#so clearly some kind of brain damage happened

[pucksandpower]

What Happens in Vegas

Max Verstappen x Red Bull driver!Reader

Summary: the morning after the Las Vegas Grand Prix, you wake up with one new wedding ring and zero clue about what happened … or who your husband is

You wake up with a pounding headache, the sunlight filtering through the curtains feeling like daggers in your eyes. Groaning, you roll over and glance at the clock on the nightstand.

12:37 pm.

Far later than you would normally sleep, but given the circumstances, not entirely surprising.

The night before was the Las Vegas Grand Prix and things had gotten a little out of hand afterwards. Okay, more like a lot out of hand.

The details are fuzzy but you vaguely recall dancing on a table at some point and did someone get pushed into the hotel fountain?

Ugh. You make a mental note to apologize to whoever ended up taking an unexpected late-night swim last night.

Sitting up slowly, you rub your temples, trying to ease the jackhammer currently going off in your head. Getting blackout drunk maybe wasn’t the most professional move, but hey, what happens in Vegas and all that.

You stumble into the bathroom, turning on the faucet and splashing some cold water on your face. As you reach for a towel, the glint of metal on your left hand makes you pause.

No. It can’t be.

But there it is, a simple gold band around your ring finger.

A wedding ring.

Your wedding ring, apparently.

“What the hell?” You mutter, staring at your reflection in disbelief.

You rack your brain, trying desperately to remember what happened last night. But it’s no use, the details are lost in an alcohol-induced haze.

You married someone last night. In Vegas. While ridiculously drunk.

This is bad. Really bad.

Your career, your reputation, everything is on the line here. Who knows what kind of scandal this could cause if word got out? You need to figure out who you married and do damage control, fast.

Taking a deep breath, you try to calm the rising panic. Freaking out won’t solve anything right now. You need answers and sitting here panicking won’t get you any. Time to do some investigating.

You quickly throw on some clothes and head downstairs to the hotel lobby. The drivers had agreed to meet for brunch today before getting thoroughly wasted last night. Maybe one of them knows something.

As you step out of the elevator, you immediately spot a group of your friends chatting in the lobby. Max, Charles, Lando … the usual suspects.

Lando is the first to spot you. “Well good morning, Mrs. Lando Norris,” he says with a cheeky grin.

You freeze. No way. There’s no way you married Lando. The kid is like a little brother to you. An obnoxious, hyperactive little brother. But Lando just laughs at your stunned expression.

“Kidding! You should see your face right now,” he giggles. Little punk. But at least that rules out Lando as your surprise husband.

You roll your eyes and shove Lando playfully before turning to the others. “So, crazy night last night, huh?” You say, aiming for nonchalance.

Max shrugs. “I mean, it’s Vegas. Things do tend to get wild.”

“Right, wild,” you echo. Time to cut to the chase. “So wild that I ended up getting married apparently.”

You hold up your left hand, wedding ring glinting in the light. The others stare at it then at each other, puzzled.

“Wait, you actually got married last night?” Charles asks incredulously.

You throw your hands up in exasperation. “Yes! And I have no idea who I married. Come on mates, you must remember something from last night that can help me figure this out.”

But their faces are blank, everyone shaking their heads. Useless, the whole lot of them.

You turn to Max, who averts his eyes, looking uncomfortable.

“Max, come on. You always know everything that happens on these nights out. Help me out here,” you plead.

Max shuffles his feet, not meeting your gaze. “I mean, it was pretty crazy. I was very drunk too,” he mumbles.

You sigh in frustration. Clearly you’re not getting anywhere with this group. You need to try someone else, someone who maybe left the party early last night.

You recall Fernando complaining about the horrible music at one point. Bingo.

“Alright, I gotta go see if I can find someone who can get me answers,” you announce. “You drunkards are no help.”

As you turn to leave, Charles calls after you, “Let us know if you find out who the unlucky guy is!” This earns snickers from Lando and Max.

You shake your head and head out to find Fernando. That Spaniard better have some useful information or there will be hell to pay.

One thing is certain, you will get to the bottom of this. You need to find out who this mystery husband is, sort out this mess, and most importantly, get this ring off your finger before the media catches wind of your drunken Vegas wedding.

This is going to be one hell of a day.

***

After leaving the unhelpful group in the lobby, you set out to find Fernando. The Spaniard has always had a keen eye for details. If anyone saw what happened last night, it would be him.

You find Fernando sitting alone at a table in the closest coffee shop, sipping an espresso. He looks irritatingly fresh-faced and put together given the wild night you all had.

“Well good morning, chiquita,” he says with a smirk as you plop down across from him. “You look like you had quite the night.”

You scowl at him. “No thanks to you. Leaving the party early again, I see.”

Fernando shrugs. “What can I say? I’m getting too old for these Vegas nights out with you crazy kids.”

You roll your eyes dramatically. “Oh yes, grandpa, you’re soooo old at 42. Anyway, I need your help figuring something out.”

You hold up your left hand, the wedding ring glinting under the lights. “Any idea how this might have ended up on my finger last night?”

Fernando raises an eyebrow, looking far too amused. “Well well, our little Y/N got married in Vegas. Who’s the lucky man?”

You huff in annoyance. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out! I don’t remember anything from last night. But I woke up this morning hungover as hell with this on my hand.” You waggle your finger for emphasis.

Fernando sits back, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, interesting. And you say you remember nothing?”

“Nothing!” You exclaim, throwing your hands up. “Everything after the third tequila shot is a total blank. Please tell me you saw something that can help me out here.”

You give Fernando your best pleading puppy dog eyes but the Spanish driver just shakes his head.

“Sadly, I did not witness this alleged wedding. I turned in early, unlike you wild youths.”

You groan and let your head fall to the table. “This is bad, Fernando. Really bad. I could lose my seat over this if the team finds out I pulled a stunt like this. I need to figure out who I married!"

Fernando pats your head condescendingly. “There there, I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think. Your secret is safe with me.”

You peer up at him suspiciously. “Just how secret is this? The smirk on your face makes me think you know something.”

The smirk widens. “Maybe I know something, maybe I don’t. But I’m not going to spoil the surprise for you.”

“Nando!” You smack his arm as he laughs. “This isn’t funny! Just tell me who I married!”

“Nope,” he says, popping the P obnoxiously. “It is too entertaining watching you squirm.”

You let out a frustrated growl. “You’re the worst. I don’t know why I bothered asking you for help.”

“Because you love me, that’s why,” Fernando says with a cheeky wink.

You can’t help but smile a bit at that. You’ve always had a bit of a soft spot for the menace.

“Ugh fine, keep your secrets,” you concede. “I’ll figure this out without your help.”

You start to stand up but Fernando stops you. “Leaving so soon? Stay, have some breakfast with me. You’re going to need your energy today.”

Your stomach rumbles at the mention of food so you sink back down into your seat. “I guess I could eat something while I plot my next move.”

A waiter comes by and you order a massive plate of food to soak up the alcohol still swimming in your system. As you tuck into your meal, you notice Fernando watching you from across the table, looking thoughtful.

“You know,” he says. “Whoever you ended up marrying ... they are a very lucky man. Underneath this hungover mess, you have a good heart. Don’t be too hard on yourself over one wild night, eh?”

You pause mid-bite, touched by his sincerity. “Thanks, Nando. That really means a lot coming from you.”

He smiles and squeezes your hand briefly before returning to his coffee. The playful twinkle returns to his eye. “Even if you did get married like an idiot last night.”

You snort. “Wow, thanks. Way to ruin the moment there.”

Fernando shrugs, unrepentant. “What can I say? I live to annoy you, little sister.”

You finish up your meal, feeling slightly better with some food in you. As frustrating as that encounter was, at least you can count on Fernando to keep this quiet. Time to go gather more clues.

You stand and point an accusatory finger at Fernando. “This isn’t over. I will get to the bottom of this mystery marriage!”

Fernando just smiles enigmatically. “I have no doubt. Good luck, Mrs. Whatever Your New Last Name Is.”

You stick your tongue out at him maturely and flounce away. That man is infuriating. But the quest continues. Time to find the next driver on your interrogation list.

***

You decide to try your luck with Daniel next. The Aussie partied hard but he’s also a notorious gossip. Maybe he caught wind of something that can point you in the right direction.

You find Daniel lounging by the pool, sunglasses on, basking in the Vegas sun like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

So unfair.

“Hello there, sunshine,” he drawls as you walk up. “Don’t you look fresh as a daisy this fine day.”

You glare at him from behind your own sunglasses. “Stuff it, Ricciardo. I’m only here because I need information from you.”

Daniel gasps, clutching his chest dramatically. “You wound me! Here I thought we were friends.”

“We are friends,” you roll your eyes. “When you’re not being a pain in my ass.”

“A pain in that fine ass of yours? Perish the thought!”

You smack him lightly upside the head and he chuckles. “Alright alright, what do you need from old mate Daniel?”

You plop down in the lounge chair next to him and hold up your left hand. “I need you to tell me anything you know or can remember about how this got on my finger last night.”

Daniel lets out a low whistle. “Well tickle me pink and call me Sheila, Y/N’s gone and got herself hitched in Vegas!”

You shush him frantically. “Keep your voice down! The last thing I need is for this to get out.”

Looking far too delighted by the situation, Daniel leans in conspiratorially. “Right, top secret and all that. Who’s the lucky fella then?”

You sigh. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Everything after we moved on to OMNIA is a total blackout. Please tell me you know something.”

Daniel taps his chin thoughtfully. “Let me think here ... I may have some recollection of the night’s events.”

You perk up. “Yes? Go on then, tell me!”

“I do seem to remember ...” he pauses theatrically, “... that I was your very own ring bearer for the occasion!”

Your face falls. “Seriously? That’s all you’ve got?”

Daniel grins cheekily. “What can I say, it was a beautiful ceremony. I was truly honored to be part of it.”

You smack his arm. “You’re no help at all! Come on, I’m desperate here.”

Daniel laughs and puts up his hands. “Alright, alright, I’m just having a bit of fun with ya. Truth is, I was as pissed as the rest of you lot last night. Don’t remember much myself.”

You sigh. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.

Daniel must take pity on your crestfallen face because he places a hand on your shoulder. “Chin up, Y/N. So you got a little wild in Vegas, it happens. I’m sure you’ll get it all sorted out.”

You nod but can’t keep the worry from your face. “I know, it’s just ... this could really screw things up if anyone finds out. I don’t even know who I married!”

“Well then it’s a good thing you’ve got the Honey Badger on the case!” He proclaims cheerfully. “I may not have the details but I’ll sniff around and ask some questions on the down low.”

You smile gratefully. “I appreciate that. Hopefully someone around here knows something.”

Daniel pops to his feet and offers you a hand. “Too right! Now come on, up you get. Let’s go scrounge up some greasy food and hair of the dog for that hangover, eh?”

You let Daniel pull you to your feet, feeling bolstered by his positivity.

As you head towards the sports bar in search of a burger and fries, Daniel slings an arm around your shoulder. “Cheer up! This’ll make for one hell of a story someday. It might even become a Grill The Grid trivia question.”

Despite everything, you have to laugh. Trust Daniel to look for the bright side.

But you still can’t ignore the uneasy feeling in your stomach. You married someone last night. For real. It’s not just some random hookup you can laugh off. There’s a living, breathing person out there who you pledged your life to and you don’t even know their name.

What kind of person did drunk Y/N choose as a life partner? Are they worried about this too? Or are they some opportunistic sleaze looking to take advantage of you?

You shake your head, realizing Daniel is watching you with a quizzical look. No use speculating. Just keep searching for answers, one driver at a time.

***

After saying goodbye to Daniel, you set off in search of Lewis. As the life of every party, surely he has to know the details of your wild night.

You eventually track him down just outside the hotel, walking his beloved bulldog. Lewis grins when he sees you approaching.

“Ah the bride awakens at last! We were wondering when you’d emerge,” he says with a chuckle.

You roll your eyes. “News sure travels fast. I’m guessing Nando blabbed?”

Lewis shakes his head. “When you have an impromptu wedding in the middle of a rager in Vegas, people are going to talk.”

You wince, dreading how far word of this has already spread. But that’s a problem for later. Right now, you need information.

“About that ...” you say. “I don’t suppose you happen to know who I ended up marrying last night?”

Lewis’ grin widens. “Now what kind of best man would I be if I spilled the beans?”

You stare at him in shock. “Best man? You were there?”

“But of course!” Lewis declares. “Had to lend my impeccable fashion sense for your dress. Pulled some strings with a stylist I know and got you all hooked up last minute.”

Your mind is reeling. You got married in an actual wedding dress? This just gets worse and worse.

You wrack your brain trying to picture it. But you have zero memory of any dress. Lewis must read the confusion on your face.

“Don’t worry, I had it safely delivered to your room after you started taking it off in the middle of the club. Though I’m guessing you were in no state to keep track of it,” he chuckles.

You shake your head, still stunned. “I didn’t see any dress in my room. What did you do with it?”

Lewis taps his chin. “You know, I did pop in this morning to check on you but you were still passed out cold. So I had the dress boxed up and sent off to be preserved and framed as a gift.”

He crouches down to scratch Roscoe behind the ears. “That’s from me and this good boy right here. Couldn’t let such a work of art go to waste!”

You’re touched in spite of yourself. “That’s really sweet, thank you. But I would really rather just know who I married right now.”

Lewis stands back up and wags his finger. “Ah ah ah, where’s the fun in that? This is the most entertainment we’ve had all season!”

You groan as Lewis laughs. “Come on, Lew. Have mercy and put me out of my misery here.”

But Lewis just zips his mouth. “My lips are sealed! Don’t you worry though, he’s a great guy. You’ve got my stamp of approval.”

You cross your arms in frustration. Of course Lewis would drag this out like a sitcom. But his clue gives you pause.

“He’s a great guy,” Lewis said. So your mystery spouse is someone Lewis personally knows and actually approves of. That narrows it down a bit.

Lewis gives you an apologetic smile and checks his watch. “I’d best be off. But don’t worry, you’ll figure this out!” He tosses a wink over his shoulder as he saunters away with Roscoe in tow.

You watch them go, mind spinning.

Lewis doesn’t just compliment anyone. So apparently drunk Y/N didn’t marry a total disaster. That’s something at least.

You absently twist the wedding band around your finger. You wish you could remember anything about him, about what happened between you.

Did you have a beautiful ceremony? Exchange heartfelt vows? Share a magical first dance as spouses?

You shake your head ruefully. If so, what a shame not to remember any of it. Here’s hoping that this “great guy” turns out to be someone who can make you fall in love all over again ...

***

You decide on a new approach — find the person who actually married you and your husband last night. Whoever officiated the ceremony must know the identity of your mystery groom.

The only problem is, you have no idea who that could be. It’s not like Vegas chapels employ actual priests or judges to perform marriages. It was probably just some random person licensed to perform marriages.

You start making the rounds of the chapels on the Strip, showing your ring and asking if anyone remembers you coming in during the night. But you have no luck — most of the chapels you try to check in with aren’t even open yet, catering to the drunk impulsive crowd that comes out after dark.

After hours of fruitless searching, you plop down on a bench in front of the Venetian, racking your brain for what to try next.

A group of women in matching Bride Tribe shirts walk by, laughing and chatting in that way only tipsy daytime bachelorettes can.

One of them pauses as they pass and calls out to you. “Hey hun, you look down. Guy trouble?” She gestures to your ring.

You debate waving her off but then reconsider. Maybe a bachelorette party would know their way around the Vegas wedding scene.

“Yeah, you could say that,” you reply. “I’m trying to find the person who married me last night but it was a bit of a ... wild impromptu thing. I don’t even know where it happened.”

The women gasp excitedly. “Oh my god, a drunk Vegas wedding? That’s epic!” Says the one in the rhinestoned Bride To Be sash.

“Epic disaster more like,” you mutter but can’t help smiling. Their enthusiasm is infectious.

The bride puts her arm around you. “Don’t worry sweetie, we’ll help you sort this out! I know all the best chapels.” She turns to her posse. “Ladies, let’s help her track down her mystery hubby!”

You find yourself swept up in the bachelorettes’ mission to assist you. After barraging you with questions about the wedding (“Please tell me you at least had a cute dress?” “Oooh was it Elvis themed?”), they decide that the most likely chapel was The Little Vegas Wedding Chapel off the north end of the Strip.

You all pile into their pink party bus and soon pull up at the aforementioned chapel. The receptionist greets you with a smile. “Welcome ladies! Who’s the lucky bride today?”

The girls nudge you forward. You clear your throat awkwardly. “Well actually, I’m trying to find out if I was a bride here last night.” You show her your ring. “I don’t remember much but I know I got married. I was hoping you might have a record?”

The receptionist types away on her computer, then frowns. “Hmm doesn’t look like we had any late night weddings yesterday. Our last was at 10 pm.”

You sigh but thank her anyway. So much for that idea. At least the bachelorettes are still upbeat as you climb back on their bus.

“No luck there but it was still a fun adventure!” The bride-to-be seems to have all the enthusiasm in the world.

You nod, grateful for their attempts to help. As the bus starts moving, the bride gasps.

“Wait, girls, I think I know where we need to go!” She turns to you excitedly. “There’s this little all-night chapel down on Fremont Street. Our friend Val got married there on a total whim a few years ago and she said it was fabulous!”

A chorus of squeals greets this news. You aren’t sure this is a solid lead, but hey, it’s not like you have any better ideas.

“Alright, let’s give it a shot!”

Twenty minutes later you’re climbing out of the bus in front of a small chapel with a neon 24 Hour Weddings sign. Taking a deep breath, you push through the door into the kitschy Vegas-themed space.

At the front counter is an older man in an Elvis costume that must be at least a size too small. Bingo. You hurry over and show him your ring.

“By any chance did you marry me and some guy last night?”

The Elvis impersonator peers at you for a moment before his face lights up in recognition. “Well slap me sideways, you’re the lovely lady I helped get hitched last night! What a shindig that was!”

Your heart leaps. Finally a lead! “Yes that was me! Do you by chance have a record of who I married?”

Elvis frowns. “You mean you don’t remember the young fella? He was real handsome, said some mighty sweet vows if I recall correctly.”

You shake your head in frustration. So close and yet so far.

Elvis pats your arm. “No worries darling, old Elvis remembers. I gotcha hitched to ...”

You lean forward eagerly as Elvis taps his chin, racking his memory.

“Now let’s see ... young fella you married. He was oh ... a bit taller than you I’d say. Had one of them European accents — German, Swedish, or somethin’ like that. Brown hair I think. A pretty good lookin’ chap. Dressed real sharp too.”

Your heart sinks as Elvis delivers the extremely vague description. Brown hair and a little over your height? Well that only narrows it down to about half of the paddock!

You groan and smack your forehead in frustration. So close! Elvis gives you an apologetic look.

“Aw shucks, wish I could tell ya more little lady. But I was croonin’ so many love songs last night that all you couples started to blend together.”

You force a smile, knowing he did try his best. “That’s alright, I appreciate you checking for me.”

Back outside, you fill in the eager bachelorettes on Elvis’ less than helpful clues. Their excitement deflates a bit.

“Dang, that could be like, anyone!” One says, voicing your thoughts exactly.

The bride-to-be squeezes your shoulder. “Don’t worry hun, we’ll keep thinking! Your mystery man is out there somewhere.”

You give her a grateful hug. “Thanks ladies, for all your help today. I should probably get back to my hotel and keep investigating.”

The gaggle of girls walks you back to the bus, firing off more wild theories about your potential groom.

“Oooh what if it’s that sexy Spanish driver … Alfonso?” Suggests the bridesmaid named Amy.

“It’s Alonso,” you correct with a laugh. She may be way off but you appreciate the enthusiasm.

As you say goodbye to your new friends, your mind is spinning once again. So Elvis confirmed this wedding really happened, though his clues weren’t particularly enlightening.

But he did say one thing — whoever you married gave sweet vows. So apparently in your drunken state, you picked someone who could be sincere and romantic.

That has to count for something, right?

You glance down at the wedding ring on your finger, the physical reminder of the huge secret you’re unraveling. Did you really promise to spend your life with someone here of all places? And do they plan on holding you to that promise?

Your gut twists with anxiety but also a trace of curiosity. Who is this mystery man who can make drunken Elvis shed a sentimental tear?

Whoever he is, you’re going to find him.

***

Exhausted after a day of fruitless searching, you decide to head back to your hotel to regroup. You slump down onto one of the plush couches in the crowded lobby, mind still spinning over the bizarre situation you’ve found yourself in.

Who exactly did you end up pledging eternal devotion to in your drunken stupor last night? So far your quest to unravel this mystery marriage has led nowhere.

But you can’t rest yet. You need answers.

As you sit there contemplating your next move, your phone starts blowing up with Twitter notifications. You blink in surprise. Must be big news dropping for this much activity.

You open the app and nearly swallow your tongue when you see the top trending hashtag: #Y/NMaxWedding.

Your stomach drops to your feet.

No no no, this cannot be happening!

But with a sense of impending doom, you click on the hashtag. Immediately you see the bombshell that has sent your world into a tailspin.

It’s a tweet from a fan account, featuring photos they somehow obtained of a Clark County Nevada marriage certificate between you ... and Max Verstappen. Your teammate.

You stare slack-jawed at the images of the official document signed by you and Max as spouses, clear as day. Your drunken Vegas escapade isn’t a secret anymore. It’s public record, blasted all over social media.

Numb with shock, you scroll through countless tweets analyzing, freaking out over, and cracking jokes about you and Max’s surprise nuptials. Some fans are outraged. Others seem delighted at this bombshell gossip.

You groan, head in your hands. This is an absolute disaster. What was merely a drunken mistake is now immortalized online. There’s no hiding it or hoping it will blow over quietly.

You married Max freaking Verstappen in Vegas. The sometimes arrogant and standoffish but always crazy talented driver you’re teammates with. No wonder he was acting so squirrelly this morning when you asked about the wedding.

Some logical part of your brain knows you need to talk to Max, start figuring out what to do for damage control. But the overwhelmed emotional side just wants to crawl under a rock and hide.

In a daze, you make your way up to your suite. Once inside, you toss your phone onto the bed, not even bothering to read the likely hundreds of texts blowing it up. You are in no state of mind to talk to your manager or team right now.

Collapsing onto the couch, you stare blankly at the wall, feeling numb. Despite all your investigating, a part of you still hoped that maybe it wasn’t real. Maybe the ring and certificate were just part of some elaborate prank.

But there’s no denying it now. You’re well and truly married to Max Verstappen.

A hysterical laugh bubbles out of you. Of all the drivers, of course you had end up with him. Max, your fiercest rival, constantly pushing you to be better. The teammate who drives you crazy but also loves to compete with you and rile you up.

God, your friends are never going to let you live this down. Married to Max. It’s like some cheesy fanfiction brought to life.

You glance over at your silent phone. The logical part of your brain knows you need to call him. You’re going to have to talk about this and figure out what the hell to do next.

But the overwhelmed part wants to put that conversation off indefinitely. You need time to process the bombshell that just upended your life before you can face Max.

Your inner debate is interrupted by a knock at your door. You freeze. No doubt it’s the Red Bull PR team come to scold you or paparazzi looking for a comment on your no-longer-a-secret marriage. Well you have nothing to say to them!

“Go away!” You yell but the knocking persists. With an irritated huff, you wrench open the door, fully prepared to give whoever’s there a piece of your mind.

Instead, you come face to face with the person you least expected but probably most needed to see. Max stands in your doorway, sheepish and awkward.

For several tense beats, you just stare at each other, the weight of this life-altering moment hanging between you.

Finally Max breaks the silence. “So ... quite a day, huh?” He gives an uneasy chuckle.

You continue gaping at him, stunned into silence. Max shuffles his feet, not quite meeting your eyes.

“Can I uh, come in? I think maybe we should talk.”

Wordlessly, you step aside and let him enter the suite. Max perches on the edge of an armchair while you sink onto the couch. More tense silence.

Max clears his throat. “So I’m guessing you’ve seen it?”

You nod mutely. Max sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

“Look, Y/N ... I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. But I woke up just as confused as you this morning. Wasn’t totally sure it was even real.”

He hesitates then continues softly. “You were pretty out of it last night. We all were. Getting hitched was obviously crazy but I guess it seemed fun in the moment.”

You shake your head, finding your voice at last. “This goes way beyond fun, Max! We’re married! Actually married!" Your voice edges up hysterically on the last word.

“Yes it was a ... crazy night,” Max laughs nervously.

You scoff bitterly. “That’s putting it mildly. I’d say a drunken Vegas wedding to my teammate counts as more than just crazy!"

Max winces at your tone. “Look Y/N, I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. But we were all wasted last night. I didn’t even remember at first—”

You cut him off sharply. “Well I don’t remember any of it! As far as I’m concerned, this so-called marriage never even happened.”

You begin pacing. “We need to get this annulled immediately before things get worse. It was clearly an idiotic mistake.”

Max frowns, looking hurt. “Whoa, no need to be so harsh. It may have been drunken impulse but ... maybe it was also fate.”

You stop pacing and stare at him incredulously. “Fate? Are you insane?”

He stands and steps towards you. “Hear me out. We’ve been teammates for years now. Maybe deep down we both wanted this.”

Your jaw drops open. Max keeps going.

“I know it’s crazy but what if this marriage was meant to be? We owe it to ourselves to give this a real shot before bailing.”

You gaze at him in disbelief. Is he seriously suggesting ...

“Give this a real shot?” You repeat faintly.

Max takes your hands earnestly. “Yes! We’ve always made a great team on track. Just imagine how great we would be together off track too.”

You open your mouth to argue but Max presses on. “Plus, my children need a mother.”

You yank your hands back in shock. “Children? You have kids?”

“Well, not human kids,” Max admits sheepishly. “But my cats, Jimmy and Sassy! They need a maternal influence.”

Your head spins as you try to keep up with Max’s ramblings. Is he pranking you right now?

He fixes you with his most charming smile. “Come on, wifey. Just give it a chance! We’re clearly compatible if drunk us wanted to get married.”

You stare at him like he sprouted a second head. Max gazes back hopefully. His smile really is kind of adorable ...

No! Snap out of it! This is crazy.

But he does raise some valid points. And backing out now would cause an even bigger scandal ...

You slump down onto the couch with a groan. “Fine! We’ll stay married for now. But we explain to the team it was just drunken foolishness.”

Max pumps his fist. “Yes! See, we’re already compromising with each other. It’s like we’re meant to be husband and wife!”

That finally breaks through your haze of shock. Oh god ... you have to tell Christian Horner that you married Max Verstappen.

***

You take a deep breath as you stand outside Christian’s hotel suite, arm raised to knock. “Ready for this?” You ask Max.

He grimaces. “Ready as I’ll ever be. Might as well get it over with.”

You steel your nerves and rap sharply on the door. After a moment, it swings open to reveal Christian mid-yawn.

“Y/N, Max, to what do I owe the pleasure?” He asks curiously.

You shuffle your feet, not sure how to start. “Uh, hey Christian. Max and I have something we need to discuss with you. Mind if we come in for a minute?”

Christian narrows his eyes but steps aside to let you both in. “What’s this about? I just got off a conference call with the factory team in Milton Keynes and I was finally planning to try my luck with the slots downstairs.”

You perch awkwardly on the edge of an armchair while Max stands next to you stiffly.

How do you even begin to break this kind of news to your boss?

“So Christian, funny story ...” you start lamely.

Max jumps in, deciding to just rip the bandaid off. “We got married last night.”

Christian’s eyes widen comically. For a long moment he just looks between you two like you each have three heads. Then he throws his head back and laughs heartily.

“Good one guys, you almost had me there! Trying to pull one over on your poor old team principal, very funny,” he chuckles, wiping his eyes.

You give a weak smile. “No uh, we’re actually being serious. We got married for real last night.”

Max nods. “It just sort of ... happened.”

Christian collapses onto the sectional, looking between you in shock. “This would be a great time for you to stop with the prank.”

“I’m afraid we can’t do that,” Max says solemnly. “We were drunk and it was all really quite fast ...”

“No no, this must be some kind of joke!" Christian protests, though he’s starting to look uncertain. He grabs his phone off the coffee table. “Let me just check online, there’s no way ...”

His voice trails off as he scans his phone screen, eyes going wide at the headlines. With a low groan, he collapses back into his armchair.

“It’s true? You two actually ...” He drags a hand down his face. “Please tell me this is all some elaborate hoax the internet cooked up. Please tell me that two other people named Max Verstappen and Y/N Y/L/N happened to get married in Vegas last night.”

You shake your head helplessly.

Christian drops his head into his hands with a groan. “Unbelievable. Two of my drivers running off and eloping in Vegas! The media is going to have an absolute field day with this.”

He fixes you both with a stern glare. “Do either of you have any idea the position this puts the team in? The scandal it could cause?”

You hang your head, properly chastised. Max speaks up tentatively. “We’re really sorry, Christian, it was incredibly stupid of us. But it’s done now so we just have to deal with it.”

Christian sighs heavily. “You’re not wrong. The last thing we need is more media drama so we will have to get out in front of this.”

He pauses, regarding you both shrewdly. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’ll pursue an annulment right away and we can pretend this never happened?”

You glance at Max, who takes your hand and shakes his head. “We’ve talked it over and want to make this work. It happened for a reason.”

Christian makes a strangled noise. “Make this work? You plan on staying married??” His voice rises in pitch, verging on hysterical.

“We want to try,” you confirm, squeezing Max’s hand.

Christian looks desperately between you two once more before his eyes roll back and he slumps over in a dead faint.

You and Max rush over in concern. “Christian!" Max taps his face urgently. “C’mon, wake up!”

After a few tense moments, Christian’s eyes flutter open. “Wha ... what happened?” He mumbles.

“You passed out when we told you we’re staying married,” you explain sheepishly.

Christian groans, covering his face with his arm. “God help me, this is a nightmare ...”

You have to bite back an inappropriate laugh. Seeing your usually unflappable team principal so flustered would be funny if the situation wasn’t so serious.

Max helps Christian sit up and hands him a glass of water. “Sorry for springing this on you. But we’re going to make the best of it.”

Christian fixes Max with a weary look. “Just promise me no more reckless surprises from you two.”

You and Max raise your right hands in unison. “We promise!”

Taking a deep breath, Christian straightens his shirt and smooths his hair, regaining his composure. “Right. Well this is certainly an unexpected development. But the show must go on.”

He adopts his usual businesslike tone. “We’ll need to draft a press release announcing this immediately and get ahead of the media cycle. No commenting publicly until we strategize.”

You both nod obediently. Christian checks his watch. “I needed to get our PR team on the phone five minutes ago. You two, order room service and lay low until you hear from me.”

He ushers you politely but firmly out the door. As it shuts behind you, you turn to Max with wide eyes. “Well ... that could’ve gone worse?”

Max winces. “I thought Christian was going to burst a blood vessel at first. But it seems he’s taking it in stride.”

You both burst into slightly hysterical laughter, the stress melting away.

Looks like you have a marriage to figure out how to actually make work.

***

One year later

You take a deep breath as you knock on the door to Christian’s office, Max by your side. It’s time to break some more big news to your team principal.

“Come in!” Christian calls.

You enter to find him sitting at his desk surrounded by the usual organized chaos of strategy plans and data analysis.

He looks up, blinking in surprise. “Y/N, Max, what brings you by?”

You glance at Max, who gives you an encouraging nod and tentative smile. Turning back to Christian, you clasp your hands together nervously.

“Hey Christian. So, remember last year in Vegas when we promised no more reckless surprises?”

Christian’s eyes narrow warily. “Yeeesss ...” he draws out.

You look at Max again who blurts out, “Well we have another surprise coming your way. You’re going to be a grandpa!”

Christian’s jaw drops. His gaze darts down to your still flat midsection then back up to your nodding, beaming faces.

“You ... you’re ...” Christian stammers, looking like all the blood has drained from his face.

You take pity and confirm it for him. “Pregnant, yes. Surprise!” You add with an awkward chuckle.

For a few long moments Christian just sits there, mouth opening and closing wordlessly like a fish. Then, his eyes roll back and he topples forward, head thunking down on his desk.

You and Max rush forward. “Uh no, I think we broke him again,” Max winces, gently shaking Christian’s shoulder.

After a few tense seconds, Christian stirs with a groan. “Oww, my head ...”

“You passed out when we told you about the baby,” you explain sheepishly.

Christian blinks blearily up at you both hovering over him anxiously. “The baby ... so it’s really true then?”

You place a hand on your stomach. “Yep! There’s going to be a little Verstappen running around in around seven and a half months.”

Despite his obvious shock, Christian manages a weak smile. “Well how about that ... we’re expanding the Red Bull family.”

Max claps him on the back. “I know it seems a bit crazy but we’re thrilled.” He squeezes your hand and smiles softly.

Christian lets out a long breath, straightening his rumpled shirt. “Well, I appreciate you both coming to me first this time. We’ll need to strategize how to share the happy news.”

You can’t resist teasing him gently. “Don’t worry, we’ll do our best to avoid making you faint again in the future.”

Christian levels a stern finger at you both. “See that you do. My heart can only take so much.” But his mock glare melts into a warm smile.

You exchange a grin with Max.

It turns out that sometimes what happens in Vegas doesn’t stay in Vegas … but neither of you is going to complain about that.

#f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #max verstappen #mv1 #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fic #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen blurb #f1 fluff #f1 blurb #f1 one shot #f1 x y/n #f1 drabble #f1 fandom #f1blr #f1 x female reader #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen x female reader #red bull racing #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen drabble

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Angsty Post Outsiders Headcanons

-Ponyboy gets real cuddly for a while, but Darry and Soda don’t mind because it’s kind of nice their kid brother is still a kid, even though he’s grown up a lot. Darry in particular will just sit with Pony on the couch with an arm around his shoulders, and it helps keep Pony grounded

-For a while, none of the gang can stand to say either Johnny or Dally’s names, because whenever they get brought up Pony goes completely blank, Darry’s eyes get cold, Soda tears up, Steve picks a fight, and Two-bit goes out drinking

-The long term effects from Ponyboy’s concussion leave him with balance issues, blurry vision, and dizzy spells for a while. It has Darry terrified about the possibility of him having long term brain damage and has Pony really stressed. Soda doesnt know what to do so he just pretends everything is fine, but his positivity is so false he cant even fool himself

-The first time Ponyboy voluntarily leaves the house after everything is when Curly Shepard gets out of the reformatory and shows up on the Curtis’ porch looking for him. A bit of the spark has returned to Ponyboy’s eye when he gets back that night and because of that Darry can’t really hate Curly Shepard as much as he wants to. Sodapop loathes the kid enough for both of them anyhow

-Steve notices Dally’s absence the most whenever he’s stealing cars because Dal used to know where the best places to drive them and then drop them without being noticed by the fuzz

-Sodapop is super wary of girls after Sandy, and Steve hates that he’s secretly happy about it because even though they get to spend a lot more time together now, Sodapop is clearly still heartbroken

-Curly Shepard has always liked booze a little too much, and even though Ponyboy doesn’t like the taste he quickly learns to like the feeling of being drunk and not having to think about Johnny or Dal. Surprisingly, Two-bit is the one to shake some sense into him after everyone else was unsuccessful

-Steve starts playing music real loud all the time and no one gets why. (He does it because everything is so quiet all the time without Dal causing trouble and Johnny and Ponyboy always muttering to each other and snickering)

-Steve was the first person in the gang to find out about Curly and Ponyboy being a couple when he walked in on them cuddling one day. They don’t notice him and he didn’t tell anyone, not even Soda, because if what happened to Johnny and Dally taught him anything it’s that rash actions and loose lips have a cost he isn’t willing to pay

#the outsiders #ponyboy curtis #curly shepard #darry curtis #sodapop curtis #steve randle #johnny cade #dallas winston

[hier--soir]

under the night | two

summary: your nightmares won't quit, and joel is persistent pairing: joel miller x f!reader, set in jackson after the end of tlou part I warnings/tags: [18+ only, minors dni] language, slow-ish burn, angst, nightmares, discussion of attempted SA, discussion of murder, injury, blood, soft!joel, age gap [20ish years] word count: 4.3k part one | series masterlist | main masterlist

Get off me, get off me, get off me, get off me, ge-

You woke with a gasp, still feeling the intense pressure of someone sitting on top of you, sitting on your chest, holding your hands down beside your head, pushing you into the dirt, endless pressure – no escape. Get off me, you wanted to scream, but your lips were sealed shut in terror, and you weren’t sure if it was sweat or tears rolling down your face. A stifled moan of fear wormed out of your mouth, and you stared up at the shadowy cracked roof of your bedroom in Jackson, trying to figure out if you had truly woken up.

It was the same dream. Always the same one. It would shift and change, sometimes to include more aggravating factors, to be worse than it actually was all those years ago. And sometimes, rarely, your brain would let you win. You would overpower him, you would be strong enough to push him off of you, and end his life yourself. Only to wake, and shamefully remember that was not how it had happened.

It was the kind of waking nightmare, where even when consciousness came, your fear remained. You leapt out of bed frantically, slipping and hitting the ground with a thud. Your ankle twinged painfully, but you stood and made to escape the room. You were a few steps from the door when your foot stepped on a loose sock, and your momentum threw you forward, tumbling until your face smacked painfully against the knob of the bedroom door. A guttural cry ripped out of your throat, as intense pain soared through your cheekbone.

You exhaled in shock, a film of tears blurring your eyesight.

“Cal,” you called feebly, feeling as though your heart was beating out of your chest. “Fuck.” Your throat was tight, air struggling to make it in and out of your windpipe in your panicked state. Aware of hot blood trickling down your neck, you reached up and wrenched the bedroom door open before stumbling into the hall.

Cal mumbled your name out groggily, standing in the open doorway of his bedroom. Rubbing sleep out of his eyes, he saw you more clearly and rushed forward, hovering his hands nervously over your biceps. “Jesus Christ, what the fuck happened?”

“I’m an idiot,” you cried in frustration. He took you in his arms then, rubbing your back in small circles. The sensation of his arms around you didn’t calm you in the slightest, still feeling as if the danger from your dream was real. Oftentimes when you woke, you longed to live with a woman, just so you wouldn’t have to be near a man while you felt that way. “I fell,” you flinched as your cut brushed against the dry fabric of his shirt. “It was another nightmare, and I…I hit myself on the doorknob, I- fuck.”

“Okay, okay,” he soothed, pushing your sweaty hair out of your face and assessing the damage. “Let’s get you cleaned up, you look like something out of a horror movie.” A begrudging laugh sputtered out of your mouth, and you allowed him to lead you into the bathroom. Cal patched you up quietly, without saying much. He knew nothing would help.

The gash on your cheekbone wasn’t huge, maybe the size of a fingernail, but it took a while to stem the blood flow. By the next morning, plumes of bright blue and purple had appeared over your cheek. You were devastated, insistent to Cal that no one could see you, no one could know.

You ate breakfast in stiff silence, only the sounds of chewing filling the thick air between the pair of you. He formulated a plan to tell people in town that you were sick, out of commission with some type of flu, and couldn’t get out of bed. It settled your nerves somewhat, but what you didn’t expect, was how hard it would be to simply stay home.

Cal eventually left for work with a promise to pass the story on to Maria and get you out of your shift at the stables. The boredom crept in quickly, and by late afternoon you were lazing in bed, staring longingly out the foggy window, willing the pulsating bruise to miraculously clear up. You longed to feel the cool air on your skin, but couldn’t risk the embarrassment of anyone in town seeing the defeated look on your face. You looked awful. Through the course of that first day, the swelling crept around your eye, the pressure keeping it almost entirely closed.   

When Cal returned home around sunset, you’d been drifting in and out of a light sleep and rose happily to greet him. He assured you through ravenous mouthfuls of dinner that Maria was okay with you missing work for a week, and that no one was suspicious, because why would they think you were lying about being sick? You hummed in response, knowing he was right, yet still feeling bad about skirting your responsibilities just because you’d been so clumsy.

“Joel was asking about you today,” he mumbled past the fork in his mouth, as a sort of afterthought. 

“Joel Miller?”

“No, Joel Schmoel from down the corner shop. Yes, Joel Miller, you dolt.”

You glared at him churlishly, waiting for him to finish laughing and start speaking again. Your hands had quickly clammed up, and you found yourself on the edge of your seat waiting to hear what Cal and Joel’s interaction was like.

“Badgered the fuck outta me. Asked all these questions about you being sick, and how bad it was, and if you needed anything to be brought to the house.” Cal watched your face as he spoke, trying to gage your reaction. “He seemed pretty concerned honestly. Looked like he was gonna bite his own tongue off when I said you probably wouldn’t appreciate a house call.”

You stared at your plate dumbly, mind whirring as you took in his words. The idea fascinated you, to think that Joel ever thought about you; that you still existed in his world, when you weren’t standing directly in front of him.

Suddenly, Cal’s fork splattered onto the table with a dull clang, and he blurted out, “Wait, is something goin’ on between you two?”

“What?” you groused. “Cal, give me a fucking break. No, there’s nothing going on between me and Joel Miller.” He regarded you suspiciously, but backed off when you rolled your eyes and insisted.

You shrugged off the odd feeling of disappointment that rolled in your stomach. Of course there was nothing going on between you and Joel. That didn’t mean that you hadn’t thought about it, just once or twice. What it might have been like to touch his skin. Innocently, of course – his hand, or his short beard where the streaks of grey sat. To touch his neck, maybe… his mouth… No. You were just intrigued by him; wanted to know more – more than he’d want to share, you were willing to bet.

On day two of your self-imposed isolation, staying home proved impossible. The winter weather was merciless, and you lay tucked in bed, wearing your thickest clothing, but were still left shivering. It was almost evening, but you knew Cal wasn’t coming home anytime soon. He’d offered to change his plans with Luisa and come home after work instead to spend time with you, but you insisted he do nothing of the sort. “I’ll be fine,” you’d asserted firmly. “Have fun with your girlfriend.”

But now that you were there, alone, slowly freezing and with no firewood in the house, you found yourself desperate. You had no way of contacting Cal without marching straight to Luisa’s house, so you decided to buck up, get out there and sort some wood yourself. If you didn’t get warm soon, the shiner on your face would be the least of your issues.

After dragging your boots on, you set out into the cold. The sun was long gone, and a harsh wind was whipping through the streets of Jackson. Your bare face and hands ached soon enough, as you marched through the oncoming gales, feeling like your skin was being sliced with a thousand tiny cuts. There was a pile of firewood near the stables, you knew for sure, and you just prayed as you walked that some of it was under cover and had been protected from rain the night before.

You didn’t spot anyone else out on the streets as you walked, no one else stupid enough to brave the cold weather when it was getting so late in the evening. It wasn’t until you were a hundred metres or so from the stables that you noticed him. Joel was headed the same way as you, but was coming from the centre of town, and that put you directly in his line of sight.

“Fuck,” you whispered, tugging the collar of your jacket up, in hopes that he wouldn’t recognise you in the dark. You stared at the ground and marched on, watching the plumes of your icy breath floating in front of your face. Predictably, your attempts to go unnoticed went unsuccessfully.

“Hey!” that deep, Texan voice yelled out from down the street. Heart racing, you tried not to react and kept walking at a steady pace, hoping he would believe you hadn’t heard him. The wind was loud, and whipped past your ears like crazy, which you hoped would help your case.

He called out your name, his voice increasing in volume as he tried hastily to catch up to you. Hearing him say your name was like entering some kind of trance state, and you focused so not to lose your footing because of the way your insides went all warm.

“Hey, hey, stop.” Joel’s large hand was on your bicep, squeezing just enough to pull you to a halt. You cringed, keeping your head turned in the other direction. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Your friend said you were sick,” he was talking to your back, and your arm went cold again when his hand dropped away.

“Yeah, I don’t feel too good,” you tried, feigning a cough into your elbow. “I don’t want to get you sick; you should step back.” You could hear his heavy breathing though, and knew he wasn’t going anywhere just yet.

“Why won’t you look at me?” you heard him say, his voice almost too quiet now to hear over the thrashing wind. And then he was in front of you, and there was no way you could hide it from him anymore.

The silence between you was deafening, except for a sudden roar in your ears, which you vaguely understood to be the pounding of your own heart.

Joel said your name quietly, mouth hung open in shock. It didn’t last long though, before his face twisted into a violent grimace, his upper lip pulled tightly up to reveal a gritted set of straight teeth. You tucked your chin further into the collar of your jacket, not making eye contact and hoping he would let it go.

“Who the fuck did this to you?” His voice was deeper than you’d ever heard it, and goosebumps broke out across your arms underneath all your layers. His chest rose and fell quickly with his deep breaths, clearly trying (and failing) to keep himself calm.

“It’s nothing, Joel,” you attempted feebly. “Don’t worry about it, reall-“

His voice cracked as he repeated your name, and he stopped, sealing his lips together. Your heart fell at hearing how anguished his tone sounded. He tried again, “Darlin’, you need to tell me what happened.” The pet name flew by, and you didn’t have a chance to really take it in, as he gripped your chin gently and tilted your face upwards, giving himself a clearer view of your dark purple cheek, and the small scabbed gash in the middle of it.

“This wasn’t...” he trailed off, eyes shining in disbelief. You kept quiet. “Cal wouldn’t…”

“God, Joel, no!” you exclaimed quickly, a strand of hair falling loose from your bun as you shook your head vehemently. “Fuck, no, no one hit me, it’s really not what you think. It’s fine, I promise.”

He didn’t believe you; you could see it in his solemn expression. But he didn’t press the matter further, not yet.

“I need,” you took a deep breath, trying to calm your scattered nerves. “I’ve been staying home because I know how it looks. But it’s f-fucking freezing and I need more firewood and Cal’s with Luisa and I-“

“Sh, shh,” he interrupted quietly, placing that hand on your shoulder and squeezing it, just once. “Let’s get your firewood and get you back home so you can warm up.”

“I don’t need your help, Joel,” you bit out defensively. “I’m not a damsel in distress, I can carry some wood on my own.”

He sighed your name out desperately. “I know you don’t need my help, just let me…” You didn’t hear the end of his sentence through the rushing wind. His angry expression calmed down, as if he realised it wouldn’t help anything in that moment. “C’mon,” he finally spoke again, nodding his head toward the stables. 

The walk back to your house was much the same. Both holding an armful of chopped wood, the only sound between you was of chattering teeth and harsh exhales. When you got inside, Joel ordered you to sit down on the tattered sofa, and then promptly put together a small fire in the hearth. Once it was blazing, you wiggled off your perch and sat directly in front of it on the hardwood floor, holding your hands out desperately towards the flames, longing for feeling to return to your frozen fingers.

After a moment of contemplation, Joel settled onto the floor beside you with a grunt. You heard the way his knees cracked as they bent, but you kept quiet about it. You didn’t know what to say to him – how to explain. The idea of him, or Maria and Tommy, thinking you were a liar made your chest hurt. But you didn’t want to seem weak, and you definitely didn’t want their pity. Eventually, with the newfound warmth, the silence became comfortable, and the sounds of Joel’s slow, steady breaths beside you made you feel sleepy enough to close your eyes.

“Do you want me to go so you can sleep?” he asked quietly, shaking you from your drowsiness.

The idea of being alone in the house overnight suddenly struck you as terrifying. It was the first night Cal was spending at Luisa’s, and you hadn’t truly thought about it until that moment. It was pitch dark outside, and if Joel left, there would be silence in the house. Nothing but time to think… time to sleep, and with sleep came…

“You could stay a bit longer,” you whispered tentatively, trying not to give yourself away. “If you want to.”

You glanced over to find that him already watching you with serious eyes. Your eyebrow raised in question, and he sighed softly from his nose, lips parting ever so slightly to speak. “I’m sorry to stare,” he shook his head a little.  “It just looks worse than I thought, now that we’re in the light.”

The confession made you cringe, and you shut your eyes tightly with a frown, wishing he hadn’t seen you like this.

“I know it’s awful.” 

“Please talk to me,” Joel urged, and his face seemed to plead with you, desperate to understand. “Who did this? I can help you.”

You laughed in a humourless, defeated way. “I did this,” you confessed miserably. “It was my fault.”

Joel’s expression twisted in frustration and then relaxed again so quickly you thought you’d imagined it. He was trying to stay calm, for your benefit.

“I don’t know if you’d remember, but I… I have these dreams…” He watched you speak and you noticed his hands gripping were tightly holding onto one another in his lap. “Nightmares,” you clarified.

“I remember,” he said resolutely, eyes never straying from your face.

“It’s usually the same, and it’s not just a dream, it… it’s a memory.” The fire gave a loud pop in between you, and you appreciated a chance to try to catch your breath and keep your cool. 

“Years ago, Cal and I were somewhere in Montana, real close to the Canadian border. We’d been thinking about heading over, trying to see if there was any settlements in the major cities. We wanted to try out somewhere new and we’d been drifting around for so long, we were exhausted. And somewhere along the way, we run into these two guys.”

You tried to discreetly wipe the sweat from your hands onto your jeans. Sitting so close to the fire had made you really heat up, so you slowly peeled your jacket off and discarded it behind you.

“They were young, younger than us. Maybe early twenties. Seemed so kind, and they were lost. Asked us if we had any food to share, if we knew how to get to Missoula … we trusted them.” You shuddered softly. It was the first time you’d ever retold the story to anyone. Cal had been there, so there was never a need to rehash it until that moment. It was unspoken between you; you didn’t like to discuss what had happened that night. “They travelled with us for a few days. We were all going in the same direction, plus Cal and I figured the extra numbers gave us more safety.”

You realised too late that a tear had escaped your eye and rolled down your cheek. You wiped it hastily, but Joel noticed, and he put his hand on your knee.

"They weren’t good, Joel. I shouldn’t have trusted them, I was too trusting,” you gasped out, eyes blurring. “I woke up and he was just, there. It was all I could feel, I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t move. He was so heavy and he was holding my arms down and he had looked small but he was so strong, Joel. He saw me wake up, and he laughed at me.”

The words hung painfully in the air for a moment.

“Nothing happened, he couldn’t… he didn’t get the chance to actually…” you sucked in a breath, unable to say the word. Rape. He didn’t get the chance to rape me. “Cal woke up and killed him, and his friend too, for good measure.” 

After a few moments of silence, you risked a glance at Joel, to find him glaring into the fire. His jaw was clenched so tight it looked painful, and his shoulders seemed to shake as deep breaths rattled out of him. His large hand gripped your knee tightly.

“And it won’t go away, no matter how much time passes,” you sniffled. “He’s dead, but when I fall asleep, he is so alive, and he’s holding me down again, and I feel powerless.”

“And your face?” he finally rasped out in a chilled tone.

Your cheekbone ached at the mention, and you scowled retelling it. “I woke up yesterday morning after the nightmare and I panicked, it had felt so real, and I slipped trying to run to get out of the room. My face smacked off the fucking doorknob. So fucking stupid.”

“You’re not stupid.”

Sucking your lips into your mouth, you watched him and waited. You didn’t know what he could possibly say in response to your story, but you knew you were done talking for a minute.

He spoke your name for the umpteenth time that night. “I want you to know that as long as you’re here, in Jackson, no man is ever going to lay a hand on you that you don’t want there. You’re safe here, I’ll make god damn sure of it myself.”

Your stomach went warm, and you allowed yourself to smile sadly. “Safe is a relative term.”

“Don’t I fuckin’ know it, but I’ll repeat it as many times as I need to. You’re safe here, with-“ he stopped suddenly, his eyes boring into yours. “With us.” For a second, you’d thought he was going to say you were safe with him. And you knew without him verbalising it, that it was true. Those thoughts of touching him raced across your mind once more. You could so easily reach out, and put your hand on his knee, the way he had done to you. But it didn’t feel that simple, when you tried to will your arm to move.

“Let’s sit on the sofa,” you suggested, standing up to stretch out your aching legs, before settling down a metre away.

“Thank god,” he cracked with a small huff. “My ass is killing me.” He slumped down on the sofa directly beside you, so that the sides of your bodies were pressed firmly against one another. You tried not to overthink it, reminding yourself that the space was small, and it was cold, and he probably didn’t mean anything by it. But God, it had been a long time since a man other than Cal was so close to you.

“I’m sorry about the lie,” you relented, letting your eyes fall closed once again. “I didn’t want anyone to think I was weak… I felt ashamed. I… I want to be strong, Joel.”

“You are strong.”

You twisted your neck to look up at him, and it was as if time stopped between the two of you, as you realised how close your faces had become. His warm breaths were coming out in short puffs, and you could feel the air shifting at they hit your face. Your eyes traced over the scar on the bridge of his nose, his tan skin, his chapped lips. When you made eye contact again, you knew he’d caught you staring at his mouth, but you didn’t look away from him.

His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip, and your stomach twisted with a strange feeling of excitement. He sighed out your name, so quietly you could’ve missed it if you hadn’t seen his mouth form the word up close. Joel moved his face forward ever so slightly, and the tip of his nose brushed against your cheek. You realised in that second, that he might have been feeling the same way as you. Longing to touch, to be close. Up close he smelt like mint, and soap, and smoke from the burning fire.

But when he turned his face so that your lips would be close enough to touch, you turned your face away ever so slightly.

Not like this, you thought sadly. Not when you looked battered and bruised. Not with the story of awful memories so fresh on your tongue.

You felt him freeze, his face still beside yours. Chest tight, you summoned every ounce of courage in your body to press your lips gently against his cheek.

“Will you stay until I fall asleep?” you whispered in his ear, hating how small the request made you feel. You remembered the words you’d said to him at the bonfire, about wanting things; nothing good comes from it.

“I’ll stay,” he whispered back, just as faintly, his body relaxing a touch. Even though you still believed the words you’d said, you felt relief.

With that confirmation, you lowered your head to rest on his shoulder. It didn’t take long for you to drift into sleep’s open arms, as your head moved with the rise and fall of his chest, and the fire crackled slowly in your ears.

While you slept, your nightmares were replaced with visions of Joel.

And when you woke, he was gone. You’d expected it to be that way, and pushed down the part of your brain that had longed to wake up still pressed against his warm body. Your neck creaked painfully as you sat up on the sofa and looked around your home. You found a fresh pile of firewood left on your doorstep, along with a bag of apples.

You stayed home for the rest week, and the bruise slowly settled to a mere yellow tinge over your skin. Every morning, you would find that something new had been left on your doorstep by Joel. Teabags, fruit, more firewood, one of Ellie’s comic books with a note that said “Just in case you get really bored” in a messy scrawl. You felt like the Grinch from that old children’s book your parents read to you when you were young; born with a heart too small, and yet over that week, you felt it grow three sizes.

And finally, after so much time inside, the day came when you returned to the streets of Jackson. You walked down the street with Cal by your side, and a pep in your step. In the centre of town, the pair of you ran into a woman from the stables, Claire.

“Oh,” she gushed, her eyes darting around distractedly. “So glad to see you’re feeling better.”

“Thanks Claire,” you said. “Sorry for being out for so long….” You trailed off slowly, sensing that you didn’t have the woman’s full attention. Claire looked back at you sheepishly.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m distracted, I’m just so curious! I heard Tommy’s showing him around right now.” 

“Showing who around?” Cal questioned, tucking a stray lock of sandy hair behind his ear.

“You guys didn’t hear?” Claire gasped dramatically. “A man arrived this morning at the gates, alone if you can believe it, and almost knocked it down with his own two hands, begging to be let inside. Josie told me he was asking Tommy and Maria if he could live here! Apparently he heard about the settlement here in Jackson, and came all the way from Cana-“

You stopped listening to Claire then, looking over to Cal with curious eyes. He shrugged at you, and continued the conversation with Claire, but you stay zoned out, taking a moment to look around the centre of the settlement you called home, and felt immense peace wash over you. It felt so good to be back. And maybe, the thought came from deep inside you. Maybe it’ll be nice not to be a newbie anymore.

part three

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #tlou #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #ellie williams #ellie tlou #tlou hbo #joel miller angst #joel miller one shot #joel and ellie #pedro pascal #joel miller pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #my writing #under the night

[sassy-cass-16]

the grifter's bone parallels are obviously immaculate but my brain immediately went to the piper when I listened to episode 4. we very clearly have an object connected to the slaughter in the violin, it's set during an older historical period, it makes its victims (bardwell, in this case) appear to be listening to inaudible music, etc.

I am also convinced that the man toting the sack full of artifacts was, if not jonah magnus himself, at least some kind of predecessor to the Magnus Institute's Artifact Storage department. potentially jonah might've gotten to him and stolen/bought stuff off of him. an emissary of Beholding definitely would've been able to get the unnamed violin player to talk more than he intended to about his life story.

it also feels very true to jonah's egomania that he'd introduce himself with a reading about something he directly caused, supporting the theory that he's stuck in the puter with jmart. there's no proper introduction or sign-off, either, which makes me think either the original document is so old as to have been damaged at the ends, or somehow jonah in the puter made the active decision to cut out any identifying features.

that would make sense with the fact that "augustus" doesn't have the moments of robotic audio that "chester" and "norris" have when they initially start reading.

finally: i've been nursing a pet theory that lena is a parallel of gertrude robinson, and that audio file at the end of this episode made me LOSE IT. who the fuck sent gwen that email? how would it have gotten onto her ancient-ass work computer? was it COLIN??? WAS IT JONAH FUCKING MAGNUS???

the fact that gwen's last name is bouchard, and she just happens to receive potentially criminal information about her boss immediately after a voice that is almost definitely jonah magnus started talking... I'm so suspicious.

#the magnus protocol #tmagp spoilers #tmagp #the magnus archives #tma #tma spoilers #jonah magnus

[utilitycaster]

speaking of jasmine bhullar, she and brennan had a great convo about min-maxers and i was wondering what your own thoughts on min-maxing were? i'm new-ish to actually playing dnd and i still worry about making myself a problem to the dm as opposed to an asset.

First off as someone who enjoys Adventuring Academy but never has the time to watch the full episodes, thank you for bringing this up - I watched just the debate, and it was incredible and hilarious.

This is a good question. I am 100% in agreement with Jasmine here and she said it better than I could: min-maxing simply means that you read the rules to D&D and decided to use them to your advantage. Reading the rules to D&D is great and everyone should do it (in fact, this a reliable way to be an asset to the DM: know how your character's abilities work). There are a few cases where it sucks but most of those aren't actually due to min-maxing so much as shitty player behaviors that can occur in min-maxers.

I think one reason people dislike min-maxers is that the stereotypical min-maxer builds a character who truly can't do anything except for massive damage, and that does kind of suck, but I also think that that is really hard to build in 5e. You're going to have some other abilities. I think it was much easier to truly min-max in 3.5e, and perhaps in older editions you could really break things (in fact, having listened to some pathfinder 1e actual plays, I know you could).

There is also, as Jasmine points out, a false assumption that min-maxers aren't interested in RP or won't do it. This is very clearly untrue and a few examples off the top of my head from Actual Play that are debatably min-maxed are: Deadeye Cybin (played by Brennan, natch) in NADDPod (damage dealer); Laerryn Coramar-Seelie of EXU Calamity (optimized for survival, especially against non-magical foes); Caduceus Clay and Deanna Leimert of Critical Role (both optimized to be healers, incidentally); Orym and Vex, also of Critical Role (optimized to have a stupidly high perception score), Theo Gumbar of A Crown of Candy (optimized to tank and have a stupidly high AC). These are all fantastic characters with profound RP scenes who happen to also be really, really good at a narrow band of things, but they're also not just good at that. Many of them also can serve as the brains or the face of their party; many have utility spells far beyond their area of specialization.

Another reason people dislike min-maxers is they have a reputation for being ungenerous - for swooping in and stealing the spotlight. The above characters, played by some of the most generous people in actual play, show that's clearly not the case. Also, to be honest, a spotlight hog doesn't have to be min-maxed. It's just a shitty "hey, hey look at me" player. I think attention hogs might be a bit more inclined to try to build a character who is really really good at something (again, usually damage more than say, healing) but that doesn't mean that everyone who builds a gunslinger is here to steal all the glory.

Specialization also isn't bad! The reason D&D is a game where people are in a party is because not everyone can do everything! There are a small handful of characters who are a utility knife who can basically do a little bit of almost everything (Keyleth, Fjord, Moonshine) but they are the exception rather than the rule. Barbarians, for example, are a class that usually is structured around tanking and doing damage. This is fine! You probably don't want a party that's all barbarians because it is useful to have healers and ranged attackers and people who can sink all their high stat rolls into the mental side of things because they don't live and die quite so much by their physical stats, but it sure is nice to have a barbarian in the mix to balance out the glass cannon wizard, isn't it?

If you show up to a table where there is a clear gap in party composition (eg: healing) or there's a clear story the GM wants to tell (eg: very social, requires a lot of diplomacy) and you decide not to fill it because you are too busy building Guy With Stealth Bonus of +20, then that's a problem, but that's ultimately a failure to collaborate. Min-maxing for something that doesn't really help the party is simply the way in which you happened to fail that compromise.

I'm sure there are edge-case, dark corners of D&D Reddit builds that do suck, but honestly most of them suck in that they are actually not good (eg: coffeelock). Your typical case of dumping one stat to max out on another? totally normal, totally cool.

Anyway to get to the part of your question regarding not being a problem: you probably aren't! You're thinking about how to not be a problem to your DM, which people who are problems tend not to do. However, the big takeaways of the above are 1. read the rules of your character and 2. build a character who fits into the world. In the session zero, build a character who has a reason to be doing the things the DM outlines in broad strokes, and who complements the other PCs. If you do that, then it doesn't matter if you min-max or not.

#answered #Anonymous #*cool hand luke voice* what we have here is a failure to collaborate #(i have not seen cool hand luke i should) #d&d mechanics #long post

[nighttimeebony]

Unanswered questions about Dazai's backstory that are driving me fucking insane

(Yeah, so, completely against my will, Bungou Stray Dogs has been consuming every last neuron in my brain for the past several weeks, so I thought I'd share my unraveling)

(mentions of eye injuries and self-harm/attempted suicide below the cut, if you're sensitive to those kinds of things).

(1) In season 2, episode 3, when Ango turns out to be a spy in the Port Mafia, Dazai says, "Everything I never want to lose is always lost. Everything worth wanting is lost the moment I obtain it. And nothing I pursue is worth the cost of prolonging this life, this suffering." Like! What the fuck does this mean?!?!! What happened in Dazai's life that made him think this? The way he says it indicates that him "losing things he wants to keep" has happened often enough for it to become a pattern for him, so what was Dazai talking about when he said this?

(2) In season 3, episode 3, why did Dazai say "thank you" to the old Port Mafia boss when he killed Rimbaud's double of him?

In the sub, he says "let me thank you for once," and in the dub, he says "I'll never get another chance to say this, so thank you". Why did he say that?

(3) Why did Dazai keep his eye covered as a teenager? At first, I assumed it was because Dazai had some kind of injury that he was covering, considering how easily it bled every time Dazai sustained some kind of damage to his head or face, but never to the eye directly. In episode 1 of season 2, when a bullet grazes the side of his face, his eye starts to bleed

and the same thing happens again in episode 1 of season 3 when Chuuya kicks him into a wall.

BUT! When Oda's dying and he pulls Dazai's bandages off, there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with his eye. And it can't be that Dazai was just wearing them as some kind of intimidation tactic; there had to have been something wrong with it, because we see it bleed twice (even though the eye itself never sustained any direct injury), but there is no visual indication that anything is wrong with his eye, either in the flashbacks or in the present (no scars, seemingly no vision issues, and no discoloration in the eye like you might expect to see as a result of permanent damage). So I am asking WHAT THE FUCK WERE THE BANDAGES FOR

(4) Where did Dazai come from before he was in the Port Mafia? We know that he was a witness to the old boss's murder when he was 14, but Dazai wasn't an official Mafia member until he was 15 when Mori tasked him to work the Arahabaki case. Was Dazai always connected to the Mafia in some way, or did he come from a normal family before Mori inducted him?

(5) FOLLOWING THAT: where are Dazai's parents? In the "Fifteen" novel, it's stated that Dazai wasn't a mere orphan that Mori just picked up, but we don't know if Dazai's parents are dead or alive or where they would be if they were alive.

(6) What are Dazai's bandages actually for? Given Dazai's track record of suicide attempts, it's a common theory that the bandages are to hide self harm scars (I subscribe to this theory myself, as it's the most plausible), but we don't actually know because we've never seen Dazai without his bandages before.

EDIT: (7) Oh, yeah, I almost forgot. In season 3, episode 2-

What is the motivation behind this scene? Why does Dazai keep shooting? Why does he think that the soldier deserved to suffer more? Dazai offers the guy a more merciful death, but Dazai also thinks that a merciful death is "more than he deserves". Why does Dazai think this? This can't just be about this one soldier, because Dazai hasn't had any kind of encounter with him before this. Dazai is clearly having some kind of small breakdown, but what triggered it and why?

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #dazai osamu #bsd dazai #osamu dazai #recently ive been trying to write a fic for bsd but i kept hitting roadblocks because of all the unknowns about dazai and his backstory #i swear to god if we don't get some kind of proper backstory for dazai before the series ends im going to burn my house down #i am in your walls asagiri PLEASE FINISH YOUR CHARACTERS #bsd theories #bsd thoughts #bsd fifteen #bsd dark era

[stangalina]

"I am so, so sorry." Jaskier said the moment the door closed behind him.

Geralt didn't respond, taking a moment to subtly look around the room he'd just been brought into. It was a combination of an office and a bedroom, a room with bookshelves on every wall and a desk near the window, and a room with a reasonably large bed and several shelves and cupboards, separated by an open archway. The archway had a curtain that could be drawn across, but judging by the sun damage on the fabric tie holding it aside, it hadn't been drawn in years. Possibly ever.

The shelves were full of trinkets and and curiosities, some of which Geralt recognised as things Jaskier had collected while travelling by his side. There were so many that they displaced the books meant to be on the shelves, the books instead being left in neat piles on the floor. The cold wooden floorboards were covered up with a rug that would have been rather expensive when it was first bought, and the window in each section of the room had thick curtains that could be drawn to keep in warmth. Next to the bed, there was a reasonably sized fireplace that clearly hadn't been lit in a while, but it was clean and looked perfectly functional.

He was dimly aware that Jaskier was still apologising, but Jaskiers voice was classified as "pleasant background noise" by his brain, so listening to every word the bard said was not automatic. That, and his rambling apologies were completely unnecessary.

"-I understand if you are angry with me but I-"

"I'm not angry." He interrupted, looking away from the room and back to Jaskier.

"You... Aren't?"

Geralt shook his head.

"You successfully found us lodging for the winter. Like you said you would."

"By sacrificing your pride! Honestly, I spend my whole entire life trying to show the world that Witchers are people worthy of love, kindness and respect only to throw it all away in front of my peers without even thinking! And now you're going to have to be around their arrogant asses all god-forsaken winter, I'm so sorry Geralt." Jaskier rambled, sounding honestly distraught.

"No, I- hmm." Geralt tried to talk, but couldn't come up with the words to explain how he felt about what just happened. "I have been called significantly worse things in my lifetime."

"That doesn't make it better!"

Really, he had been called far worse. In comparison to butcher, beast, feral creature, mutant and monster; "dog" was exceedingly tame.

"I'm going to strangle that alcoholic fossil the next time I see him." Jaskier hissed.

"Don't. I'm not in the mood to help you hide a body."

"You won't need to. I know this place like the back of my hand. They won't find his body until it goes putrid and bursts."

The amount of distain Jaskier could pack into his words was a marvel to behold. Geralt had to calm him down, or Jaskier may actually follow through with that threat. It wouldn't be the first time he'd killed a man, but it would likely get him into some sort of trouble.

"You are not not murdering your colleagues, Jaskier." Geralt asserted, looking around the room for the best place to set down his bag.

Jaskier whimpered pathetically.

"You're right. If anyone deserves to die it's me right now. I'm a master of the seven liberal arts for Melitele's sake, why couldn't I come up with a better idea!?"

A better idea. Geralt pondered that for a minute. He tried to think of an alternate way they could have gotten out of that situation.

Off the top of his head, all plausible alternatives ended in some form of subterfuge, separation, roughing it out in the snow, or getting arrested.

So, on the scale of bad ideas, this was one of the better ones. In fact it may be the best bad idea Jaskier has ever had.

Even if it meant getting Geralt into Oxenfurt under the "pet" clause in Jaskiers contract.

Turns out, to stay as a guest at Oxenfurt Academy, you need to give the institute prior warning so they can add you to the list of people on campus for that year. In other words, guests staying for more than a night or two need to book in over a year in advance.

So when Geralt's last job of the year ran dangerously long and an early thick snowfall rolled in from the south, snowing in the pass to Kear Morhen ahead of schedule and leaving Geralt with nowhere to spend the winter, leading to Jaskiers offer to winter with him in the halls of Oxenfurt Academy, he was unfortunately denied entry.

Jaskier did not take kindly to being told "no" and argued with the aging professor that had met them at the gate for over ten minutes about technicalities and semantics. The professor was as unmoved as a stone column throughout the whole ordeal, stubbornly sticking to the academy's rules. It soon became clear that Jaskier was not going to be able to convince him.

Just as Geralt was about to interject so Jaskier didn't get reprimanded for being mouthy, Jaskier stopped arguing and gained a strange glint to his eyes.

He told Geralt to stay put and walked the professor away from the gate and around a corner that would be out of range if Geralt had human hearing.

Geralt then listened intently as Jaskier smarmily explained to the professor that he saw Geralt as more of a well trained guard dog than a friend, and that since professors at Oxenfurt are allowed up to three pets, he should be able to bring him in. When the professor made a shaky objection, Jaskier took on an incredibly arrogant tone and explained that Witchers are not human, and thus should be classed as pets.

Surely. He asked. Surely a professor of his calibre did not think Witchers were human?

The professor had no choice but to agree.

And now, here they were. In Jaskiers room that they would share for the upcoming winter, in an academy full of people that, thanks to gossip, would soon all know that the White Wolf was brought into Oxenfurt as the loyal pet dog of Julian Alfred Pankratz viscount de Lettenhove.

"Jaskier." Geralt said after dropping his bag and stepping closer to his friend. "I already told you, I'm not angry."

"The fact that you're not angry at being called a dog upsets me greatly dear heart." Jaskier admitted in a tender tone, leaning bodily against the closed door at his back.

"Insults don't bother me Jaskier." Geralt said.

Jaskier glared at him, the look in his eyes accusing those words as a lie. Geralt continued to talk regardless.

"But you weren't insulting me. You were tricking a man into giving us bed and board. And I know you wouldn't have said it if you weren't sure it would work. Right?"

Jaskier opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. He couldn't refute Geralt's words.

"And now we both have winter safe and indoors, with food and fire. You have work to do, and they'll probably have some use for me in this place." Geralt took another step closer. "So stop fucking apologising."

Jaskier closed the distance between them, their chests met and Jaskiers forehead fell to rest on Geralt's shoulder. He sighed heavily.

"I suppose you're right. No point dwelling on what's already been done." Jaskier admitted heavily. "But!" He suddenly said, tone much more like his usual self. "I refuse to forgo giving you any kind of compensation for having to deal with that impotent old fuck! And whatever bullshit the nobles in this place are bound to pull before the snow melts in spring. Sooooo," He drew out the word, stepping back from Geralt. "How about I make you a bath? Scalding hot, perfect for your witchery constitution. Hmm?"

It was an obvious attempt to soothe his own guilt. But... Geralt was never one to say no to a bath. Especially not a bath made by Jaskier.

"Bathing your dog? What a good master." Geralt said, smiling a little at his own joke.

"Shut up you arse." Jaskier hissed as he left the room.

#bonus #Noble: walks up to Geralt and starts spewing veiled insults and backhanded compliments #Geralt; holding a glass of wine and wearing the nicest shirt Jaskier could force him to wear: ... woof #Ensue stunned silence as he wanders off #Geralt is having a lot of fun with it basically #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher #fan fiction #fanfic #ficlet #jaskier #geralt of rivia #yes it does become an inside joke that Geralt teases Jaskier with until the end of time

[hexpea]

Ch. 11 - Cursed A/N: T/W: Treatment of medical event from previous chapter.

Ieiri arrived almost instantly, Satoru in tow with his own concerned look. Clearly she had contacted him so that he could port her to you. You couldn't argue about his presence, he had his uses. The two of them were still dressed from the club, you included. Just before things fell into the rush of emergency care, you noted the slight red, puffiness to Satoru's usually immaculate face. The blue of his eyes was brighter than ever against his irritated capillaries. But that had to wait.

Ieiri immediately began her work by getting onto her knees beside your partner, quickly rolling Seiko to his side. Satoru silently stood by watching with unspoken concern. Ieiri briefly took their vitals as Seiko's body remained stiff.

"It looks like a seizure," she noted and looked up at you urgently. "How long has this been going on?"

"S-since I got home," you stuttered, "so at least ten minutes or more."

"Way too long," she muttered as she gently held their body. "They could have severe damage to their brain if this doesn't get under control."

Her words made you panic even further as you knelt down beside Seiko and placed a delicate hand on their shoulder.

"C'mon, Seiko," you whispered with tears in your eyes, "come back to me."

Satoru watched as you comforted your partner, heartstrings within his chest tightening until they were nearly taut enough to break. He hated seeing the pain and panic in your eyes, his care for you rising to the surface of his expression. He also hated himself for potentially tainting something that made you happy. Meanwhile, Ieiri quickly reached into her pocket and pulled out what looked to be a syringe of some kind. She ripped the cap off with her teeth to reveal its blunt end. In the same moment, she placed its tip between Seiko's cheek and gums and pressed the plunger.

"Midazolam," she muttered with focus, "if this is a seizure, this should get it under control."

The three of you watched quietly with patient worry as Seiko's muscles slowly began to loosen and their eyes closed. Their breathing began to regulate with the passage of time. Eventually, they were able to open their eyes and come to. They looked completely confused and overwhelmed by the sudden crowd around them. They moved their jaw to loosen the sore muscles. Just as they started to sit up, they quickly noticed the pain in their muscles, particularly their back, from the event. They winced at the pain as they slowly sat up.

"Ow," they groaned as they moved to sit on their bottom. You had clasped your hand over your mouth as tears of relief came.

"Welcome back," Ieiri chuckled. "You just had a seizure. How do you feel?"

Seiko swallowed hard and again looked between the three of you as they got used to their surroundings, noting the taste of blood on their tongue. "Fine, I think," their voice was audibly hoarse.

"What happened? Who was it?" You asked in an almost accusatory tone, your voice rushed and panicked. Your furrowed brow was quite intimidating as Seiko silently looked up at you and swallowed hard.

They gave you a telling look but proceeded to lie anyways. "It's just...epilepsy. I...have it."

You sighed with desperate relief and wrapped your arms around their neck in an embrace, aware of the lie but happy to have them back. They hesitantly accepted your embrace, still a bit thrown off from all of the activity. But Satoru knew what you were talking about. Seiko's energy, as you had noted earlier, was off. His eyes saw everything. He couldn't see 'who' but the energy radiating off of his being was definitely not that of a normal non-shaman, let alone that of a standard first-grade sorcerer. They were nearly radiating special grade cursed energy. There was something off about Seiko when Satoru first met them, but this was suddenly off the charts. He had originally kept his mouth shut but with the escalation of events, something needed to be said. But not here, not now.

"Uh huh," Ieiri responded to Seiko with suspicion. "Anyways," she began, standing up and looking down at the two of you. She wasn't one to want to get wrapped up in things unless asked directly. "I definitely recommend following up with your neurologist when you get home, then. A seizure presenting like that for that long is very abnormal. And if you have another one, definitely go to the ER." She leaned down to hand you some extra syringes filled with the rescue medication, just in case it were to happen again.

"Right," Seiko muttered to themselves while you knelt next to them with your hand in theirs. You took the medication Ieiri offered with your free hand and glanced worriedly at Seiko.

"Gojo," she looked over toward him as he now stood casually with his hands in his pockets, "take me home, please." She felt hesitant to leave you, but knew she could be one phone call away should you need it.

"Yes, ma'am," Satoru chuckled and placed a hand on her shoulder, suddenly teleporting them out of the room.

With that, you and Seiko were left to your own devices. You helped them up so that they could sit properly on the sofa. Their muscles still ached, their face contorted with pain as you moved them. Once you had them seated, you took a step back and crossed your arms. You had a look of disapproval.

"Can you please tell me what's going on?" You nearly begged with a bit of attitude in your voice. "I know you don't have epilepsy. You would've told me or it should've come up one way or another. I doubt you'd really keep something like that a secret from me. ...Would you?"

They stared at you with hesitance, their mind searching their options. It seemed like they were almost listening to someone that only they could see. "It was controlled...until now," they lied through their teeth. "And don't talk about secrets," they began while glaring up at you. "We're here because of your arranged marriage you somehow 'failed' to tell me about. And you spent the night at his place as if that was something I can just shrug off." Hatred seeped into their words. You'd honestly never seen Seiko like this before. It was as if they were suddenly an entirely different person.

"Nothing happened, Seiko." Now you, too, were in on the lies.

"Oh please," they rolled their eyes and stood up, albeit with pain. You had never taken note of their height until now as they stared you down. "Like I'm going to believe that for a second!"

You backed up from their imposing figure with a scowl. "You should if you expect me to believe you didn't consume a cursed object!" You pointed to yourself, finger hard to your chest. Seiko remained silent as their anger stewed. They took note of the faint feeling within them, they were on borrowed time. "Am I even talking to Seiko right now?!" You genuinely asked.

"Of course you are," Seiko growled before walking past you to the bedroom. They then slammed the door shut and locked it behind them.

You took a deep breath to steady yourself. This trip was not shaping up to how you wanted it to. Any and everything was going wrong. The tension in the room was palpable as you stood alone in the living area, your heart heavy with the weight of uncertainty and the secrets that now divided you and Seiko. You knew they were lying about the epilepsy, and you had your suspicions about their recent strange behavior and the possession they were hiding. You couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the complexity of the situation. You weren't sure if Seiko was doing this to protect you or if something far more sinister was at play. In any case, you knew you needed to find the truth, and you needed to do it quickly.

As minutes turned into hours, you realized that Seiko wasn't coming out of the bedroom. You considered knocking, trying to engage in conversation, but your earlier confrontation was still fresh in your mind. You had to be patient, give them space to process everything, just as you needed time to figure out the whole story. 

You glanced at your phone and contemplated reaching out to Ieiri, but it was getting late...or early in this case, and she had already been through so much that night. You didn't want to burden her further. You sighed deeply, feeling the weight of the chaos around you. The room grew dark as the night pressed on, and you were left alone with your thoughts, unable to escape the web of secrets that had entangled your life since you'd reunited with Gojo. Sleep remained elusive, as did the answers you desperately sought.

When morning finally broke, you awoke after a too short slumber to sunlight coming into the floor-to-ceiling windows of your hotel room. Your head pounded from another night of heavy drinking and stress. You noticed the bedroom door was ajar and sat up further on the sofa you'd slept on. You turned your head to find Seiko calmly making some coffee in the kitchenette.

"Good morning," they greeted with a flat-lipped smile, sweetness radiating from them as if chaos hadn't reigned the night prior.

"Good morning?" You asked with a bit of grouchiness in your voice. You didn't appreciate the nonchalantness considering what had happened the night prior. "Are you okay now? Like what the hell is this change?"

Seiko gave a small reaction to your anger, briefly lifting their brow and giving a sigh. "I'd like to just move on, forget it ever happened."

"Forget?!" You scoffed and stood up, your hair a mess. You were still in your outfit from the club, makeup a bit smeared. "How can I forget when you suddenly had a crazy ass medical event and then treated me like shit afterward?!"

"It was a one-off thing. I'm okay. I just don't like being accused of something I didn't do," they looked up at you and gave you a knowing expression.

You remained silent for a few prolonged seconds as they took the first sip from their coffee. "I think it's time we head home," you sighed, allowing yourself to calm down. Something was still fishy, but you knew it would come to a head when it needed to. You loved Seiko, he wouldn't do something to hurt you intentionally. This hiccup was just part of life, you tried to convince yourself.

Seiko chewed on the inside of their cheek, disappointed in leaving with having done little to no sightseeing but they knew they'd be back another time. "Yeah," they agreed quietly. "I could go for a bit of normal right now."

That afternoon, you were able to reschedule your train ride and shorten your registered stay with the hotel. You couldn't get a refund for the entirety of your stay, but you were too drained to argue with the concierge. 

As you and Seiko packed your belongings to return to Hokkaido, you hoped that leaving Tokyo would offer a fresh start, a chance to unravel the complicated web of secrets and lies that had marred your trip. Your recent encounters with Gojo had added further tension to an already tumultuous situation, and you longed for a clean break.

You and Seiko were completing one last look over of the room to make sure you weren't leaving anything behind, suitcases positioned by the door as you scanned the living area. Just when you thought you were finally going to leave the city and all its complications behind, you heard a voice from behind you. Turning around, you found Gojo standing at your hotel room's entrance, a self-assured grin on his face that never seemed to waver. He'd ported into the room unannounced. It was something you recalled him doing frequently throughout your marriage, showing up anywhere he pleased without a care.

"Leaving already, Y/N? I thought we could catch up some more," Gojo teased, his presence filling the room his undeniably irritating charm. 

Seiko, who had been helping you pack, tensed noticeably, their expression a mix of suspicion and irritation. Gojo's tone didn't help. It clearly hinted at possibilities Seiko had been dwelling on since that night. 

They stepped forward, positioning themselves protectively in front of you, a clear sign of their discomfort around Gojo. "We've had enough of the games," they retorted with an edge in their voice. You were a bit speechless at Seiko's sudden charge of action. Usually they'd be a bit more subdued, letting you take the reins, especially if it were your business.

Gojo's grin widened as if he enjoyed the confrontation. "Games? Oh, I'm just here to say my goodbyes properly," he said, his tone laced with a hint of mischief.

Why did he think now was a good time for this?! You could see the mischievous spark in his eye, and your heart sank, knowing that this encounter was far from over.

Seiko continued to stand firm, guarding you, but you knew this was a battle you couldn't afford. "We're leaving, Gojo. We have nothing more to say to you," you stated firmly, picking up your suitcase handle and titling it on its wheels.

Gojo's carefree facade faltered briefly, and for a moment, you saw a glimpse of sincerity in his eyes. "Y/N, I..." he started but then hesitated when he looked back toward Seiko's fiery gaze. You were torn between anger and curiosity, but you couldn't bring yourself to wait for him to finish. Not this time.

As you walked toward the door, Gojo's expression shifted to one of vulnerability, but he didn't try to stop you. Instead, he stepped aside to let you open the door and head into the hallway. Seiko cast one last distrustful look at Gojo before following you out of the room.

Outside the hotel, you and Seiko made your way to the waiting taxi, the tension between you heavy as the car pulled away from the hotel. You couldn't help but wonder what Gojo had been about to say, but you also knew that staying would only lead to more complications. It was time to put Tokyo behind you and face the unknown in Hokkaido, hoping for a fresh start and some much-needed answers.

#gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojou x reader #gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo x you #gojou satoru x you #satoru gojou x you #gojo satoru x y/n #satoru gojo x y/n #gojou satoru x y/n #satoru gojou x y/n #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojou satoru #satoru gojou #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

[toxinoire]

Finally, I can write again!

This is how I visualize the final scene went down. A mix of both the 1988 movie and the musical.

~~~~~~

"Say hi to God."

Kaboom

Veronica, with a cigarette between her fingers and a sprained ankle, made her way through the school hallway as the other students ran past her to see where the explosion came from.

She contemplated.

She feels nothing.

Is she happy that four people had to fucking die? Absolutely not.

But...

When she looks at who are dead, Heather Chandler, Kurt Kelly, Ram Sweeney, Jason Dean...

Honestly she only feels bad for Heather. Because as much of a bitch as she was, she had her good moments. Moments that made her seem slightly human.

Kurt and Ram, she doesn't care. Those two were rapists. She doesn't like that she pulled the trigger, but Kurt and Ram being dead meant nothing to her.

As for JD....

She hopes he sees his mother. She hopes his father grows a brain and realizes his son is gone because he was never a father to him.

But as for him literally exploding in front of her...

She feels nothing.

She can only mourn that JD she first met, the lost boy who wanted his mother and was sweet, kind, a gentleman, and caring. Not the one that died in front of her.

The crowds moved past her, Veronica is too tired to even care that no one is asking what happened to her, why she looks disheveled and has blood running down her head.

Well,

Someone did say something.

"Veronica." Heather Duke called her, in all red. Veronica can't deny that she looks good in it, but still, she hates her in it. "You look like hell." Heather Duke moved closer to her, as if to inspect her. Veronica notices the slight concern in her eyes, and how she seems to be holding back her hands from reaching out to Veronica.

Veronica hates that last detail. Heather used to always reach out to her.

"Yeah?" Veronica chuckles. "I just got back."

Then, another voice calls her. "Veronica!"

Veronica and Heather Duke turn around to see Heather McNamara running to them. "Where have you been?!"

Heather Mac looks worried. Like, really really worried. "Miss Flemming told us you killed yourself." Heather Mac actually reaches out to her, inspecting her injuries, before she rests her hands on Veronica's face.

Veronica doesn't even hide how she leans into the touch.

She then sees the red fucking scrunchie and snaps back to where she is.

Veronica moves closer to Heather Duke and turns her around to take that damn thing off her.

"Veronica, what are you doing?" Heather Duke asks.

The students who were originally going to run past them stops in their tracks when they see Veronica with the scrunchie.

She wears it on her wrist and raises it up.

Time to actually do something.

"Listen up folks, war is over. Brand new sheriff's come to town." Veronica knows she sounds tired, but fuck that. "We are done with acting evil, we will lay out weapons down." She ties her hair with the scrunchie.

Everyone is watching her.

Good.

"We're all damaged, we're all frightened, we're all freaks. But that's alright. We'll endure it, we'll survive it-" Veronica pauses slightly when she sees Betty and Martha by the crowd. She calls them. "Martha, Betty."

They both turn to look at her, clearly resisting the urge to move. Veronica takes a deep breath. "Are you free tonight?"

Martha and Betty look at each other, before turning back to Veronica. They actually move forward this time.

It was silent for a while.

"What?" Martha breaks the silence.

"Uh, my date to pep rally blew-"

Accidental slip

"-me off..."

That's better

"So I was wondering if you guys weren't doing anything tonight we could pop some jiffy pop? Rent a video?" Veronica can hear how hopeful she sounds.

She doesn't have the right to be hopeful after what she did, but she still is.

"Something with a happy ending." She finishes. Veronica really wants a happy ending right now.

"Are there any happy endings?" Martha asks. Gosh, she sounds so tired. Betty isn't even looking at her in the eye.

Veronica looks at everyone around them and sighs. She turns back to her--hopefully still best friends. "I can't promise no more Heathers, high school may not ever end." She steps closer. "Still I miss you, I'd be honored-" She swallows. "If you'd let me be your friend."

"My friend." Martha says, as she takes Veronica by the hand and pulls her into a hug.

"We can be seventeen. We can learn how to chill." Veronica feels tears form in her eyes as Martha joins her. "If no one-"

Then, Betty joins them. "-loves me now, someday somebody will." She finally meets Veronica's gaze. "We can be seventeen. Still time to make things right. One day we'll change the world, but let's kick back tonight."

This time, it's Veronica who reaches out her to Heather Duke and Heather Mac.

Heather Mac immediately grabs her hand. "Let's go be seventeen. Take off our clothes and dance."

Veronica walks, well, limps, towards Heather Duke and reaches out, a silent plea in her eyes. Heather Duke hesitantly takes her hand, and once she has fully held it, Veronica pulls her into a hug.

Heather Duke puts one hand on Veronica's back, lightly returning the hug. But she grips onto Veronica's jacket as if it's a lifeline.

Veronica sighed. She really missed her. She didn't like what the scrunchie turned her into.

But holy shit, did she missed her.

"Act like we're all still kids, cause this could be our final chance."

Veronica smiles as she sees Betty, Martha, Heather M, and Heather D all try to be nice to each other.

Maybe they can all be friends.

Now everyone is joining them.

"Always be seventeen

Celebrate you and I

maybe we won't grow old.

And maybe then we'll never die."

Veronica feels happy. Genuinely, happy.

She missed that.

"We'll make it beautiful."

Veronica swears she hears Heather Chandler's voice.

"We'll make it beautiful.

Beautiful

Beautiful

Beautiful

Beautiful

Beautiful

Beautiful

Beautiful

Beautiful"

This really feels like a win for Veronica.

#heathers the musical #heathers 1988 #heathers #veronica sawyer #heather duke #heather mcnamara #heather chandler #jason dean #martha dunnstock #betty finn #chansaw #dukesaw #mcnamawyer #mcduke #poly!heathersxveronica #jdronica #at least they're implied #yay i found the motivation to write a short fic again #heathers fanfiction

[allmyocsarebritish]

Disclosed practice

Pairing: Wednesday X Reader

Warnings(?): Pirhana in pool 👍, first fic I ever wrote :)

A/N: I really need to catch my Tumblr up to my AO3

It was Dalton.

Of course it was; it always was.

The blonde jock and his group of cronies made it their mission to make your days a misery.

You had been minding your own business, retrieving textbooks from your locker for your next lesson, English Literature, when he came sauntering over to you.

A rough tap (more of a whack) on your shoulder made you spin around. You rolled your eyes when met with Dalton's smug smirk.

"Hey, emo freak," He taunted as you leaned against the scarlet door of your locker. He was clearly picking a fight, and knew you wouldn't back down, even if it was blatantly obvious you would lose. You weren't stupid, but you certainly weren't one to submit without giving it your all. And, your scabbed knuckles reminded you that you had a reputation to protect. "Where's your little pig tail friend?"

"She had the sense to leave when she saw your ugly face."

It was a petty remark, truly, but still enough apparently.</p>

Crunch.

Dalton's fist came down on your nose. Hard. It was excruciatingly painful, but there was no way you were going to let him see that.

"Is that all you can do?"

Your studded combat boot kicked him in retaliation. Big mistake, considering your significant size difference, but if you were going to get beat up, you would give him a reason. Despite the pummeling you were actively in receipt of, you weren't scared of Dalton. You weren't weak; you were sure you repaid the damage he caused, just not enough to take down the idiotic athlete. He was a coward, seeking you out so he could feel some kind of power when the fight you raised was practically in vain. He was an imbecile, he never came out unscathed, yet you were always worse off, and evidently that was enough. All brawn with no brain, as Wednesday put it.

Truthfully though, you couldn't really be frightened of anyone, especially not when..

"If you wish to keep your hands, then I would suggest that you keep them to yourself."

Despite the blood spraying out of your nose (in a way that was reminiscent of a sprinkler) you smiled as the ravenette strode over.

"You really think I'm scared of two tiny little emos?" The jock scoffed.

"Do you remember what happened last time we did this dance?" Your girlfriend stared at him, emotionless and unblinking.

Although he was clearly unnerved, for a moment it appeared Dalton was actually going to initiate. Though ultimately his singular, miniscule brain cell decided it wasn't worth the likelihood of death at the hands of Wednesday Addams.

He loudly scoffed and walked away.

Though she did not convey anything outwardly, you knew Wednesday was furious.

"Are you alright, Cara Mia?" She questioned, concern evident in her eyes to you, though to everyone else it would never have been apparent.

How you loved the fact only you could read her emotions.

"I'm even better now you're here." You responded with a dorky smile as she stared at you, unamused.

You weren't weak, she knew you were able to defend yourself to some extent, but there was no way she would ever let some fool hurt you, and moreover, she could tell that the constant physical altercations were taking a toll on you. Bruised under eyes, bloody, red knuckles and cuts all over would have been a delight for her on anyone else, but on you?

No, you were different. And she would have her vengeance on Dalton.

No-one torments Wednesday's girlfriend but her.

That's how she ended up floating eerily yet gracefully down the corridor and into the boy's weekly swimming practice.

"Hey freak, this is a closed practice." Her victim chided, erupting a chorus of snickers.

"No-one torments my friends but me." She announced.

"What friends?" A smart aleck called out, though visibly regretted it when Wednesday revealed her choice of weapon.

She dramatically raised the two bags of piranha before dropping them into the water. The cowardly athletes began to scream and whine, frantically splashing and flailing.

The corners of Wednesday's lips began to rise up as the chlorine filled water stained red with Dalton's blood.

So what if she were expelled. He deserved it for hurting Wednesday's girl.

#netflix wednesday #wednesday #wednsday addams #wednesday addams #wednesday adams x reader

[canarydarity]

hello,, remember that Jimmy centric harbinger of death au I mentioned months back? Have a snippet of a scene from the first chapter :) (which will be posted in full soon!)

“Jimmy, look out!” 

From over his shoulder, he hears it—the spark and a slight buzz, like static; for a weird second, he thinks of the radio and the crackling, the sand in the desert. But he knows better, he knows that hiss, a sound that haunts him both awake and asleep. It doesn’t matter that he was just facing that direction and had seen no sign of any creepers—there was a conditioned response to what he just heard, everyone has one; Jimmy’s is to drop, ducking to the ground hands up and over his head—not that they would’ve done anything to protect him had the threat been real. 

And while nothing happened—no crater dug itself into the ground, no hole ripped itself through his barely-armored body, no gasp as he woke up back in that desert—the panic was most definitely real. Seasoned target of one too many jokes, following the usual progression Jimmy knows the anger comes next; the panic would fade upon the realization that the threat wasn’t real and the annoyance at whatever joke was played would take its place, no less insistent and intense as the feeling before it. But as Jimmy cowers on the ground, catching his breath, his hands frantically cataloging limbs and appendages and understanding he was fine, he doesn’t find that his fear gives way to anger—his fear wasn’t giving away at all. 

His ears are ringing, which is weird because there had been no actual explosion. The noise came from somewhere—probably a disc if he had to guess—but it was pre-recorded, only a playback of some other detonation, it shouldn’t have nearly been enough to do any real damage. And it didn’t seem to for anyone else either, if the laughter he vaguely hears behind him is any sort of indication. The perpetrators are fine, but even so, Jimmy’s head rocks like there had been a blast, like he needs time to recover. 

No matter how many times he repeats to himself that nothing had happened, that it was just a stupid prank, he can’t seem to calm down. 

A hand touches his arm and he flinches hard, blinking up to find Scott just trying to help him to his feet. “Easy, Jimmy, easy.” Jimmy lets Scott pull him until he’s standing, brushing him off. 

Martyn is still laughing at his own prank, wiping a tear from below his eye, practically wheezing; it’s unclear how much of it is real and how much is for show. “I have gotten a one hundred percent success rate with that,” he brags with a happy sigh, hands out to his sides, inviting them to join in on his praise. “I gotta say, I’m pleased.”  

“What was that noise?” Jimmy asks, but his question goes unanswered. 

“He got me as well,” Scott says, but then he turns to look at Jimmy with a smirk. “But not nearly as aggressively as he got you, Jimmy.” 

Jimmy wants to join them in their amusement, he really does, but his heart rate hasn’t quite recovered yet. He’s embarrassed, almost, to still be feeling it. He blinks a few times hoping to clear something in his brain, begging himself to calm down, to chill out before someone notices. 

But of course, the next thing Martyn says is “Just a music disc Tim, jeez, you alright there?” Not sounding at all actually concerned about Jimmy’s state of being; his deceptively kind words more an excuse to poke at Jimmy’s weak spots than actually inquire about his feelings.

He wants to play it cool, to take the joke as easily as he’s sure the others have, but instead on instinct his shock makes him shove his arm in Martyn’s face, crowing “I’ve got goosebumps, Martyn, look!” 

Martyn draws back in his distaste, his own hand coming up to push Jimmy’s arm back down and away. “Yep, I see that alright, thank you.”

Scott pats Jimmy twice on the shoulder, something he’s quickly getting sick of happening in this sort of context.

“I’ve got a few more people to get with it, though, so—” Martyn says, clearly trying to take his leave now that he did what he came here to. “Actually,” he interrupts himself, “have you seen Grian anywhere?”

Scott shakes his head, “No, I—”

And—maybe just a moment behind—Jimmy understands he means to repeat the prank again, and speaks without really thinking about it or meaning to for the second time today. 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, actually.” 

Martyn’s eyes dart away from him and then back again like he's giving some sort of aside to an audience, acknowledging the weirdness of Jimmy’s comment with a 3rd party who’s in on the bit. “Um, what?”

Jimmy ignores the feeling that he’s walking himself into a joke, calling on Martyn to pick him apart like usual—because the feeling of wrong wrong wrong wrong is so much stronger. His ears are still ringing from the explosion that didn’t happen, and he rubs a hand over one of them trying to make it go away before he answers, but for some reason, that only makes it louder. 

He winces, both from the pain and the knowledge that he knows exactly how this conversation is going to go over before he even starts it. 

“I said you oughta stop that.” He tries to be firm, but from the smirk on Martyn’s face, he’s not going to succeed. It makes Jimmy double down, rush the rest of the sentence out of his mouth as quickly as possible, trying to avoid the possibility of being dismissed. “Someone could get seriously hurt!”

“It’s not a real creeper though, is it Timmy?” 

Jimmy feels the helpless frown settle on his face, and the frustration that comes with knowing he's going to lose but not wanting to give up; he acts and speaks with the same level of intensity as he does with everything else, but there's an underlying urgency here that he does not doubt even though he doesn’t quite understand its cause. He doesn’t bother answering Martyn’s question, knowing at least enough to understand that he isn’t meant to. 

“I still don’t think you should be doin’ that though!” He argues, and the worst possible turn the conversation could take begins from there; dismissal of the point that the prank is potentially dangerous for the more amusing idea that Jimmy is a sore participant. 

Martyn rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. “Oh come on,” he drawls. “Take a joke, take a joke…” 

Jimmy groans, “But Martyn, I think th—”

Martyn groans back, “But Timmy!” 

Scott laughs and Jimmy turns to glare at him, giving up on his sentence halfway through. 

Martyn takes the distraction as his leave, already having jogged halfway across the tiny valley by the time Jimmy looks back in his direction. 

“You’re gonna kill someone with that!” Jimmy yells after him, but Martyn is ignoring him and making really exaggerated gestures of goodbye, like he's just given a performance and the crowd is shouting for an encore. He brings both hands to his mouth and blows a kiss to his imaginary admirers, then clasps his hands together giving a large bow; waving, smiling, mouthing thank you. 

Jimmy calls again “I’m serious Martyn!” But his friend fakes a laugh and says “oh, you’re all too kind!” Before disappearing over the crest of the mountain across them.

#first full chapter to come somewhere in the next 1-2 weeks ! #sentinel species au #worm writes #i just wanted to post this and jog some memory before i posted the first chapter #and to keep up my motivation as i keep writing LOL #jimmy solidarity #solidaritygaming #life series #life series fic #jimmy solidarity fic #third life fic #trafficblr #team rancher #team rancher fic

[tangibletechnomancy]

Saw someone earlier say that the popular millennial/early gen Z reaction to AI tech is very comparable to Gen X-ish's reactions to GMOs, and...I can no longer find that post but I can't help but feel that to be true on a lot of levels.

As stated in that post, both technologies have their very legitimate problems - with GMOs, it's Monsanto being fucking evil and trying to monopolize plants and food, or GMO herbicide resistance being used so that major corporate farms can saturate the land with said herbicides without any short-term financial damage to the companies as if it doesn't harm the environment; with AI, it's any form of automation always appealing to the most abusive of corporate greed - but both ended up whipped into a dogmatic fervor about something completely not only irrelevant but made-up and reactionary ("GMOs are all POISON, nature knows best ALWAYS!" - which led semi-directly to the antivaxx movement btw / "it doesn't matter how different it is from the input taking inspiration from existing works the WRONG way is PLAGIARISM, you're rewarding LAZINESS, and REAL ART vs. FAKE ART is totally an objective distinction that can be made and certainly not at all a fascist talking point, and I want art made by HUMANS, the humans running these programs to express something from their human brains don't count!"), completely ignoring that GMOs have reduced world hunger and given us valuable conservation tools, and AI is giving people - real people, not machines - more expressive capacity, serving as a valuable research tool into what kinds of things people tend to associate, justly or otherwise; and even being used to augment human judgment for things such as reviewing biopsy results, finding cancers that otherwise may have gone unnoticed for months or even years longer. In fact, many opponents will full on deny any of these benefits - "what good does reducing hunger do if we haven't eliminated it completely AND we're feeding people POISON? In fact, why should I even believe that really happened in the first place!? if you wanted laypeople to be able to read these studies you wouldn't have made them so complicated, you CLEARLY have something to hide!" the anti-GMO warrior asks; "I don't believe those people who are so severely disabled that they couldn't draw or write without AI REALLY exist, your meditation on the nature of data doesn't COUNT, I don't care how many hours you spent on that piece you're TOTALLY being lazy, and I refuse to believe anyone who points out that it's not a copy-paste machine because you CLEARLY have an AGENDA to lie" the anti-AI reactionary claims. Both hold to a belief that ignorance is a virtue, and even TRYING to understand the Bad Side is tantamount to shoving orphans into a wood chipper.

But I'd take it a step further and say that AI is serving a similar sociopolitical purpose in that it's drawing a line in the sand and asking progressives at a certain stage in life - mostly from the ages of 25-35 - "are you willing to acknowledge nuance around subjects that are new and scary to you, or are you going to give into that fear and treat ignorance as a virtue because there ARE undeniably bad things about this and therefore EVERY bad thing you can imagine about it must be true?" Both serve as, essentially, an acid test - will you declare that it's IMPOSSIBLE to be reckless with GMOs, that Monsanto DESERVES to have sole control over the world's food supply because ~they've done so much good~, or that all GMOs are EVIL POISON and GOING TO KILL US ALL and they're also TOTALLY the reason we're all FAT now which is THE WORST thing a person can be? Or are you going to acknowledge that Monsanto is fucking evil, but GMOs as a whole are a complex thing that can, indeed, be created and marketed in some pretty evil ways, but also have the potential to save countless lives? Will you declare that AI is True Sentient AI, the cyber-utopia becoming real; that everything ChatGPT says must be true and OpenAI is our best friend, or that REAL art by HUMANS is going to be destroyed forever and anyone who benefits from AI is inherently evil? Or will you acknowledge that AI, while it has its drawbacks in the form of corporate overpromising people and compromising information reliability by doing so, on top of the perennial labor issues that come with automation and other potential abuses, also has the capacity to dramatically improve and even potentially save lives? Will you work to save the good WHILE rejecting the bad, or will you insist it needs to be shoved in either the good box or the bad box - probably the bad box, if you're an adult?

The answer, I feel, says a lot about the ideological trajectory someone has chosen for their adulthood.

#not art

[wonwoosthetic]

Amour-Haine & Co. | Chapter 12 |

series masterlist

word count - 8.2k

A/N: before anyone comments it: wonwoo and chanyeol haven’t met yet properly, just you wait ;)

"You do remember that I've had you naked on my desk, right?"

Another day, another morning your car decided to betray you and not let you start its engine, explaining why you were, once again, entering the office clearly out of breath. You were still cursing the people pushing you around in the tube and on the bus, trying to wrap your head around the fact that some do this every day. 

Once you had settled down in your office and gotten rid of your jacket, hanging it over your chair, you threw yourself onto it, letting a heavy breath fall from your lips. Your eyes fell on the little post-it notes in front of you, and you reached out, grabbed a pen along the way and wrote down the note you had kept in your head ever since you had to run to the bus station to not be too late to work.

Call car dealership, end lease, find new car.

Done.

You had about another minute of silence when the thought you had been pushing down so much crossed your mind as soon as your eyes fell on the calendar on your desk. 10 am today. The meeting. It was the day Wonwoo, Mingyu, and you would have the pre-trial conversation with their lawyer Lee Jihoon. A day you had been dreading for a while now. Everything just suddenly seemed to hit - the reality of it. The lawsuit was really happening, you'd be in a courtroom with the two CEOs, your lawyer, Chanyeol, and his lawyer as well, and whoever he decides to bring along. How were you going to survive that? That was yet to be thought of because as of right now, your mind could not gift you any possible good outcome of what was going to happen. You just hoped and prayed that there was some way to get out of this mess with the least amount of damage possible. 

You let your eyes scan the room you were in, taking in every piece of furniture while these thoughts kept racing through your brain, trying to make you even more nervous than you already were, and winning you over. Once your head was straight and your line of sight was fixed on the room across from you, you tried to make out the silhouette of the CEO that was supposed to be there, but were met with emptiness, making you frown. Where was he? It was only 9:23... he never leaves his office that early...

"Miss Yoon?" A sudden voice took you aback. You turned your head to the door, where the soft tone came from and were sent a kind smile by one of the office's employees, "I'm sorry to interrupt you, I just have a quick question."

"Yeah, sure," you nodded and motioned for her to come closer, "Come in," before sitting up straighter, noticing the way your body was lounging in the chair.

-

A good 30 minutes later, you were alone in your office again, eyes trained on the clock as you watched the thinnest hand move second by second. 9:55, and still no sight of Wonwoo. He hadn't been in his office ever since you had been there, and it made you wonder - it was very unusual for him to be somewhere other than in his little room. 

Once your colleague had left, you had a few minutes to yourself to think about what was to come. What would you talk about to Lee Jihoon? What questions would he ask you? What would this meeting turn into? It was the fact that you truly didn't know what to expect that made you so unweary. But before you could let all of those questions get to your head, a silhouette walking past your windows brought you out of your trance.

"Hey," Mingyu let his head peek into your office, "How are you?" 

You put on a wide smile after hiding a big gulp, "Yeah... I'm good..." but definitely not hiding how anxious you were.

"You okay?" He wondered, taking a few more steps towards you, stopping in front of your desk. You tried to not but could tell that it must've looked very hesitant, "Yup..." 

The tone of your voice made Mingyu chuckle, "Jihoon's not gonna end your career, he'll save it if anything, so don't be nervous," sending you a reassuring smile and nodding towards the door, "Come on, they're waiting."

"They?!" You quickly shot up and the mention of multiple people, but the co-CEO's laugh calmed you down again,

"Wonwoo and Jihoon." Oh, right. You facepalmed yourself mentally for reacting in such a way, completely realising how you were overthinking every little detail. Then again, you reasoned it with the fact that this was the biggest thing you ever had to deal with in your entire life, and it should not be taken lightly. Mingyu's words continued running through your head. Maybe Jihoon couldn't end your career, but you knew that Chanyeol most definitely could. And that terrified you.

On the way to the meeting room, Mingyu went on to explain a little bit about their lawyer and how they knew him and what he would be talking about - as much as you wanted to actively listen to him, you just couldn't. There was too much going on in that little head of yours to focus on anything outside of it. Thankfully, you reached the conference room quickly and were greeted at the door by the two others you were expecting to see. The man, whose eyes had been on you ever since you had walked around the corner, and the other one, a good head smaller than Wonwoo, who you assumed would be Lee Jihoon. The CEO tapped the lawyer's shoulder and pointed towards you and Mingyu, making him turn around.

"Oh, there you are," he smiled before directing his body towards you, "I'm Jihoon, nice to meet." You accepted his extended hand and shook it politely,

"Y/N, nice to meet you too." As your eyes left him, they focused on the man behind him, greeting him with a soft smile as well, getting a nod in return - still cold.

"Alright," Mingyu didn't even let you get into a conversation as he clapped his hands, "Should we start?" You all nodded in agreement and went ahead to enter the room while Wonwoo kept standing on the side, waiting for the three of you to walk in first. You were behind Jihoon and Mingyu but were stopped by a gentle touch on your arm. By turning your head to the side, you were met with Wonwoo's dark eyes on you, closer than you expected as he had leaned in to whisper to you,

"You don't have to be nervous, you know?"

You shook your head, "I'm not."

The CEO raised an eyebrow, his gaze still fixed on you as his fingers trailed down your arm, sending a comfortable shiver through your body, to grasp your hands and bringing them up. The sudden touch almost made you gasp as you didn't expect him to do this. His eyes changed their focus to your hand in his, making you do the same, coming to sight with the nail polish you had put on perfectly the day before, only for it to now be picked off almost completely. You didn't even realise you had been doing this the entire time.

"Not nervous?" He teased you, to which you just shook your hand out of his touch and shook your head again,

"No." And left him in the hallway to make your way into the room when you caught the deep but quiet chuckle that tumbled from his lips before he followed you inside.

After all four of you had taken a seat, Mingyu and you on one side, while Jihoon and Wonwoo sat opposite from you, the lawyer brought out multiple pieces of paper stacked together and handed out one pack to each one of you.

"This looks like a lot more than it actually is," he started explaining, "These just inform you of everything that you of your rights, what you might face in court, and what could but will not happen." You listened attentively, your heart beating hard against your chest.

"Will not happen because you can help us?" Mingyu wondered, to which Jihoon nodded,

"Exactly. So no worries."

Before you could stop yourself, you let the words fall from your mouth, "How are you so sure?" Raising your head, you felt three pairs of eyes fixed on you, their eyebrows raised at the sudden question, making you nervous. "I-I mean," you stuttered, "Not that I'm questioning your abilities, b-but-"

"I get it," he kindly stopped you with a curl of his lips, "But I'm really going to do my best, I can promise you that. I was just hoping to assure you." You nodded. You understood what he was trying to do and we're more than thankful that he was doing this, but you couldn't help to let your worries continuously run around in circles in your brain.

Wonwoo cleared his throat and leaned back in the chair, the papers in his hands as he flickered through them, "Jihoon is the best in his field. We have nothing to be worried about. The others should be scared."

"You don't know them," you told him, slightly more defensive than you wanted to and watched him carefully as he lifted his head to meet your gaze across the table, a soft chuckle leaving his lips,

"And you do?" His question made you go quiet quickly and put your head back down, trying to put your focus back on the words in front of you. You'd rather not answer his question. You would, once the time was right.

After a few seconds of silence, Jihoon took the word again, going through every single page with you, explaining each paragraph in detail, informing you about everything important that you needed to know. Never would you have ever imagined that sitting in front of a judge would need so much info. Thankfully, he also assured you that you would not have to remember every little thing that was listed on the papers, but that that was his job during the trial. The important thing for you was to know that if they were to catch you lying at any point while in court, this lawsuit could go on for a lot longer, and you would be in a lot more trouble than you already were. So just no lying. And to not let yourself get intimidated. By anyone. 

"Do you know who they're having as a lawyer?" Wonwoo wondered once the subject came up.

The younger one shook his head, "Sadly not. They're revealing the other names a few hours before the trial on the same day, so you can't prepare yourself for something specific, you know?"

The CEOs nodded, "Makes sense." How they were able to keep their cool about this whole situation was still a mystery to you.

An unexpected touch on your foot made you jolt up and look straight ahead, meeting Wonwoo's gaze that drifted down, looking at something in front of you quickly before coming back up again. You lowered your focus, finding your fingers that were, once again, picking at the leftover nail polish. You pushed your hands apart and placed them on your laps, hiding them from everyone at the table.

"Okay," Jihoon's voice rang through the room, "Now that we're done with the bureaucratic stuff, there's still a bit for me personally. A few things I need to know."

"Like?" Mingyu questioned him, putting down the pieces of paper and crossing his arms.

The lawyer took a notebook and a pen, clicking it once, "Basic info. Mostly about the day."

"But we already told you about that," the man next to you told him.

"Yeah, you, but I haven't talked to Y/N yet."

"Hm?" You raised your head at the mention of your name, but it was overheard by the two men that were involved in a conversation.

"What else can she tell-"

"She can speak for herself," Wonwoo interrupted Mingyu with one quick sentence, keeping his eyes on the papers, not even caring about looking up, knowing his words were enough to make everyone go quiet. As the room was muted for a little too long, the CEO lifted his gaze to find you and nodded, "Go on."

"Em..." you started, turning your attention towards Jihoon, "What exactly do you need?" Rubbing your hands over your thighs, realising how clammy they had gotten.

He shrugged, "Just some small things. Like, when did Mister Park show up?" His gaze was fixed on you, waiting for you to respond, "Oh, and," he added, "Please try to remember it as accurately as possible. No lies. If there's any kind of wrong information it could really get us into a bad place during the trial."

You nodded in understanding, but had to wait for a few more seconds, trying to remember everything that happened on that day, "I... ehm... it was shortly before our lunch break, so... a few minutes before 12 pm."

Jihoon accepted your answer, "Okay...," and noted down a few words, "And in the letter, it said that he had discussed it with you beforehand, is that true?" You nodded, so he continued, "Alright, and what did he say exactly?" There were quite a few things you'd rather forget when it comes to Chanyeol, and that day was definitely up on that list as well.

"He..." you thought again.

 “I ask you how you are. I think it’s only fair for you to also ask me. Don’t you think so, darling?”

“Well, you see… there’s one thing I really don’t appreciate.”

"He said that he didn't appreciate stealing something from other companies." A simple and truthful answer. A chuckle rang through your ears, making you turn your head to the man it came from, seeing Wonwoo put away the papers and shaking his head, seemingly amused by what you had said.

"Okay," Jihoon continued writing down in his notebook, "Did you know what he was talking about right away?"

"No," you were quick to shake your head, "Absolutely not because, I mean, I didn't spend a lot of time with the other departments, but they never fazed me as employees that would need to steal something. Whether that would be a program or whatever else."

"Because they didn't," Wonwoo commented with a sigh, "I don't know what that Park dude's problem is."

"But now we're sued, so something's clearly up," Mingyu spoke up, slightly annoyed at the mindset of his best friend because unlike him, Wonwoo was much more relaxed and clearly unfazed by everything that was happening - Mingyu was taking it much more serious.

The CEO shrugged, "Maybe he was just bored, who knows."

Before the younger one could argue back, Jihoon raised a hand, "Guys, please," sending a glare to both of them, "I'm trying to do my job here and maybe he said something to Y/N that will make us find out what his issue." The two others got quiet, deciding to let the lawyer do more of the talking as he turned his head back towards you, "Did he say anything else?" YOu gulped.

“You know I don’t like it when women curse like that.”

“I’m going to sue you. Well, not you directly. Oksan & Co. Just wanted to give you a head start,"

You shook away the memory of the sound of his voice, "No," and answered Jihoon, "Not much else. He just said he wanted to give me a head start before officially sending the lawsuit on paper."

The lawyer nodded, directing his pen down to the notebook but stopped shortly before it, scrunching his eyebrows, "Giving YOU a head start? Not the company in general, but you personally? Or you as in you in general? Like, you all, everyone here."

An unwanted nervous chuckle tumbled from your lips as you rubbed your hands together, "M-me personally?"

"Why would he mean that to her personally?" Wonwoo threw in a question, switching his gaze back and forth between you and his friend.

Jihoon shrugged, "I don't know, it could be," and raised his head, meeting your eyes, "Do you know him? Have you ever met him before?"

Have you ever met him before?

Have I? Oh, god... sadly, you have...

Met might be the wrong word though...

You immediately lowered your head to look down at your nails that were hardly covered by nail polish anymore. You shouldn't lie, you knew that. And the time now had come, where you had to let them know. Even though you were convinced that your relation to him had nothing to do with this case - or so you tried to convince yourself - the multiple conversations you had with Binna were still engraved in your brain, reminding you just how wrong you might be.

"Y/N?" You looked back up once you were addressed, meeting the wondering gazes of the three men.

"I-," you stopped yourself, letting the correct way of responding go through your head one more time, "We...," taking another deep breath for looking at the table, trying to avoid their eyes, "We used to be together..." You were afraid that your voice may had been too quiet, but were proven wrong only a second later once the reactions hit you. 

"What?!"

"Huh?!"

You could feel how the atmosphere changed immediately. With just those few words, you managed to create the most uneasy surrounding you could've ever imagined. That's how you knew you messed up...

While the two CEOs exclaimed their surprised reaction, Jihoon stayed quiet, but his eyebrows shot up as soon as those words left your lips. His mouth formed a thin line, and with a hesitant nod, he put his pen onto his notebook, not commenting on it any further.

"Wait what?" Mingyu wondered out loud, letting himself fall deeper into the chair, turning his head to look at you, who greeted him with a worried facial expression.

"He's my ex," you commented again, your voice still just quiet enough to be heard in a silent room.

A grunt from in front of you erupted, "We understood that." But you didn't even dare to turn your head.

"Oh wow..." Mingyu ran a hand through his hair as he sighed.

You straightened your back when the realisation of the situation hit you, almost sending a shiver down your spine. "But I don't see how my past relationship with him has anything to do with this," you explained, hoping to prove your point, when deep down you knew, you were most likely wrong.

Jihoon had put the pen down and leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, "I mean," he cleared his throat, "Who knows, you know? It's important that I'm informed about this, but... I obviously don't know how much it's going to affect the lawsuit." He took another breath before continuing, feeling the thickness of the air around you, "It does happen from time to time that exes try to revenge their past partners, so we shouldn't ignore that. I'm not going to focus on this solely, but I'm definitely gonna keep it in mind, and you all should too," he pointed a strict finger at each one of you at the table. "Especially you, Y/N. He will listen to every single word you say and since his lawyer probably also knows about your past, he'll definitely try to lead you onto something. Pick you apart psychologically or try to get something out of you. Be careful, alright?" To which you nodded.

"Why didn't you mention that earlier?" Mingyu asked you, looking straight at you with those kind eyes of his, hoping to show you his genuineness. You thought about that earlier because truth be told, you didn't know. If he were to ask Binna that question, she would tell him that you were too scared to face the truth. To face your past again. And she may or may not just be right about that, but you weren't ready to admit that yet. That man was haunting and taunting you again - the last thing you needed was to take a look into the past.

You shrugged slightly, "I didn't think it was that important."

A very deep sigh echoed through the quiet room before the CEO spoke up for the first time in a while, "Are we done?"

Jihoon looked up at him surprised, as Wonwoo had already stood up, not waiting for an answer, "I mean-"

"Great." He nodded and left the room without even thinking about gracing you with another word. You let your eyes follow his silhouette until it disappeared around the corner, which was when you went to eye the two men at the table again, who seemed to exchange a nod of their heads, making you frown.

Jihoon started packing his stuff back into his bag, "Well then," and sighed, "Let's end this here. I'm gonna send you a few more things within the next few days." He directed his attention toward you, "I got your e-mail address from Wonwoo, I hope that's okay," to which you nodded and he continued, "Please check your mails, guys. I'm also going to create a timetable for the day of the trial. There are still a few things I'd like to talk to you about. But let's do that on the day of." After he stood up, Mingyu and you followed his actions, already taking a few steps towards the door. The two of you escorted him to the elevators, where the co-CEO thanked his friend for his visit and shook his hand. The lawyer extended his hand in front of you, which you accepted gladly, smiling at him, "Thank you for your help."

Jihoon nodded, "Of course. You're welcome. Good luck until then." He was quick to leave once the elevator arrived, leaving Mingyu and you alone in the entrance hall.

-

The day had finally come to an end after you had put in a few extra hours for the project that was brought into your office three hours prior, analysing it and helping other employees with their ideas. And, of course, it had started raining. Because destiny loved you so much, it decided to let it pour down, while you remembered you were going to have to take public transport again, or opt for a taxi for your ride home. The second option seemed much more appealing, but you couldn't find any in the app on your phone, making you sigh and shake your head. Of course...

One quick look around your office also let you know of the fact that you didn't have an umbrella there anymore after having taken it home a few weeks ago. 

Just as you were about to leave, you wanted to say goodbye to the only person left on the floor, but one peek into his office confirmed his absence. He had been less and less in his office throughout the entire day... You shook the thought off, packed your things together and made your way downstairs, praying for finding an empty taxi on the street. As you walked through the foyer, you wished the security guards and other employees a good night before facing the heavy rain outside. As soon as you opened the door, your ears were filled with the loud noises of the drops hitting the ground and small puddles they had already formed. The fact that it was also already rather dark, it was hard to make out any specific cars on the road, and you knew that you probably had already let taxis past you. There was no way that you would be catching one. Every person that was on the pavement either was carrying an umbrella above their head or was getting into a car on the side of the street. And there were you, with your bag on the top of your head, hoping to keep at least some spots of your body dry.

With a sigh, you stopped at the crosswalk to get to the other side where the subway station would be if you were to walk a few hundred metres ahead. Once you got to the other side, you made your way forward, passing the people that were walking next to you, all in a hassle to get somewhere drier. 

Only after a few steps, you could've sworn you heard your name being called out, making you turn around, only to see nothing but people bumping into you by accident at your sudden halt. You went on with your walk, cursing in your head when the sound of thunder rang through your ears. It was just, once again, not your day. Stupid car, stupid public transport, stupid weather, stupid-

Two big hands on your shoulders made you jump suddenly, and a screech left your lips. In shock, you had lost the grip you had on your bag, making it almost drop to the floor, but only almost, as the person behind you caught it, bringing it up above your head immediately. Once you finally managed to look up, your heart still pounding heavily in your chest, you were met with the familiar dark eyes you had been missing most of the day.

"Wonwoo?" You wondered out loud, but the man didn't let you say any more words, just mumbling a quiet,

"Let's go," as he pushed you gently to move your body towards the side of the street, where a car was parked - a car you had definitely seen before. He opened the door quickly, motioning for you to get in, before closing the door and jogging towards the other side. Wonwoo got comfortable in the driver seat and managed to make his way back onto the street, entering the late hour traffic, coming to a halt only a few moments later due to a red light. That gave you the time to finally realise what had happened. Only seconds ago, you were getting drained in dirty rainwater, and now you were sitting in a heated seat in the car you never thought you'd ever be in ever again. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his hand reaching forward to push a few buttons on the middle part of the console.

"You scared the shit out of me," you let your head turn gently to the side, stopping for a second to see him raising the temperature inside of the car, before eyeing his side profile. Wonwoo kept his stone-cold expression, leaning his head on his hand of the arm that was prompt up against the window. His eyes were fixed on the road ahead.

"No thank you for saving my ass from the pouring rain?"

"I was on my to the subway station, so I would've been alright," you answered him back, intertwining your hands in your lap, not giving into the question he spat at you. His voice was laced with something you couldn't put your finger on exactly.

After he took a deep breath in and pushed the gas down to drive, he spoke up again, "I'm sorry for scaring you. I didn't mean to do that," his voice still icy cold.

You nodded, ignoring the tone, "Thank you for pushing me into your car and making everyone around us think you were probably kidnapping me." Even though he didn't say anything, you could see the slight shake of his head after your comment, making you smile softly, but quickly got yourself together again and brushed some of your hair out of your face. Then, silence filled the vehicle. But not the comfortable kind of silence you had shared with him before. This was the type of silence you had dreaded to come across with him again. Just quietness, where you could feel almost every muscle in your body tense up. A silence that was so quiet, you were too scared to breathe and break it with that. But you would've rather suffered through that more than to start a new conversation with the question he broke it with.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He caught you off guard, making you wonder,

"Tell you about what?"

He sighed, "That lovely little boyfriend of yours, Park Chanyeol."

"Don't," you quickly stopped him, straightening down the invisible wrinkles on your pants, "Don't call him that. We were together. Now we're not, and that's it. I don't want to hear the word lovely in the same sentence as his name."

"But why did you keep it a secret?" Wonwoo kept on nagging, making you direct your gaze from the window, back to his side profile.

"Because, like I said, I didn't think it was that important. We broke up like... two... three years ago."

The CEO shook his head again, "You seriously didn't think it would be important to know that you used to be with-"

"No, alright?!" You snapped, wanting to get the subject out of the way as quickly as possible, "No. No, I did not. And I know that it was a mistake, okay?! Can we drop this, please? Jesus..." a heavy sigh tumbled from your lips as you mumbled the last words, "Why do you keep on pushing this..."

"I keep on pushing it because it would've been nice to know in advance and not find out in front of Mingyu and Jihoon," he explained, keeping his voice down, but he couldn't surprise the tension of his body, gripping the wheel a little tighter.

"What's the difference?" You wondered, still clearly annoyed at him not stopping with the questions "You know now, and that's it. So, please..."

"You just shouldn't keep any more secrets. Even if you don't think it's necessary, it might be helpful for Jihoon," he stated, not even daring to look at you.

You nodded, "I know, and I won't. I promise."

"Good," he murmured under his breath. "Where's your car?" Wonwoo finally changed the subject, and you could feel your body relax immediately - as if a switch got flipped.

"For now, still in my garage. I hope the mechanics can pick it up tomorrow. Such a piece of metal trash," you cursed, making Wonwoo raise an eyebrow and slightly tilt his head towards you when you came to another stop.

"So you don't have a car right now?" To which you shook your head,

"Nope. I don't know what's broken, but something is and has been for a while, and I don't have the time nor the patience or understanding of what it is and how to get it fixed. I'm gonna have to get a new one soon." Just the mere thought of having to go through all of the bureaucracy of buying a car almost brought you a throbbing headache.

"Do you need someone to pick you up tomorrow?" His voice brought you out of your thoughts, and you shook your head,

"No, no. I'll take the bus and subway again."

"You do remember that I have a driver that could pick you up, right?" Wonwoo asked you, coming to another halt with his car.

You smiled, "Yes, I do remember him, and I don't want him to pick me up. Thank you, though." One quick look outside let you know that you had arrived home already - the car ride didn't feel that long eventually. Just as you were about to turn your head to thank the CEO for the lift, he had gotten out of his vehicle and rounded it to end up at your door, opening it and waiting for you to get outside, holding an opened umbrella.

"Thank you, you didn't have to do that," you told him, suddenly getting the feeling that your cheeks may have started to heat up, but you chose to ignore it as you hoped the rain covered some of it.

"It's alright," he assured you, getting a hold of your hand and bringing it up, so you were grasping the handle of the umbrella tightly. "Keep it until you get inside," he patted your hands before walking away, making his way to the driver's side again. You had so many questions to ask, but everything happened quicker than you wanted it to, and before you knew it, he was already getting into the car, after shouting a, "See you tomorrow!" over the loud noise of the rain. He didn't drive away just yet, but you took this as a sign to head towards your apartment building, and as soon as you closed the umbrella and walked through the entrance doors, you heard the engine of the vehicle fading into the darkness of the night.

-

Great, just great. As if having to use the public transport system wasn't worrying enough for you already, being late certainly was it. You didn't know where your head had been the night before, but for some reason, you hadn't managed to put your alarm clock on at the right time, explaining why you were now rushing through your apartment, putting on a blouse, trying to close the buttons while also making sure they were the right ones. You decided there was no time for make-up but that you'd have to do that in the bathroom of the office, nor was there any minute left to spare for your hair, so a ponytail will have to do. And, of course, since we have established that destiny was not your friend, the bell to your door had to ring, making you groan out loud. You were happy to see the deliveryman every other day of the week, but not when you were already running extremely late. 

With hasty steps, you crossed the floor, steadying yourself against the wall, before pressing the button to activate the speaker, "Hi, please leave the package with a neighbour, I'm sorry, but I'm alre-"

"Hate to break it to you, but I don't have a package for you. But I do have a car that's waiting for you here." The familiar deep voice of the man you had only just seen the night before rang through the speaker, making you frown.

"Wonwoo?" You wondered out loud, "What are you doing here?"

"Picking you up, what do you think? Believe it or not, it's not exactly my hobby to just wait at other people's doorsteps," he answered you, to which you rolled your eyes at the sarcastic commentary of his.

"You know what I meant."

"I know, but I'd also like to remind you that if you don't come down within the next few minutes, you're gonna be even later than you already are," he reminded you of the time - of course, you knew how late it already was.

"Yeah yeah, I'm coming!" You don't know if he said anything after that as your finger left the button, and you went back to getting everything ready to leave.

Make-Up was packed into your bag with everything else you might need, you had your clothes on, hair was done, and socks were on. Great. Then, only the shoes were missing, which you quickly put on before grabbing your jacket and heading out the door before you could worry any more about what you may have forgotten. On the way down in the elevator, you suddenly started your heart pumping a little harder against your chest again, making you reach up to touch it. This was getting annoying... 

The doors opened, and you got out, only to be greeted immediately with Wonwoo's frame already waiting for you behind the glass entrance doors, still waiting where he had rung your bell only a minute ago. When he saw you approaching the door, he took a step back and waited for you to come out.

"What are you doing here?" You didn't even open the door all the way when the words fell from your lips. He held onto the door and opened it more, letting you be able to drop your grip on the handle.

"I think what you meant to say was thank you for driving me to work," he smirked at you, his hands hidden in his pockets after he let the doors fall closed again.

"No, because I said yesterday that I don't need you to pick me up today," you crossed your arms, locking gazes with him as you noticed that he took a few steps closer.

"No," he smiled, "You said you didn't want my driver to pick you up." His statement made you glare at him, squinting your eyes before groaning out loud,

"Ugh, you're just like Binna," shaking your head afterwards.

Wonwoo frowned, "Binna?"

"My best friend," you mumbled, still in the thought of comparing the two with their statements.

He nodded, "Well, I mean, I'd love to keep on talking, but we've got an office to be at in," and looked down at the watch on his wrist, "hm... twenty minutes ago?"

"Twenty minutes already?!" You exclaimed, quickly getting ready to jog towards Wonwoo's car, but he didn't seem to want to stress himself in any way, so you turned around to face him again, "Are you gonna hurry up?" But he casually and slowly made his way towards you, keeping his hands in his pockets. Once he passed you, you could've sworn you heard a small chuckle that came from him, but you weren't sure and decided to let it slide, continuing to eye him confused as he kept up his slow walk towards the vehicle.

Both of you put on your seatbelts before he started the car, making sure that no other car was close so he could hit the streets. You were about to lean back and relax for the ride when you remembered something - you weren't wearing any make-up. Oh god, you totally forgot about that. You leaned forward to let your fingers hastily look for your little cosmetic bag, trying to fish it out. When you finally had it in your hands, you pushed down the sun cover on your side, praying it would have a mirror, which it thankfully did, and got to work right away.

Wonwoo saw what you wear doing out of the corner of his eye, "Why are you putting on make-up now?"

"Because I didn't have time earlier," you answered him, looking for the next make-up item, "And I wanted to do it in the office, but if I have time now, I might as well do it here."

He just nodded.

Another few moments passed in silence, this time a comfortable silence. A truly comfortable silence that you were able to enjoy. Or maybe you just told yourself that because you had other things to focus on anyway. 

Just when you were about to finish your routine, the peace of the small space was interrupted by Wonwoo,

"You buttoned your blouse wrong." His comment made you turn your head towards him, before looking down, only to realise that you in fact did. How did you not see that back at home?! You even checked, didn't you?

You couldn't help but to let a few curse words fall from your lips as you put the makeup away to free your fingers, so they could get to work on your top. But that's when it hit you what you were doing, just out in the open pretty much, so you turned to the side a little bit,

"Don't look," and warned Wonwoo of any intention he may have had, making him chuckle right as he turned on the indicator before he took a left.

"You do remember that I've had you naked on my desk, right?" He smirked at you. You gasped and turned your head to glare at him, but he didn't even care to change his facial expression, keeping up the smug grin of his.

"You-" you started, but cut yourself off with a shake of your head, "Unbelievable."

He shrugged, "It's the truth." To which you fished a Q-tip out of your cosmetic bag and threw it at him,

"Stop," to warn him, but it only made him chuckle again.

For some reason, this scene felt... nice. Comfortable in a way. It was just the two of you and even though you were in quite a compact space, it didn't feel like it at all. You didn't feel restricted or uncomfortable. Hearing Wonwoo laugh like this next to you was something you didn't want to leave as a one-time-only experience.

-

The time passed too quickly and suddenly, within the blink of an eye, you were standing in front of the courtroom. Your legs were shaking, your arms were quivering, and you didn't even trust your voice to let any steady words out. There was too much going on - too much you weren't prepared for. Even with the help and preparation of Jihoon, you couldn't push down the anxiety that was rushing through your body faster than the speed limit on highways.

Some people had already filled some seats in the room, but you couldn't even bring yourself to peek inside, scared that you might actually have to throw up right then and there. Jihoon, Wonwoo, and Mingyu were sitting at the designated desk right in front of the judge, but you had excused yourself to go to the bathroom and hadn't brought yourself to go back in yet. The other party that was to blame for this all hadn't shown up yet, and you were more than thankful for that - the weird looks of the people passing you were enough for now.

For the sixth time already, you straightened every inch of your dress, even though you knew it wouldn't do much but you needed to keep your hands occupied while your legs were taking you around the hallway. With your head down, you didn't see the chest you were about to bump into when it was already too late. You jumped at the sudden contact, but the hands on your shoulders steadied you. The grip felt comforting and more familiar than you'd like to admit and looking up, you were greeted with the eyes you were expecting. Wonwoo's dark orbs had interlocked with yours, not breaking the gaze. The only thing in your way were the glasses he was wearing - you had never seen him in these ever before, but you were most definitely not complaining.

"Are you okay?" He wondered, his eyes filled with concern as he had watched you walk up and down the hallway for longer than he'd let anyone ever know.

You rubbed your hands together, feeling the lump in your throat already forming, "I-I don't know..."

"We're all a bit nervous, it's okay," he tried to assure you, unsure of how much he could help you in this situation, knowing that it was never him that was good whenever it came to feelings. He ran his hands gently up and down your upper arms, hoping it would comfort you in some way.

You shook your head, "But I don't think I'm just a bit nervous," your voice immediately became quieter and as soon as you dropped your head down again, Wonwoo pushed you softly to the side, making you lean against the wall.

"What are you nervous about? We're all here together. Nothing's gonna happen," he spoke to you, and as much as his words should have helped you, your worries took over.

"How is nothing going to happen? So much is about to happen in this little room," you pointed toward the door harshly, "I know Chanyeol. I know him so fucking well. And I know he won't let us go that easily." 

You didn't notice the arm he had swung around in the middle of your rant until he spoke again, "We have Jihoon with us. He's gonna help us in every way he can, don't worry."

"I know he'll help us. And I'm not questioning his abilities to do so," you gulped, "I just... I know what that man is capable of, and that worries me." 

Wonwoo let a few seconds of silence pass before directing your conversation in a different direction, "Jihoon knows who the other lawyer is, by the way. And it's kind of funny because-" but before he was able to finish his statement, another voice stopped him.

"Guys," Mingyu let his head peek out from the door, "They want to start." 

"Without the others?" The CEO wondered, to which his friend just shrugged his shoulders,

"I don't know, they said they'll be here any second." Before disappearing again.

"Alright, well then," Wonwoo pushed himself off the wall, stopping to stand in front of you, sending you a somewhat sad smile, "Are you ready?"

"No," you answered truthfully, "How could I be?" Your voice was as small as it had never been before.

Without even hesitating, he reached out to get a hold of your hand, waiting for you to push him away, but when he noticed you not reacting negatively, he brought you in closer.

"You can do this. We'll go through it together, alright?"

You let your body do its own thing, as you leaned into his arm slightly, resting the side of your head on his shoulder and nodding hesitantly. That's all he needed to take a few steps forward, waiting for you to do the same, before entering the room together. You raised your head again and walked in, holding your head up high, just like Jihoon told you to do.

After taking a seat right, with Jihoon to your right and Wonwoo to your left, the lawyer let you know about some last-minute details, reminding you of the most important info you'd need for the day. In the middle of your conversation, you were 'finally' graced with the presence of the other party.

Chanyeol had entered the room, just like he usually would - his chin so high that his nose almost touched the ceiling, a proud smirk on his lips. The smirk that once made you swoon, now made you want to throw up. The sudden feeling of a hand on your legs made you turn your head to the left. Wonwoo had placed his to stop your limp from shaking, and you thanked him with a tight smile on your lips. But his eyes were glaring at the man that had just walked in.

"Good morning, ladies and gents," Chanyeol greeted you as soon as he was on the same level as the four of you, nodding to each one of you with a shit-eating grin decorating his face as if he didn't put you in this misery. He was followed by non-other than his trusty little friend, and lapdog Sehun - a man you had also gotten to know quite well over the years. You used to like him. He was a good friend of yours. That's right, he was.

"Hi Y/N," he smiled at you, sending you a small wave before also greeting the CEOs next to you, slightly more politely. You could tell he was much more nervous than Chanyeol was. He had always been that type of guy. Slightly more careful and... caring. Like he actually had a heart. Unlike his asshole of a best friend.

You weren't scared of him. If anything, he was probably more scared of you at that moment, and especially of the men by your side. Who did scare you though, was the third man that trailed behind them. A man you knew too well. So well, you'd call him family, because... he was.

"Jeonghan?" You exclaimed out loud as soon as he was next to Jihoon.

"Oh, Y/N. Hi!" He smiled, "To say that it's a surprise to see you here would be a lie, I'm sure you're aware of that," the salty chuckle made you want to punch him, "But it's still nice to see you again. And greetings to the gentlemen as well." You blocked out the other words that came from his mouth as you positioned yourself to look straight ahead to where the judge would later sit, in trance from what had just happened.

Jeong... Jeonghan... was their lawyer. That's how you knew just how screwed you were.

A gentle shake on your shoulders brought you back, "Y/N?" Wonwoo called out for you quietly.

"Hm?"

"You know him?" His eyes landed on the lawyer of the other team that had taken his seat, still smiling just like his client.

You nodded, "Sadly..."

"How?" That time, it was Jihoon questioning you.

You let your gaze fall to the man in question, keeping it on him for a second before shutting your eyes in disbelief, and taking a deep breath in. You opened them again, but then found the table to be much more interesting, brushed a hand through your hair, and finally gave them the answer they were waiting for with a deep sigh as you had to admit with a heavy heart,

"He's my cousin."

Taglist: @nctxtrash @leicy0756 @hoe4wonwoo @jeonwonhi @nothingbutadeadesceane @smileywoo @angelarin @onewoowonderboy @goodforgyu @kavvs @sugarmilkchan @sweetheart-gs @wonforgyu @lilactangerine @meltinghershey @wonw00t @soonchanshua @jayswifeuwu @allorysayshi @shaurenlaw @drama-1998-girl @yoonren07 @malakasae @sseuyeon @venusprada @jeminiepabo @billboard-singer @safsaf1980 @monmarguerite

#Wonwoo x reader #wonwoo series #seventeen #series #kpop #scenarios #imagines #wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #svt #smut #fluff

[literary-illuminati]

Book Review 44 – The Spare Man by Mary Robinette Kowal

Alright, first full novel I’ve read entirely due to it getting a Hugo nomination. In retrospect that fact that there was absolutely no wait list for it at the library was perhaps a sign I should have paid attention to. I’m not sure it’s a bad book, exactly, but my god is it just chock full of little things that grated on me (which more or less tracks with my very vague memories of casually perusing The Calculating Stars when it first came out, so probably just a sign Kowal’s not for me, really.)

The story’s set in a fairly grounded space age future, on an ultra-lux cruise liner taking its passengers from Earth to Mars in speed and style. Tesla Crane, heiress, celebrity, and generally incredibly famous and unfathomably wealthy, has booked one of the nicest suites in the earth-gravity section of the ship under a false name to enjoy some anonymity on her much anticipated honeymoon cruise. Things of course take a drastic turn as a woman is murdered outside their sweet, and her spouse is framed for the crime. The shipboard security is obstructive and suspicious, bodies keep piling up, and it’s largely up to Tesla to solve the murder and clear his good name.

So first off – this is largely a style thing that grates on me far more than it should, and it probably effects my overall reading experience to an entirely unjustified degree, but – the standard etiquette in the story’s future is for everyone to use the gender neutral Mx. Using gendered terms like wife, husband, sir, m’am, or similar is also called out as being somewhere between archaic and offensively retrograde. Also, it is totally standard courtesy to list someone’s pronouns in any case where you’d their full name. In which case what is the point of taking so much care to be gender neutral of everything else. (In a sense this actually inspired worldbuilding, insofar as it’s exactly the sort of stupid language games high aristocracy or its equivalent tends to love, but the reading experience kind of grated).

The society’s generally very consciously progressive in a way that kind of calls attention to itself. It really wasn’t a surprise to see in the acknowledgement’s section that all the mentions of courtesy masks being a thing were edited in as covid happened. This is all mostly just background noise though, as far as narrative focus the only things that really occupy the story’s attention are its portrayal of disability and its bizarre class politics.

So, a key point of her backstory is that some years before the story, a lab disaster (during a demonstration of a personal assistance mech, which is actually some incredibly bitter dramatic irony I’m surprised the story doesn’t call any attention to?) killed six people and left Tesla with permanent spinal damage, chronic pain, and PTSD. Medical science doesn’t seem to have made many innovations on a cane or breathing exercises as far as mobility aids and PTSD treatment goes, but it does provide the absolutely incredible wish fulfillment device of a switch in your brain that lets you turn your pain sensitivity up or down at will. Tesla’s disability is a recurring thing throughout the book and generally the portrayal seemed fine to me? A couple conversations that bled into ‘giving the reader an important message’ territory, but only slightly and hardly the worst in the book.

The book’s attitude to class and wealth though, woof. Like, okay, the story is clearly a bit of a pastiche, a sanguine attitude to vast inequality and social hierarchy are necessary for the whole fantasy to work, but my god in that case please stop calling attention to it. The book so badly wants to simultaneously be progressive and have Tesla’s life be as maximally glamorous and exalted as possible that it gets twisted into this incredibly awkward spirals showing that she’s a good hyper-elite oligarch which really only call attention to the issue without doing anything to resolve it. Her internal monologue including some variation of the line ‘normally I hate just using money as a bludgeon to get what I want, but” happens a few too many times for it to not make un less likeable than an aristocrat who owns it.

Like, this is potentially uncharitable, but the book seems to take it as read that I find the idea of demanding to speak to a manager and having them grovel and apologize for how I’ve been disrespect far more alluring than I do? Not being that customer is a subject Tesla ruminates on at some length, and at the same time calling up her high priced lawyer and threatening to bury the whole cruise line in lawsuits while they rush to provide apology gifts is definitely portrayed as this thrilling power fantasy. It all left me actively rooting against her, at least a bit.

The actual mystery itself honestly wasn’t much to write home about – a bit confused, red herring introduced blatantly and too late, the obviously suspicious and personally unlikable character was the villain – but in a similar vein it did seem…telling, that the guy who’d been positioned as the unlikable asshole oligarch in opposition to Crane was secretly a murderous gold-digging imposter all along! Also, the fact that this was proven by a photo showing the oligarch to have been a dog guy, and the imposter being quite literally the only character in the entire book who didn’t adore Tesla’s emotional support dog. Like, c’mon.

Speaking of the dog – the book had a few recurring beats which I’m sure I’m supposed to have found funny or endearing but just overstayed their welcome with me several times over. The entire cast’s brains leaking out whenever they saw Tesla’s westie like it was some sort of platonic ideal of canine cuteness was one of them, along with like, Tesla and her spouse making out at a moment’s notice because a plot point meant that their encrypted tele-chat required skin-to-skin contact, and the book doubling as a cocktail guide. All things that if I’d liked the book I could have easily overlooked, but as is were just extra straws on the proverbial camel’s back.

Anyway, yeah, didn’t work for me.

#book review #sff #hugo nom #the spare man #mary robinette kowal

[nonuggetshere]

PK letting some of his animalistic behaviours out whenever one of his children is endangered 👀

Doesn't even use his magic or weapons just goes straight to mauling in his rage

Truly animalistic appearance and noises, being on all fours (...sixes?) and with his mandibles out, snarling and letting out a growl that shakes the very ground they stand on

And then just as quickly he returns back to his upright stance and stoic demeanor, flicking his long tongue out to lick the blood around his eyes off and calmly asks somebody to clean the corpses up

I don't think FaaF PK might be the kind of man who would execute Xero when he was very clearly infected unless he thought he was a lost cause, ik that's what happened in canon but it's an AU so I think I'm allowed to change that. I've already made PV have a secret queer romance and have the fact they're not hollow be outed before the sealing, I think PK not wanting to execute a terminally I'll guy of not sound mind for treason isn't out of the question.

Unless one of his children got caught up in the crossfire, then his instincts would kick in before his rational brain would. And it'd be a much more violent and cooler way for him to go out. And although he's not proud of what he did, PK decides the damage has been done already, might as well show it off as an example of what happens to traitors. Robs a dead man of his dignity even post death because it's the more convenient option.

NOT canon compliant I don't think. Don't take this as my take of what happened in canon and how canon PK would react, I just think it's cool ✨️ I might absolutely turn back on this idea though I just like it atm

#thylacines can talk #faaf au #honestly. if he hadnt torn Xero apart me might actually have a dilemma on if to make an example out of him. On one hand he did attack the #crown and PK cant have people thinking they can just attempt a hit on him or his family or assiociates and get away with it. But on another #he was infected and so might not be able to stand trial or be pardoned because hes not of sound mind and PK doesnt want the potential PR #nightmare of going too hard on him or executing a severely ill man. Decisions decisions #However i do ADORE PK going absolutely feral and i like to give people around him that despite his pretty good mimicry he is still very much #NOT a human. even if he looks close to one. #So for now Xero getting torn apart by a viscious apex predator hellbent on protecting its youg it is #also. I adore crimson nails I think the ship name was? markoth x xero. I like it! Its a background relationship for FaaF. And uh. Markoth #is a representitive of moths along with Seer so. He will NOT be happy that his husband got torn apart by the king. ✨️political drama✨️👐

[dekaydk]

Magic: The Conflicting

I'm not complaining at this point; I'm just confused. I get the rivalry, but the details are leaving my little brain uncertain.

*Majel Barret computer voice*

"Previously, on The Sign The Series."

There's some kind of magic going on here. No idea why; maybe the amulet? As I was watching the hallway conversation, it seemed like these two were (at first) sort of talking like they're both equals, as though Phaya is also some kind of nagaruda (the previous neologism brought to you by the unfairly-unavailable-outside-of-Thailand merch t-shirt-which-I-desire-but-apparently-can-only-have-by-adding-a-plane-ticket-to-the-price).

Later, in his car, ol' Doc Cha takes off his shirt to reveal that there's clearly some damage from this touch. So this is quite intentional and is intended to make it clear that Phaya isn't just some basic human to be swept aside by a powerful and unscrupulous magical being.

However, we're left with the question of just how Phaya did this, or even whether he's aware he did it/can do it. The end of the hallway conversation made Phaya seem a lot more likely to be human. I would have snickered too if I were Chalothorn, human or immortal.

"And now, the next episode."

In the parking garage, they're touching again but no damage is seen. (For a second, I half expected a full-fledged green-magic-vs.-red-magic fight to erupt right there in Tharn's face.) Maybe the damage before was done intentionally by Phaya? But the fact that he couldn't see it happening at the time seemed deliberate. Okay, fine; I'm willing to accept this and move on as "will be revealed eventually."

What I don't get is the threat. If Phaya is a nagaruda too, or some other magical creature, then this threat makes sense. "We're both immortals and we play for serious stakes."

If, on the other hand, Phaya is just a lil' ol' human, and thinks Chalothorn is also human, this threat is beyond unhinged, it's insane and the mental health implications seem kinda obvious, and no wonder he decked him. ORRRR, this threat would make sense in a Thai cultural context and I'm just a dumb foreigner.

Hoping for a plot reveal that helps me out here. This is minor in the overall scheme of things and will probably be explained, and I definitely adore this show.

#the sign the series