewhere in the process?"

My eyes widen. "Wha—! No! I—"

"The city is crawling with paps!" he almost shouts, jabbing a finger towards the door. "Who are looking for any excuse to make a meal out of you! Did you not think for one second that—?"

"What?" I counter heatedly, stepping up to him. "That I should cower and hide instead, like I'm to blame for it all? I told you — I refuse to let these people—"

"Well, it would've been a damn sight better than making me chase you across half the fucking city!"

"Why were you even chasing after me?" I demand, my own ire flaring. "You're supposed to be in Dubai!"

"Been there, done that, got the jet lag to prove it," he hits back sarcastically. "But just because I'm gone doesn't mean you suddenly have carte blanche to fuck off on your own."

"Says the person who walked off without so much as a 'see you later'..."

His mouth hardens. "I didn't want to—"

"Also, I'm not on my own," I continue testily. "Allard and Schweitzer—"

"—are fucking fired," he cuts in, suddenly darkened mocha eyes flashing. "They should never have—"

"Ch'è qualche problema?"

"No!" Drake and I snap in unison.

The old man falls mute before muttering something disparaging under his breath.

I continue staring at Drake, heart thumping and chest heaving in the wake of our dust-up.

He glares back unblinkingly, jaw clenched as the tension rolls off him in palatable waves.

I reach up to adjust the strap of my tote indignantly. "So much for trusting each other, huh, Walker?"

"Dammit, Gale," he growls. "That's not what—"

Grabbing the wrapped box off the counter, I stomp past him without a backwards glance. "See you back at the embassy."

He has some nerve, showing up out of the blue t—

I barely make it two steps before he's grabbed me by the arm.

I open my mouth to retort...

...but I'm not given a chance to get a word in edgeways, because in the next instant, he's slammed me against his chest, laying claim to my mouth with a ferocity that's on the verge of being savage.

The fight whooshes out of me as my arms fly up to wrap themselves 'round his neck, even as I feel his fingers dig against the soft cotton of my dress, pulling me to him like a long-lost ship to anchor.

"Christ, girl," he growls against my lips. "You send me off the edge of reason..."

"I'm... sorry..." I gasp, clinging to him helplessly as he trails down the line of my jaw. "I didn't mean to—"

"Ah... l'amore... non è bello se non è litigarello."

Drake starts as he gets clapped roundly on the back.

Peeking up, I see the shopkeeper smirking at us conspiratorially as he ambles past.

"Err... Sì," coughs Drake, pulling back from me. "Sto certamente imparando che a mio spese..."

The man laughs in response. "Non capita a tutti?"

"You speak Italian?" I gawp, feeling a flush creep up my cheeks as the old man throws us a wink over his shoulder.

"Uh... Yeah..." Drake mutters, running his hand over the back of his head somewhat sheepishly. "With Bast."

"Oh." I glance between him and the old man. "What did he say?"

"An old proverb," Drake says, looking just as embarrassed as I am feeling about the fact that we'd inadvertently let our dirty laundry rip in the company of a complete stranger. "Love is not beautiful if it does not quarrel."

My cheeks redden further. "I-I see..."

"It's kind of a compliment..." he admits, shooting a sidelong glance over at the man, who's now busy dusting some shelves. "But we should probably get out of his hair."

"Definitely...!" I chirp, diving towards the saving grace of the exit.

"Err... La saluto," offers Drake on his way out. "E scusi il disturbo..."

"Eh!" comes the scoffed response. "Chi non risica non rosica. Ma è meglio stare attenti con lei! Donna buona – vale una corona."

"Lo so..."

"Everything alright?" I ask as Drake joins me on the baking pavement.

"Yeah," he assures me, not quite meeting my eye. "Just giving his two cents..."

Something flashes across his face, too fast for me to read.

But before I can ask him about it, he's already marching me across the square.

"What about Allard and Schweitzer?" I protest, trying to squint behind me as Drake navigates us 'round the incessant stream of sightseers. "Are they—?"

"I sent them back to the embassy," Drake replies, yanking me back as a pair of kids dart out in front of me.

"You didn't actually fire them, did you?" I gasp.

"Sure as hell thinking about it," he mutters, moving us forward again.

"If it's any consolation, they did try to talk me out of coming out here..."

"Clearly not hard enough."

"I can be very persuasive when I want to be," I remind him.

He lets out a low breath. "Don't I fuckin' know it..."

"Look," I say, coming to a stop and turning to face him. "I get you're pissed—"

"That's putting it mildly."

"—but don't take it out on Allard and Schweitzer," I tell him flatly. "They didn't do anything wrong... and I actually get along with them."

He holds my gaze for a long time before answering. "They're not your friends, Gale."

"Maybe not in any conventional sense," I admit. "But getting me a security detail had been your idea, Walker. And I know I was against it initially, but Allard and Schweitzer have been able to be there for me when you haven't."

His mouth hardens.

"And I know that grates you," I continue quickly, before he can cut me off again. "But we knew from the start that this was going to be the case, so if you do need to leave, then I'd prefer to be left with people I can trust. And I trust Allard and Schweitzer — with my life. Which is actually saying a lot."

He holds my gaze for what feels like a full minute before answering. "I'll think about it."

"That's it?" I demand in disbelief as he grabs my wrist to pull me after him again. "After all that, you're just going t—?"

"I said I'll think about it."

I glare at his back. "You're a dick."

He rounds on me like a wolf. "I'm a fuckin' realist. And the reality is that Allard and Schweitzer messed up. Big time. And I don't care how much you like them, or how many times you've braided each other's hair—"

My eyes narrow. "That's not—"

"—because none of that fucking matters out here! What matters — the only goddamn thing that matters — is keeping you safe. From the paps, from the aristos, even from your ownfucking self, if you're about to do something stupid. And at that, they've unquestionably failed. So, no. I'm not about to cut them a break. Especially not on your say-so. Because the stakes are too fucking real, and I'm not gonna let anyone play dice with your life. Least of all the people whose one job is to look out for you. Got it?"

I force myself to blink back the sudden tears in my eyes. "Yeah..."

"Good," he grunts. "Now get on."

Glancing past Drake, I spot what is very literally the last thing I'd expect to see him with.

I scoff up at him. "In your dreams, bud."

"Gale," he warns, reaching for one of the helmets that's hanging from the black and white moped's frame. "I'm not in the fucking m—"

"Well, neither am I," I hit back tersely. "So, you can take that deathtrap of a Vespa and shove it."

"First off," he counters, tossing the helmet at me. "It's a Piaggio. Second, the only reason I had to resort to this is because you decided to bail."

I catch the helmet irately. "So, you're saying that this is my fault?"

"Damn right, it is," he confirms, extracting a second helmet from the storage compartment nestled beneath the seat. "It's got all of 50cc so it's underpowered as fuck."

"Then why the heck did you get it!"

"Because it's the fastest way to get around the city."

I snort at him. "You mean, it's the fastest way to get into an accident..."

He prays for deliverance under his breath. "Gale, for the love of Christ, will you just—?"

"No," I declare, folding my arms. "The last time you conned me onto the back of your motorbike, I literally thought I was going to die. And after seeing how everyone in Rome drives, I have no interest in—"

"You drive, then."

Drake's unexpected offer pulls me up short. "Wait. What?"

He pulls a set of keys from his pocket. "It's a one-time offer, Gale. Either you take the wheel, or I do. But you've gettin' your ass on this sorry excuse of a bike, one way or another."

"I..." I swallow thickly. "I don't know how..."

"I'll walk you through it," he assures me. "There ain't much to it."

"Somehow I doubt that..."

"Clock's tickin', girl..."

I heave a breath before shoving my head into my helmet. "Okay, fine. I'll do it."

"Figured you would," he murmurs, holding the keys up. "You know where these go?"

"Up your ass," I retort, snatching the keychain from his hands.

The corner of his mouth twitches — whether in amusement or annoyance, I can't tell.

Not that I really care. I can be a jerk, too. But, I figure that at least with me driving, we won't rack up any speeding tickets or near misses on our way back to the Cordonian embassy, which is where we are staying for the two nights that we are in Rome for.

Walking up to the moped — admittedly with more swagger than I'm actually feeling at this moment — I grab the handlebars and swing my leg over the middle of the frame.

After a quick inspection, I locate the ignition switch and slot the key in.

But before I have a chance to try and turn the engine on, Drake's hand appears in my line of sight.

Reaching between my legs, he opens a hidden compartment in the frame. "For your bag."

"Oh," I say in genuine surprise, taking my bag off so I can tuck it away. "That is actually kind of neat."

"Last thing we need is for you to lose your stuff..." he drawls, shutting the glove box back up.

As he straightens again, his arm brushes the bare skin of my knee. And despite (or maybe because of) the unresolved tension shimmering between us in the wake of our heated reunion, I can't help but feel a familiar zap of electricity course through my nerves at the inadvertent contact.

"No kidding..." I concede, somewhat hoarsely. Clearing my throat, I add, "So... umm, what's next?"

"Grab the break and turn the key over as far as it'll go."

"So, kind of like a car," I surmise, following the instructions. "Why isn't it starting?"

"Because you only turned the electronics on," Drake advises. "To kick the engine off, you need to disengage the kick stand, and then press the start button."

"Jesus Christ, this is complicated..." I grumble as I scoot off the seat so I can try to figure out how to do what he just said.

"No more complicated than sailing a yacht," Drake counters, watching my antics from the safety of the pavement. "Just give it a shove ."

"How will that—?"

"It's got a rear-mounted kickstand," he says. "You disengage it by rolling the bike forward."

"Right," I grumble, feeling like a total idiot. "Because that's so obvious."

Maybe I should've let Drake drive, after all...

"You still holding the break?"

I snap my head up as I give the handlebars a hard push. "Huh?"

A squeal erupts from my mouth as the moped suddenly lurches forward beneath me, and I have a moment of sheer panic as I wrestle with the hunk of metal to keep from crashing to the ground.

"I told you to hold the break..."

"You could've been more specific!"

He lets out a low breath. "You good?"

"Yeah," I huff, finally managing to find some semblance of balance with an uncooperative moped  stuck between my legs.

"Turn her on, then."

I scan the buttons in front of me. "Err..."

"The one by your right thumb."

Shifting my grip, I extend my thumb out to press the button...

"You still holdin' the break?" Drake asks.

I quickly tighten my hold on the left-side break. "Yes."

Drake eyes me unconvincedly. "Just checking..."

I stick my tongue out at him.

"Hey," he objects. "You're the one who wanted to do this, Gale."

"Yeah, everything is my fault today..." I grumble as I press the start button.

The moped sparks to life beneath me, and I feel a massive rush of achievement.

"I did it!" I cry, meeting Drake's eye with an unadulterated grin.

He quirks a brow at me. "Y'know you're still stationary, right?"

"Shut up."

Drake steps up to the bike with a shake of his head and flips out the passenger foot rest. "Last chance to bow out gracefully, Gale."

I glance over my shoulder at him. "If you're trying to pull some kind of reverse psychology on me, Walker—"

"Wouldn't dream of it..." he assures me dryly, mounting up as well. "But my word is gospel, y'hear?"

"Aye-aye, Cap'n," I say sardonically... while trying to ignore the heat of his body and the instinctive urge to lean back into it as he settles down on the narrow seat behind me.

Because as much as I missed him, and as glad as I am that he's back, our volatile reunion has served as a stark reminder that we never finished our conversation back in Applewood. Not only that, but thanks to the almost break-neck speed at which things have been happening, the list of topics for discussion has only grown since then.

And the last thing I want is for us to fall down the same toxic hole that we did in the wake of Christian's surprise reveal in Valtoria.

I just have to hope that we'll be able to squeeze in some much-needed couple time before even more things pile up between us.

Not to mention, I'm desperate to know what had happened with Tariq in Dubai... and whether Drake's record-fast turnaround is a sign of some much-needed success, or even more demoralising failure.

But, first things first: getting back to the embassy in one piece, without the paps chasing us.

I feel Drake roll his eyes at me. "Wrong salutation, but never mind... Now. We're gonna do this slowly and gently. There's a lot of people around, and we don't need you on the front page of the Sun again because you accidentally torpedoed a toddler."

My throat constricts. "Y-You saw that?"

"You'd be hard pressed to find someone who hasn't," he mutters. "But right now, your focus needs to be on driving this thing. So, eyes up front and ignore everything else."

I swallow down my nerves. "Okay..."

"Your right hand controls the throttle. Your left hand controls the break," Drake instructs. "For the love of God, don't mix that up, or I'll be on the phone to your patents explaining why you suddenly need skin grafts."

I wince involuntarily at the gruesomeness of that particular image. "Got it."

"It's a mistake you'll only make once," he warns grimly. "To get going, twist down on the throttle while slowly easing up on the break. Don't jerk it, or you'll face plant into the speedometer."

"Anything else?" I ask, somewhat nervously.

As anticipated, driving a motorbike is a lot more nuanced than Drake made it look back in Cordonia. And I'm having some serious second thoughts about this whole thing...

"Keep your feet off the foot-stand until you've got enough momentum to stay upright."

"How will I know that?"

"You'll feel it," he assures me. "Like on a bike."

I bite my bottom lip.

"Hey," he says, brushing his fingers across my hip. "You got this, girl."

The familiarity of Drake's touch — even though it's fleeting — unwinds something in me. Because it's an unspoken reminder that no matter what may be going on around us... or between us, it's not going to come in the way of the promise that he made me.

I suck in a steadying breath. "Okay. Here goes."

Readjusting my grip on the handlebars, I twist my wrist down. Feeling the engine start to rumble with increased vigour, I gentle ease up on the break.

The Piaggio begins to creep forward.

"Watch the road, not the instruments," Drake cautions from behind me.

Lifting my eyes up, I carefully navigate us 'round the oncoming pedestrians, keeping my feet suspended alongside the moped, in case I need to make an emergency stop.

But, as we move away from the iconic landmark, the crowd starts to thin out, and the street widens. Passing a fruit and vegetable stand, I let go of the break fully, the bike pulls forward eagerly. Feeling slightly more confident, I add a bit more gas so I can finally lift my feet up without capsizing our delicate operation.

"Not bad," Drake approves. "You just gotta relax a bit."

I flush inadvertently. "I am relaxed."

"Your shoulders say different. You're driving like Quasimodo."

"Oh." I make a concerted effort to straighten my posture. "Better?"

"Yeah. But now you need to drop your elbows."

"So much for this being easy..."

"It is," he insists. "Once you get the hang of it."

"You and your technicalities, Walker..." I grumble.

"Everything's got a learning curve," he reminds me. "But we just might make a Hell's Angel out of you yet."

I snort back at him. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Evil Knievel. We haven't made it back to the embassy yet."

"Then you might wanna knuckle down for this next part."

"Why? What's—?"

I get my answer as we round a corner and come parallel to a busier-looking road.

Great...

"Right here, then first left," Drake advises as we approach a somewhat complicated-looking three-way intersection.

"Umm... Okay..." I mumble, eyeing up the noticeably faster-moving traffic on the main road with more than a bit of trepidation.

"No one's gonna give you room, so you'll have to gun it," comes the no-nonsense tip from behind me. "The indicator is by your left thumb."

A Fiat whizzes past, but the next car is some distance away. Taking a breath, I flick the indicator on and twist down on the throttle to merge into the gap.

"Move over one more," Drake shouts over my shoulder. "You're taking up the bus lane."

"Where the heck does it say that?" I demand, casting my head around in confusion.

"On the sign we just passed..."

"Was it invisible?"

"Hey," counters Drake. "You wanna argue with me, or a cop?"

"Neither," I concede sourly, making the switch to the left-side lane after a quick check in the mirror. "But they could've made it more obvious..."

Drake scoffs. "It's Rome. The bastards are trying to catch you out."

"Clearly," I agree, taking a left at the traffic lights...

...straight into a two-way fork in the road.

"Umm... What now?" I squeak, trying to hedge my bets as much as I can in the rapidly shrinking room that I have to make a decision before I run into the curb.

"Stay left."

I start to turn the bike, only to yank it back violently with a yelp as a car that I hadn't realised was trying to overtake me blows past with a scream of its horn.

"Vaffanculo!" yells Drake, throwing his hand out angrily at the other driver.

"Ohmygod..." I rasp, my entire body shaking in the wake of the near miss.

"Fuckin' asshole," gripes Drake. "You okay?"

I swallow thickly past the lump in my throat. "I... think so."

"If you need to pull over..."

I shake my head. "No. I'm fine. I just..."

"...get a kick outta playing chicken?"

"I don't do it on purpose!"

"You sure?" he asks dryly. "'Cause you definitely seem to be making a habit of it..."

I open my mouth, but quickly think better of it... as Drake has a point. I have had a few too many near misses lately. "Sorry... It isn't intentional. I thought that since I'd left the indicator on, that—"

"I know," he assures me, laying a hand on my hip again. "I'm not blaming you. But all the calls you've had have been too close. And..." His fingers tighten against the material of my dress. "I just don't want you to—"

"I know," I concede softly. "I don't want that either. And I'm not normally this accident-prone, I promise..."

"Except when your blood sugar's low," he corrects wryly.

His words cause me to clench my eyes together in consternation. "Damn it, the croissants..."

In the whirlwind of Drake's surprise reappearance, I'd forgotten all about the primary reason for sneaking away from the bridal boutique.

"What croissants?" queries Drake.

"The pistachio ones I was supposed to get from this little bakery next to the fountain that the Italian President had recommended."

I feel Drake's disbelieving gaze knife into the back of my head. "Seriously? That's the reason you were out playing hooky?"

"One of them, yes..." I reply evasively.

"Putain de merde..."

"Apparently they're very good..."

Drake mutters something under his breath. "Pull over."

My eyes widen. "What? Why?"

"Because it's past noon, and you're clearly starving."

"I'm fine," I insist, even though the only thing of substance I've had since this morning was the cup of coffee on Olivia's jet. "I'll just grab something when—"

The Piaggio lurches to a stop as Drake slaps a hand on the break. "No. You won't."

My eyes widen as my feet fly out on instinct to steady the suddenly stationary moped. "Why not?"

"Because the staff at the embassy already have their work cut out pulling together tonight's dinner, so the kitchen is off-limits," he explains, hopping off the back. "And you won't be able to take two steps outside to grab a sandwich without picking up a pap tail."

"Then why have we stopped in a dead-end alley?" I ask in disbelief as Drake pulls the moped it onto its kickstand while I'm still sat gaping at him from the seat.

"Because we just passed one of the best restaurants in Rome," he states. "So, I'm buying you lunch."

His cinnamon-laced eyes meet mine, and I see a sudden flash of rawness in his gaze... a silent plea entreating me to say yes. Which means this is about more than just food.

"Okay," I accede, wondering what could've prompted such a sudden change of heart. "But what about the paps? Aren't you worried we'll get spotted?"

"See any people?" asks Drake, reaching across my lap to turn the ignition off.

"No, but—"

"Exactly," he affirms, pocketing the keys. "This is one of the few places in the city where you ain't gonna bump into a reporter."

"How do you know?"

"Because apart from the fact that Sugo actually makes its own pasta, it is also a stone's throw from Parliament," he explains, offering me a hand to help me off the bike. "Which means that pencil pushers from every level of government come here to ink deals over carbonara, so no one — staff included — is gonna mess with the status quo."

"Sounds like something out of a mafia movie..."

"Where d'you think Hollywood gets its ideas from?" he drawls, pulling his helmet off to stow it in the under-seat compartment. "Places like this. Which is why no one will bother us here. Especially not the paps. It'd be a death sentence for this joint if their tight and discreet ship suddenly sprung a leak."

"Good to know," I acknowledge, unclipping the clasp of my own helmet. "But how did you even find out about this place? Let alone got in?"

"Leo," Drake replies, taking my helmet to clip it onto the handlebar. "He's on a first name basis with the chef."

I quirk a brow at him. "Sounds like there's a story there..."

Drake extricates my bag from the glove box with scoffs. "It's Leo. There's never not a story. But let's get you inside first. Before you pass out on the pavement."

"I'm not going to—" My stomach rumbles in pointed disagreement. "Okay, I am hungry. But where exactly is this place? There's nothing here apart from the back-ends of buildings..."

"Have I ever let you down when it comes to food?" he asks with a raised brow.

"No..."

"Then trust me."

The story continues in Chapter 21 - You Give Me Reason

A/N: Translations for the Italian below:

Ch'è qualche problema? - Is there a problem?

Ah... l'amore... non è bello se non è litigarello. - Ah, love... It is not beautiful if it does not quarrel.

Err... Sì. Sto certamente imparando che a mio spese... - Err... Yes. I am definitely learning that the hard way.

Non capita a tutti? - Don't we all?

Err... La saluto. E scusi il disturbo... - Err... Farewell. And apologies for disturbing you.

Eh! Chi non risica non rosica. Ma è meglio stare attenti con lei! Donna buona – vale una corona. - Eh! No risk, no reward! But you better take care of her! Good woman – worth a crown.

Lo so... - I know...

Vaffanculo! - Fuck you!

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(Less Than) Noble Intentions only (let me know if you want to be added!)

@thetruthisthatiloveyou @anakjaybon-blog

[agendabymooner]

closure ! max v. x ofc (hearth sister!ofc)

“it wasn't right—the way it all went down. looks like you know that now.”

summary: sylvie just wanted to prove that she was good enough for the red bull racing team, but everything that had to do with her history with max seemed to get in the way of her determination— and she made sure that he knew that.

content warning: panic attack (and its triggers), use of explicit language, mentions of absent father figure, j*s verst*ppen 🤢, christian horner, frenemies to lovers (ish), confrontational text messages (max and sylvie), max being oblivious to her mental state, mentions of max’s childhood (not detailed)

note: as someone who struggled to find peace at certain situations, I know what it’s like to struggle in asking for help. please remember that there are people that are more than willing to give you the support that you need.

(i may not be able to update any of the smau works for the next two weeks as i am out of town and i only have my ipad with me. i normally do the layouts on my computer. i’ll try my best!)

enjoy xx

masterlist

2016 Spanish GP

If fate worked like this all the time, she might as well jump off the cliff if any of her peers asked for it.

She had been pulled out of her lectures for the week only for her to sit and watch how the racing teams operated. She could only roll her eyes when Christian Horner recommended she should have her presence be known in the paddock and the track as she prepared to work in an F1 team.

Sylvie already knew how everything worked; she was going to be a driver, for fuck’s sake. She had been trained for it. She grew up attending the race weekends because of her father and grandparents. She knew everything now. Hell, she even had Toto Wolff for an in-law (practically). He could just rerun everything to her if she needed to remember.

Christian Horner clearly had a different intention towards her visit. He claimed that she needed to relive the experiences in the garage, the media pit and the hospitality. But she knew the truth.

She had a rapport, her history in the academy was obviously discussed to Christian at some point. How Christian never mentioned anything about her departure from the program to her sister, who now held parts of Red Bull and the other two teams, she never had an answer for. It wasn’t a secret to most. At least to those who were there the day she left.

Tilly was in the Mercedes area, leaving her little sister in the Red Bull hospitality as she listened to nothing. She felt so alone and isolated, her urge to go to Mercedes was overwhelming. But it wasn’t as if she could; Christian had already told her off about her role and position in the company.

It didn’t help that Max Verstappen, donning his number 33 shirt, was in the same building. He was quite adamant on keeping her company but she constantly avoided him, slipping out of his sight as soon as his eyes settled on her.

She found excuses, most of which had something to do with Daniel Ricciardo. The Australian hadn’t minded though, knowing that she felt uncomfortable being around other people especially around Max. Daniel never minded her excuses, instead making up a lie that’s believable to others. Just so she could escape.

Max’s family was there that weekend. Obviously, she knew his mother and Victoria, his sister. Max and Sylvie, the two 18 year olds, were practically soul twins. Born on the same day, grew up together, and had been attached to the hips since the day they could crawl— they were friends, no one just knew what had happened. His mother had always asked Sylvie’s mum about her and how she’d managed to let her friendship with Max dissipate like that. Victoria missed having Sylvie over for tea whenever she visited the Netherlands, asking Max about what he had done to let Sylvie go like that.

Jos Verstappen was a different story. He never liked Sylvie, only holding a certain amount of respect for Julius Hearth and Blanche Ford Hearth. He always wanted Max to be successful at motorsport and this meant that nobody could be as equally good as his son. Not especially when Max’s ability matched Sylvie’s. He always claimed that hanging out with “that girl” will simply distract Max.

Even if he nodded at his father’s direction, Max continued to be friends with Sylvie, spending more time together whenever she and her family would fly and meet with his family.

At the ripe age of 12, Max admitted to her that she’s the closest thing that he had to an imaginary friend. Like he was forced to grow up before he could even walk. She was the one who would pull up the PlayStation whenever he failed to please his father for the tournament of that time. Jos never liked her, but he didn’t know exactly what could’ve made him dislike her. Sylvie didn’t like him, either, because she couldn’t believe that she was the one who’d have to give Max the childhood that he deserved. There are times when she wished she could simply spew out the foulest words and lump him with her own father. Well… she had already considered him a shitty father, and there’s no changing of opinion now.

So for Sylvie to see Jos in the paddock, basically keeping his eye on his son like a pestering hawk? Yeah, she turned away from their direction.

Then another group of people came, the same arrogant smile all over their faces. They taunted her.

She could remember her last week at the academy, when she had enough. These boys questioned her abilities on the track as soon as she started, trying to get her to quit as soon as she could. She didn’t care about them, because whenever they’d race she remained on the top of their level. They hated her because of it. Then on her last day, she was left to be called a name that didn’t even fit her…

“Snake Sylvie!” Matt Bauer was what she called Max’s bitch. He never liked Sylvie and had always wanted to be in Max’s family’s good graces. Alongside him were Max’s two other friends. These three were the same incompetent fucks who never ended in Formula 2. Thus, ending their racing careers early. They were doing fuck knows what these days. Which was quite hilarious, if you were to ask Sylvie, because they were the ones who kept telling Max to “Keep working” or “toughen up and get the first place.”

She couldn’t remember their names when she met them again that weekend, her eyes were already blurry from the tears as she shoved her way through them. “Where are you going?! We’re just going to catch up, babe!”

She didn’t even stop, her feet speeding up as she attempted to wipe her tears away. Her lips let out a stutter of excuse me as she pushed her way into where the Mercedes garage was.

Second free practice didn’t start anytime soon and Sylvie was thankful for that. It, however, never stopped the camera by the engineering station from capturing the sounds of a sobbing girl and an image of her nearly soaked Red Bull shirt as she ran inside. Had she been stronger than this, she wouldn’t have ran to Toto.

As if he knew someone was coming his way, Toto Wolff immediately took his headphones off and turned. His face etched with worry as Sylvie wrapped her arms around his broad figure. She was hysterically sobbing and shaking, her tears almost soaking his white shirt as she kept her head tucked in his chest.

“Can we stop the camera? There’s an obvious situation going on in here and we need a moment,” Sylvie couldn’t hear his voice as it was something more of a rumbling noise. Meanwhile Toto’s stern expression made the cameraman do as he was told. “Hey, schwester, are you okay?”

She was relentless, sobbing as she kept her head down and her arms tightly wrapped around him. She couldn’t speak. Not breathe for that matter. It felt like the last day of the academy all over again. Having no voice felt like she was just as defenseless once more.

“Sylvie, do you want me to take you to your hospitality?” Her bloodshot red eyes, still tearing up, stared into his dark ones as her lips quivered and her head shook left and right. “Do you want your sister?”

Toto knew that the Mercedes hospitality was nearer to the Red Bull area than the Mercedes garage. So for her to go this far just for comfort… something told him that she didn’t want to stress out the pregnant woman and that she needed more than her sister.

He pursed his lips, feeling helpless as he kept an arm around her shoulder as they walked out of the garage. He nodded at his engineers as if he was letting them know about leaving for a moment.

He did his best at comforting her. Rubbed her back, shushing her quietly and gently leading her to the hospitality. People outdoors had gotten a glimpse of her situation and began to speculate, which forced her to hide her face once more as Toto glared at them.

“Come on, schatzi,” inside nobody had batted an eye on her. And instead of speculating, certain people merely looked at the two with concern. What the hell happened, they probably asked themselves.

She was too busy crying and hiding her face away that she hadn’t realized Tilly was already approaching the two. Sylvie didn’t look up until she heard, “What happened, bello?”

“She came to the garage,” Toto said quietly, looking down at his in-law with concern as he said, “she couldn’t say anything because she’s having a hard time breathing.”

“Oh, lovie,” Tilly whispered empathetically, her delicate figure reaching out to hug her little sister, “I’m sorry to hear that. Come, let’s sit down, yes?”

Sylvie could barely think throughout the process of moving from one place to another. They reached the Mercedes motorhome and found themselves in a private room, Sylvie’s lips were swollen and her tear-stained cheeks were red.

She wasn’t even aware that Toto left until his tall figure returned with two bottles of water in his hands. He simply placed it down on the empty table and exchanged looks with his girlfriend. They couldn’t even find a way to help her out of this.

“Listen, Sylvie,” the girl’s sobbing subsided for a moment as Toto said, “I will come back. Okay? I will check and make sure that you’re alright, but I have to go.”

“Yes, go,” Tilly nodded at him, “I’ll be here. Thank you for taking her to me, mon amour.”

“Alright, I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Toto murmured as he leaned down and pecked Tilly’s lips. “I love you.”

“And I love you,” Tilly smiled ruefully, her eyes trained on her little sister as Toto moved to stand and hug Sylvie. Sylvie could only hug his waist, not wanting to let go but had done so anyway.

“Take some time to breathe, lovie,” Toto said for the last time before he left hesitantly.

Nobody but the two were inside the motorhome, thankfully. Sylvie would be so embarrassed to cry in front of other people— as she had done so ten minutes ago. The silence was interrupted by Sylvie’s sobbing. Tilly couldn’t help but wrap her arm around Sylvie’s shoulders, trying to occupy as much space as a pregnant woman could. God, this was the only thing that she didn’t like about her pregnancy. She wasn’t able to comfort her sisters or anyone as much as she’d like to do.

The model couldn’t even think or try to let out a single word, only crying in her sister’s arms as she listened to her shushing. It didn’t take long until the tears dried up. Her energy drained from crying too much over some fuckers who couldn’t even make it to the podium. Them, and that one person would be able to do that on Sunday.

With exhaustion washing over her, her sniffles turned into something more silent as she shut her eyes. It didn’t take long for Tilly to notice this as she stood up, giving more space to the girl on the couch. “Get some rest, lovie,” Tilly said quietly, brushing Sylvie’s hair away as the girl drifted off to sleep.

She really didn’t like being here in Spain.

—

Argument just outside the motorhome was what had woken her up. It was normal to have frustrated drivers or team principals throw a bitch fit, but hearing an argument was a different story.

Her eyes stung from opening after her post-crying nap, her feet meeting the floor as she popped the lid of the bottle open, her parched body taking in the water that she swallowed.

She liked eavesdropping, she really did. She liked to provide her own input even if it’s not needed— she was nosey and everyone knew that. But what she had gone through just about an hour or so ago made her lose the energy and motivation to be her usual self.

It didn’t stop her from walking closer to the door and listening in to whatever argument was going on.

“She’s here to observe and work, she’s not here to spectate,” that was Christian Horner.

“But she’s not feeling well, Christian, she has to rest,” now that’s her favourite in-law. Not really in-law.

“Look, I get that you’re looking out for her but you have to understand,” Christian hissed, “she’ll be signing with Red Bull as soon as she graduates. I cannot have her working with the team if you’re constantly mollycoddling her just because you’re the closest that she has to a father figure. This is a professional work setting, Toto, and she needs to be disciplined to be a part of it.”

“Disciplined, in what way?” The sternness on Toto’s voice could kill, unless you’re just as stupid as Christian as Sylvie heard a scoff coming out of the Red Bull team principal’s mouth.

“Everybody’s going through tough times,” Christian said, “so what? Most of us are moving along anyways. Don’t treat her like a child and make exemptions. She’s never going to learn how to toughen up from it.”

“Hey!” Another voice rung out as the door opened slightly, making her step back as she heard an exclamation of, “That girl was distressed after she left your area— the place where she’s supposed to feel comfortable working in. It’s not her responsibility to bear the problems that are clearly happening within the area of your control, so don’t you tell us how to accommodate if you can barely take care of it. Alright?”

“Fuckin’ prick,” the door slammed shut as Sylvie’s figure remained frozen, her eyes watching as they met Lewis’ dark ones. He smiled gently and asked, “Hey. Are you feeling better now, sweetheart?”

She didn’t respond for a moment after she heard Toto say, “Just give it a rest. She’ll work on what she has to do, just let it go for now. Speak to Tilly, if you would like.”

“Don’t worry about them,” Lewis pulled her back to the couch and sat with her. He leaned back as he joked, “Lovers’ quarrel is what’s going on between the two.”

She chuckled quietly, unable to keep her facade. The laughter fell eventually as she muttered, “I didn’t mean to create such a scene. I’m sorry.”

“What? Hey, girl, no,” Lewis felt his heart break at her words as he reached and rubbed her shoulder for comfort. “Don’t be sorry for snapping. It’s brave of you to keep it together in the first place.”

“I really didn’t mean to make a big deal out of it,” her voice cracked as she tried not to cry. Thinking about it was exhausting and saddening. “It’s just— there’s—“

“It’s okay, take a deep breath,” Lewis told her softly. She did as she was told. Many would say that it’s a rare thing to happen but Sylvie listened.

“There’s just people,” Sylvie explained quietly, not looking at Lewis as she murmured, “I haven’t seen them for a while and… I felt so uneasy. Like it’s the final nail in the coffin. I didn’t want to make a big deal because it was at Red Bull. Nobody’s in there. Toto, you and Tilly are in Mercedes.”

“Sorry we couldn’t be there,” Lewis told her sympathetically. “But it’s a good idea that you went to the garage as quickly as you did. Now look, even Christian’s facing Toto’s wrath.”

“I don’t want to think about it anymore,” Sylvie whispered shakily, shutting her eyes close as she sighed, “I just want some closure.”

The next few days were dreadful. She hadn’t wanted to go back to England as much as she did that weekend.

The people she never wanted to see were there. The sad part of it was the fact that Max would continue to be a part of her life and job, whether she liked it or not. She’d have to tolerate him, no matter how much shit she had gone through because of him and those people around him. This was the second time she had seen him and felt so angry. It was like her life was a race. It starts out very well, with her at the pole. But then she crashes the moment she tries to take advantage and overtake.

On Sunday, Max landed in P1. Sylvie watched him pop the cork of the Moet out and showered his fellow podium winners with it. The text that she then received and sent spilled everything that had nothing to do with champagne. But rather explained how she ended up leaving the academy after that damn open tournament four years ago.

Max complains a lot, he could admit, but he never felt so guilty as much as he did when he practically berated her through a series of text messages. He always demanded answers to things that he believed had explanations, and he wouldn’t stop until he got it. But sometimes he wished his relentless demands were silenced by his conscience.

He felt extremely guilty and upset. It wasn’t because Sylvie Hearth refused to give in to his demands, but rather because her answers explained her hatred and anger. It wasn’t just any anger. It was an ounce of hatred and a lot of anger directed towards him.

Because really, he was the reason why Sylvie never turned out to be the first woman to become a Formula One driver. She never got the seat in Red Bull Racing and Max had gotten it instead. Now he understood why she would refuse to speak to or look at him as if they were childhood best friends and act like they were strangers.

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

I don’t understand Zut’s obsession with bloodbending. This technique, as we can see, is used for taking control over other body for the purposes of fighting the enemy, torture, abuse. We see Katara’s horror at having to learn and use it in the Puppetmaster and her disgust of the idea that someone should invade the body and control other being against their will. We see her using it in Southern Raiders and realizing that she went too far from the line she drew for herself – and it works to show her pain there. But to take it and say she should have used it more, for healing and power? I don’t get it.

Their logic is "This looks cool, therefore it is empowering, and she only ever used willingly one time, when Zuko was around, so OBVIOUSLY that means Zuko empowers her."

Nevermind that, like you pointed out, Katara did NOT feel empowered during these moments: on the first one she felt coerced, abused, terrified, and manipulated, and on the second she felt like she had betrayed her core vallues in a moment of blinding rage.

And it's just crazy to me to notice how zutarians are constantly trying to force parallels between Zuko and Katara - yet they are ignoring the one that is right in front of their faces.

Zuko was disfigured by his own father, who justified his abusive behavior as being for his son's own good and "teaching him a lesson. Hama masks her intentions of forcing Katara to learn bloodbending by claiming she just wants to bond with her as her teacher.

On the day of the eclipse, to keep Zuko around until he's able to try and kill him, Ozai manipulates his son by using his love for Ursa against him, offering to tell him what actually happened to her. To force Katara to bloodbend, Hama uses her love for Sokka and Aang against her, controlling them so they'll kill each other unless Katara steps in.

When Zuko has his Agni Kai with Zhao, he almost gives him a scar as well, but decides to spare him at the last moment because, even though he's still in denial about being abused, deep down he already knows he doesn't want to be a monster like Ozai. When Katara uses bloodbending on who she thinks is her mother's killer, then realizes her mistake, she gets quite a brutal awakening that makes her realize she's not simply going after justice or even revenge, but rather allowing herself to fall victim to cycle of violence and abuse like Hama did.

This is a genuine, not at all forced parallel between Zuko and Katara, and that the writers basically handed to the shippers in a neat little bow - and they threw it in the garbage because it did not allow them to glorify violence, romanticize Zuko's past as a villain who was prone to violence, pretend Zuko and Katara only have positive traits in common and could only ever bring out the best in each other, and demonize Aang as this abusive person that wants to control what Katara can or cannot do.

And ironically enough, in doing so, they not only disregard the meaningful theme of an abused child refusing to repeat the same mistakes of their abuser, but they also make excuses for the ONE person in the entire show who was everything they claimed Aang is.

Hama felt entitled to Katara's loyalty, obedience, admiration and respect. She felt she had the right to dictate how Katara should or should not fight, what was or wasn't against her moral code. She was deliberately manipulative to get Katara trust her, then waited until there was no one else around to help her to make her true intentions clear - and then proved she was VERY willing to react with violence if she didn't get what she wanted.

Zutarians go on and on about how their ship is the "feminist, pro-Katara ship" and how Aang is totally abusive, then turn around and glorify the actions of the ONE person in the entire show that fits the definition of "Katara's abuser."

[altocat]

It’s been a long while since I have read the avatar comics, so I’m wondering why you don’t like Ursa? I’m very likely not as informed to form a fuller opinion of her so what’s your opinion?

Ohhhh god the Ursa thing...

They revealed that Ursa's disappearance wasn't caused by her being dead or held hostage or lying low and waiting for the right opportunity to reveal itself. Oh no. It's revealed that she selfishly decided to give herself amnesia and live out the rest of her days with a new husband and child while leaving her two kids with Ozai where they would no doubt be warped and abused for the rest of their lives. The Search expanded on her past and showed us point blank that Ozai was an abusive and toxic husband and father. So Ursa choosing to never go back for her kids or have any intention of even REMEMBERING them is really, really vile. Sure, she's in exile. But her choosing to sacrifice her memories of them solidifies that she never intended returning to them, much less think about them.

On one hand, I would be totally fine with Ursa starting a new life with a new family, albeit while still dwelling on the children she left behind. It would be really interesting and bittersweet, especially if she was biding her time waiting for the day when Zuko became Firelord and she could return home at last. But the fact that she had no intention of ever seeing or remembering Zuko and Azula again while KNOWING the kind of person Ozai was is pretty irredeemable. Zuko and especially Azula have huge hang-ups about their mom and Ursa legit not giving enough of a shit to ever come back unintentionally makes Azula look CORRECT when she says that her mother never cared. And worse still, the comic seems to brush Ursa's actions under the rug like it's nothing. Zuko immediately forgives her and--bonus--gets a shiny perfect supportive new baby sister to replace the problematic OTHER one. Azula is no angel by ANY means, but The Search is basically an excuse to torture her psychologically for three issues with no catharsis, with Ursa subsequently not bothering to look for her daughter in the comics to follow, even after regaining her memories.

Azula's big insecurity that drives her nasty behavior is centered on the internal fear that her mother saw her as a monster and never really loved her. Turns out, she was probably right. Or at least, her mom didn't love her enough to fight for her, allowing Ozai to corrupt and twist her. Ursa wasn't coming back to prove to Azula that she always loved her and wanted the best for her. In the flashbacks, she's only ever shown ignoring or scolding the child Azula, basically giving the reader no indication that she actually cares about her daughter. At least not anything that's especially solid. That's not even digging into stuff Zuko went through after she left. You'd think Ursa would take one look at Zuko's scar and apologize for not being there to protect him. But no. No mention at all. Sure, she left in order to save Zuko's life. But there was still never intention of rescuing her kids, no intention of ever wasting another thought on them now that she's found what she's looking for. They were an afterthought. The comic is all about her reclaiming autonomy with a new husband and family as a fuck you to Ozai, but it ignores the really messed up fact that Zuko and Azula NEEDED their mother more than she seemed to need them.

The Avatar Comics have honestly ruined Ursa beyond repair imo. There was a better way of writing this and they choked it. She is truly detestable and the fact that the comic never actually calls her out on it just makes it worse. Characters like Lucrecia are characterized as intentionally flawed and were FORCED away from their kids, with whom they had no prior relationship. But the difference between Ursa and Lucrecia is that while Ursa completely abandons all thought towards her kids in pursuit of a selfish happiness, Lucrecia does nothing BUT wallow in self-loathing and blame. Lucrecia was suicidal after losing her son, and sought to punish herself for eternity for it. Ursa fucked off and willingly chose to forget her responsibilities as a mother, all while her children suffered.

It really fires me up. Azula and Zuko deserved better. The READERS deserved better. This was a long-running mystery in the ATLA community and the answers we got were really disheartening and kind of fucked up. And without the narrative nuance to explore the grayness or negativity behind such actions. It's really just a shame.

Anyway, rant over lol

[muddyorbsblr]

relinquish the crown: what could be done

Series Masterlist See my full list of works here!

Placement: Season 1, Episode 13; moments after 'plans & protestations'

Summary: Loki and Frigga look for a way to prevent you from being married off to the Prince of Alfheim

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: themes of incest (he's adopted but still); Prince Damien (yes he's a warning)

Things to be aware of: sad Reader hours; stressed Loki hours

Queen Frigga paced back and forth throughout her workroom, perturbed at the information that Loki had just relayed to her. Royal Child Bearer? The nerve of that insolent inexperienced child of a prince.

She should have nipped this visit at the bud the moment she held the letter from the Royal Court of Alfheim in her hands. Seen the unease with which the palace staff looked upon him whenever she witnessed him crossing paths with one of them. Or now overtly guarded and secretive so many of them had become when she would try to ask them if the visitors were treating them well.

Perhaps she could have even prevented the visit from happening altogether had she spoken to her husband about it rather than entrusted that the future she'd seen of you and Loki being happily married to one another would prevail regardless of hindrances in the form of seedy visiting princes and memory spells. She had no indication to tell her that so many obstacles would have stood in the way of your happiness.

"We must do something, Mother," Loki pleaded, tears filling his eyes even at the mere thought of you leaving Asgard to become that repugnant prince's wife. "I must do something. I cannot simply stand idly by and watch as this insipid excuse for a prince courts her and gains Father's approval. Watch as Y/N's wish to marry for love is taken away from her and she is forced to wed a man that will not treasure her, swear his fealty to her, the way that she deserves. And all in the name of fortifying alliances with the insurgent realm of Alfheim. Even if I do not become her husband and your vision ultimately proves false, all that matters is that she does not enter a marriage where she is used. Unappreciated. Unloved. I cannot bear to see her unloved."

"Let me think, my boy," Frigga said, doing her best to calm her son as his thoughts began to spiral picturing the bleak marriage you would have to the elven prince. And rightfully so, those images were nearly enough to make her send the visiting party home. Invoke her power and authority as Allmother in the name of doing what was best for her granddaughter and for Asgard as a whole. "I have faith that she would be capable of thwarting his attempts in the short term--"

"But what of the long term, Mother?" Loki stood from the armchair he'd slumped into minutes earlier, nearly pacing a hole into the floor from his visible anxiety. "Father seems to be determined to stave off the insurgence that the Royal Family of Alfheim has been rumored to be organizing, and an alliance between our families might just be the compromise he seeks. What if he is willing to disregard Y/N's wishes to accomplish that?"

Frigga resumed her pacing as well, a deep worry taking place in her that the peace she'd seen in her vision of your future was farther off than she'd initially thought. That the contentment and joy meant for you and Loki would serve as the end of the fight of your life. "I will do what I can do postpone any decisions of your Father that would lead to Y/N's hand being forced into this marriage. Meanwhile you, my boy, will do what you can to keep her time occupied. The less time she is around this lecherous disgrace of a prince, the better for her sanity. And yours."

"Postpone," he whined, shaking his head as he were shaking off the short-sighted intention. "We need to stop these efforts entirely--"

"And we will," the queen insisted, pulling her son into her arms. "You give me the next few days, I will find a way for us to stop this fraudulent courtship completely. I swear to you, Loki, on my life. She will not be subjected to a life unloved. She will not be relegated to a stepping stone for this urchin of a prince to ascend to the role of Allfather."

The days following Loki's panicked consultation with his mother were spent on high alert, the god's behavior dangerously leaning toward petulant as he did what he could to prevent you from spending time with the elven prince short of flat out refusing to conclude his time with you. Thankfully you seemed to be more than willing to let the behavior slide as you preferred his company rather than Prince Damien's, and you would even offer up your own thinly veiled excuses if only to lessen your time with the boy of a prince that was all too forgetful of decorum and insisted on touching you with an air of familiarity that he had not earned. And likely never would.

Today was no different, the god sequestering you in the corner of the library that you'd settled into sharing. You were all too gleefully working on the plans for the ball that would culminate the Yule festival, deciding on what would serve as the night's main event.

Meanwhile, his mother Queen Frigga had given him a specific task in their mission to thwart the courtship efforts of the crown prince of Alfheim. He was to look into the customs and traditions that would be expected of a member of the royal family of Asgard if they were to marry. The objective was to make you privy to their intentions once they had found something that could keep you in Asgard, and the three of you could put your minds together into negotiating your way out of the courtship.

Unfortunately all that he could find so far was that the only way to make a clean break from Prince Damien's efforts to marry you was to have it expressly declared by the Allfather that the courtship was concluded and any and all efforts from the Prince would no longer be welcome. And bringing Odin to this decision would take a great deal of convincing. He would have to be offered something much more irresistible than fortifying alliances between Realms and indefinitely hindering the threat of an insurgence.

No one held such ammunition. To Loki's knowledge at least. He could only hope that his mother was more fruitful in her searches.

"Would you be willing to participate in an auction?" you asked, sitting up from your slouched position from earlier while you were penning down your thoughts on various parchments. When you started to clench and unclench your fingers, Loki took your hand in his, massaging your skin in small circles, causing you to let out a satisfied sigh as you relaxed into the cushion. He had to fight back the salacious thoughts that began to infiltrate his mind, thinking of more pleasurable ways to elicit those sounds from you.

"It depends on what exactly would be up for auction, darling," he answered, pressing a fleeting kiss to your knuckles when your hand had fully relaxed in his hold.

"A night's worth of dances." You rested your head on his shoulder, your eyelids drooping when he began to stroke your hair and you fully allowed yourself to take a few breaths and relax. At least until your ever irksome suitor would burst through the doors and announce that it was time for your daily walk around the palace.

And you would have to don your collar piece that the god knew must be warmer than was necessary. All for the sake of shielding your body somehow from Damien's wandering hands.

"If it means keeping you safe from a certain elven Prince with wandering eyes and hands, I would gladly outbid--"

"No no, Loki, you misunderstand," you cut him off with a slight giggle. "The men would be up on the stage, I was asking if you would be willing to auction off your dances for the ball."

"I see," he mused, making a point to turn to a random different page on the book he was reading through to keep you from discovering what he and his mother may be up to. "If it aids in the success of the ball, then…I would be happy to."

His heart beat violently in his chest as you squealed and turned to throw your arms around him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you!" You excitedly left his embrace, his arms now feeling hauntingly empty without you in them, and wrote his name down on the parchment.  "At least I know I would be having a good bit of fun before I get shackled down and shipped off to Alfheim to do little more than sit still and look pretty," you sighed, placing your pen down on the table before slumping back into the cushion.

"Darling, if you do not wish to marry this prince, you are very much within your rights to refuse his proposal. I see how you are whenever you have to return to his company, you need not endure this attentions if you do not feel that he would be good for you," Loki attempted to console you, taking your hands in his once more, his heart fracturing at how rife with tension they were again.

"I couldn't," you argued, the furrow between your brows making an appearance as your mouth formed into a pout. "Grandfather would force my hand, tell me that this is what's good for the realm as a whole. Spew some drivel about how sometimes great leaders must make personal sacrifices for the good of their people." A tear began to roll down your cheek at the mere thought, trying to blink them away as you refocused your attention instead on the book laid open in front of him. "Loki? Why are you reading up on Asgardian bedding rituals?"

He wanted to slap himself at the section he turned to. "The information might come useful one day," he tried to wave your queries away.

"You intend to court someone?" A playful look entered your eyes before you put your hand to your temples once more, another migraine pounding away at your head.

"Norns no," he hissed almost instinctively. The only one I would ever wish to court is beyond my reach, he lamented internally, replacing your hand with his and trying to soothe you by massaging away at your temples in slow circles. He decided the best course of action was to offer you a sliver of the truth. "I'm looking into royal Asgardian marriage traditions, trying to find a way to keep you from leaving the realm if it ever comes to that."

"I will need to be dragged to the altar kicking and screaming if the Allfather forces my hand. This prince does not love me, Loki. He loves the throne that would be promised him if he were to marry me. I'd like to believe that I am worth more than a throne." The sullen tone your voice had taken on tore at his heart, making him unable to resist the urge to pull you into his arms once more in an attempt to soothe you.

"You are, Little Princess. Any fool that fails to see that does not deserve you." No one in these Realms could ever love you as I do, he thought inwardly. I would have cherished and spoiled you if I were your husband. You would have wanted for nothing.

Before either of you could say another word, the doors to the library flew open, revealing his mother on the other side, an excitement in her expression as her gaze roamed the area before landing on the two of you. A soft smile graced her features finding you resting comfortably in your fated's arms.

"My son, I may have found something. Come with me." She jerked her head in the direction of her workroom before turning her gaze to address you. "Granddaughter, a certain elven prince is bounding his way down the halls to steal you away from your present company." You let out an unrestrained chortle at the face the Queen made after her statement, clearly disapproving of Damien herself. "How goes the planning for the Yule festival?"

"Progressing quite nicely, Grandmother," you responded, removing yourself from Loki's embrace and putting away your parchments, gathering everything into a satchel before standing upright. "The culminating ball will make for quite the night, if everything goes according to plan. We are to have an auction. Proceeds will go into funding for new weapons for soldiers old and new alike."

He stood from his seat, taking out the collar piece from inside your satchel bag and helping you into the garment. Your eyes had a bleakness in them as he framed your face in his hands, placing a light kiss to your forehead. He slipped his dagger into your bag, whispering a rather mischievous offer against your skin. "If he behaves in a way that renders you uncomfortable, you could always use that on him and say it was me if you are questioned. Stay safe, Little Princess. I love you."

You briefly wrapped your arms around him before muttering back, "I love you, too." You took a step back, mustering a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "How do I look?"

"Your smile could convince just about any audience, perhaps in another life you were made for the stage," he quipped, briefly touching his hand to your chin. "You can't quite fool me, however."

"Of course I can't." You scrunched your nose at him. "You know me far too well, Loki." You smoothed your hands over your dress and turned to face the door, squaring your shoulders ever so slightly, as if preparing to assume a warrior's stance. When Loki turned his gaze to the door he could see exactly why; the Prince was already waiting for you a few feet away from the Queen, jaw visibly tense.

And because of the god's enhanced senses from his Jotun blood, he could hear the impudent prince grinding away at his teeth. No doubt brought on from seeing that once again you were spending time with someone that he deemed 'competition' for your hand.

The elven prince offered his arm to you once enough distance had been closed, the muscles in his face tensing even worse when you maintained your stance, leaving his arm empty. He opted instead to place a hand at your lower back,  holding on to you a touch too tight that it caused you to visibly tense and flinch when his fingers dug into your side.

Loki hadn't even realized he was about to approach you to offer his aid somehow until he felt his mother grab hold of his elbow with a firm yet gentle hand. "If we wish to help her completely, then we must have faith she can hold her own in this moment. Soon enough she will be free of his advances." She gave him a gentle tug in the opposite direction. "We must go now, my boy. You will have much to think about once I tell you what I have found."

He took one final glance back at you, your fist clenched behind your back as Damien walked you farther and farther away from him, and he attempted to reach out to you with his mind. Hoping you would hear his sentiment. "If he ever hurts you, little princess, you call for me. Call for me and I will be there for you in a heartbeat."

Once they'd made their way to Frigga's workroom, he could no longer hold in his words, blurting out his question with little control over the volume of his voice. Or his frantic tone.

"What have you found, Mother? Tell me how we can save Y/N from--"

"You could marry her instead." His eyes widened to the size of saucers at how she chose to lead with her findings, eyeing his mother with thinly-veiled incredulity. "I have combed through every possible scenario that held even a sliver of a chance to get Odin to repudiate his intention to strengthen the alliance between Asgard and Alfheim, and in my search I chanced upon your reports. From your mission that kept you away from us for nearly a millennium."

"My reports?" he parroted lamely. "But those merely stated that the people of the Nine held less faith in our house's power to rule, what help could that offer us in this predicament?"

"If Odin seeks to arrange a marriage for Y/N that will fortify her claim to the throne, then perhaps the only way is to offer him something that would yield a stronger claim," she offered, walking towards her son when he slumped down into his usual armchair and grasping his hands in hers. "If you use your reports to reason with him that this marriage will be more beneficial to the realm than a union with Prince Damien, we can save her from this sham of a marriage he intends for her."

"Father will not so simply agree to this, Mother," the god argued, his mind already firing off scenario after scenario wherein Odin would reject this proposal outright. He'd fought so ardently to ensure that all generations of the royal family that succeeded him would no longer have to adhere to the archaic traditions, and now here he and his mother were, looking for a way to return them somehow. "For him to agree to a negotiation like this, I would need to offer him something in return."

"And what would you have to offer that could hold a similar value to a quelling of an imminent insurgence, my boy?"

Loki ran through everything he could potentially offer for your hand, searching frantically for something that symbolized a significant enough loss on his part that perhaps it would satisfy the Allfather. Nothing of monetary value would suffice, and he would never wish to make it seem from any potential angle that he was buying your freedom.

He held no title other than God of Mischief; he was no crown prince, he had no clear path to the throne. At least until his impending duel with Thor, assuming that the most unlikely of scenarios would occur and he would win over his larger, stronger warrior of a brother.

And then it hit him.

"My claim to the throne," he sighed, feeling a sliver of hope that perhaps this might actually work. "I could surrender my claim as Odin's heir. Cancel the duel between me and Thor so that we may never have to shed the other's blood on the battlefield." He looked to his mother, a calm smile gracing her features as she let her pride shine through. "You already came to this conclusion, haven't you, Mother?"

She walked over to her desk, signaling for her son to follow so that she may show him the parchments in which she penned down her findings. There were the words, by her own hand. Loki's surrender in exchange for Y/N's hand. "I needed you to come to the decision yourself, my son," she explained to him. "Surrendering your chance at becoming crown prince is something you cannot take back. Something that thwarts any ambition you may have to become Allfather yourself."

"What value would a throne have for me if I won that duel?" he spat out, hot tears stinging his eyes as he picture what his life would be like. "My brother would be dead by my hand, Asgard's people carrying a burning hatred for me for slaying their beloved prince. Y/N would hate me for taking her father away from her. And my heart would forever be burdened with guilt for Thor's death, and the crippling knowledge that the woman I love is living a bleak life married to someone who views her as little more than a plaything he could discard and betray time and time again. She is worth more to me than a chance at the throne."

He felt his resolve strengthening with every passing moment, already crafting the words he would use from the moment he announced his surrender to his negotiations to become your husband. He knew the words to utter and when; this was his domain, his words a weapon he wielded with the same mastery as he did his magic and his daggers.

But there was one simple fact that weighed heavy on his heart. He was about to lay out his heart on the table for everyone to know. Including you.

And you…you didn't return these affections. You never had. And you realizing his true feelings toward you would ruin your image of him forever, tainting every single memory you two shared.

"She would despise me," he choked out, clenching his fists shut as his eyes filled with tears. "She will know how I have loved her since the beginning and she will loathe me."

"But she will be safe," Frigga insisted, reaching for her son's hand again. "She will be safe and she will remain here in Asgard. With a husband that loves her, that will not shackle her to such a base and primitive purpose." She seemed as if she were about to say more, but decided against it, pursing her lips instead. "Remember what I told you before, Loki. You two are fated. Marriage was always in your future, I just…" She let out a deep sigh. "I just never imagined that this was how we would arrive at this point."

Tears began to fall from his eyes, already bracing himself to burden your hatred of him for what he was about to do. The life he was about to choose for you. "If having her hate me for the rest of our days is the price I must pay to keep her safe from a wretch like that Prince Damien, then so be it."

With those words he strode out of the Queen's workroom. And as soon as he left, Queen Frigga scrambled through every grimoire in her possession, looking for a way to lift the spell that veiled your memories herself.

Loki blazed down the halls of the palace, looking for his brother and his father, finally finding them in deep discussion in one of the war rooms. His loud bursting into the room caused both men to jump slightly at the sound.

"Ah, Brother, perfect timing," Thor addressed him, a grim tone in his voice as he motioned for him to take a seat. "Father has decided that it is time for us to discuss the ceremony that shall appoint his heir."

"There's no need for that anymore, Brother." He made his way to the seat across from the blond god, doing his best to remain the picture of calm and collected. In truth he was a mixed bag of emotions, each so strong that he could feel himself being pulled in vastly different directions and if he failed to control himself it would tear him into pieces from the inside out.

"And why is there no longer a need for this discussion, Loki?" Odin prodded, back ramrod straight in anticipation for what might come next.

"Because I relinquish my claim to the throne of Asgard."

A/N: Besties omg omg omg we are heeeeeeeere 😳👀 When I tell you I got literal chills writing that last line holy fuckque things are gonna be changing from here on, we're finally in the events of the 6k word shoulda been a drabble piece that I wrote over a year ago and Reader's attitude toward Loki is about to be hugely different 🥺

Only two more chapters until Season 1 is finished and then we're heading off into the angst-fest that is Season 2 😳

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover

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comments roundup on Arteice's vid

Frankly, it’s pretty upsetting that Stolas acts like a victim just because he was raised with royal blood and is a hypocrite when he dismisses Blitzo like he’s one of his servants

^This person makes an excellent point, actually. Blitzo specifically calls Stolas out for treating him like a butler - an inferior - and instead of wanting to apologize or offer discuss it with him at a later date when his emotions are running less high, Stolas just evicts Blitzo from his house using magic, essentially dismissing him. It's giving royal "remove him from my sight" sort of vibes - insead of rectifying the behavior Stolas just proved Blitzo's point (again). I guess at this point we should be glad the writers had the comment sense not to have Stolas squeeze Blitzo like a stress ball until his eyes popped

How much of a bad writer do you have to be when you make a character so unsympathetic and unlikable that fans convince themselves that it was intentional to make him come across as this much of a narcissistic abuser. Yes I’m sure Viv wants you to see Stolas, the guy who cries constantly and even has a music video about how sad and in love he is, who constantly has excuses thrown his way for his behavior like neglecting Via and having power over Blitzo, who was literally retconned in season 2’s premiere episode to be some naive lovesick idiot with a wife so comically abusive the best photos they could take of her was her choking puppies. That Stolas.

Well,I have to agree. Stolas really needs to take the L,get his shit together and stop always always victimizing himself seriously.

Stolas is victimizing Blitz, Blitz couldn't consent. All that sex they were having made Stolas a monster, then Stolas cries BECAUSE Blitz didn't fetishize or romanticise the abuse the way Stolas did

Thank you for standing up for blitz, stolas is unbearable at this Point

Since watching the Sarcastic Chorus breakdown of the episode, I can say that I am holding onto a sliver of hope that the hypocracy is intentional and will be developed upon soon. However, I can't lie that while watching the confrontation in Full Moon, I was become more and more irate at the idea that Stolas sings about the break-up in the next episode. They better call him on his bullshit SIGNIFICANTLY. Although that may be just me relating to Blitz more than Stolas rn.

What made this inevitable for me is the fact that Stolas is kind of placing all his eggs in one basket by relying on Blitz for his happiness. He seems to believe that if they get together, it’ll magically solve all his problems such as his faltering relationship with Octavia, and the threat of the Goetia bearing their full weight down on him. To me it felt also like he was testing Blitz by seeing what kind of reaction he would have by being freed from their contract. He’s placing a lot of expectation on someone who is never going to be able to live up to what’s being asked of him

Stolas got that "21 year old closeted gay college Student trying to discover his sexuality" vibes, you know what i'm sayin'? The thing is… he's a grown ass man in his mid to late 30s with a daughter. He needs to grow up

Posting this sanity now so we can all fortify ourselves for what's coming tomorrow morning.