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thetriumphantpanda · 1 year ago

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baby, it's cold outside | joel miller

Summary | Patrolling with Joel is always easy, he's your friend after all, but when a snow storm forces you to stop halfway, you're both faced with feelings that you'd both rather ignore, but with nothing but time, talking about them is your only option.

Word Count | 4.2k

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Warnings | Explicit 18+. A snow storm and a cabin with a nice, warm fireplace. Unspecified age gap. Explicit smut - unprotected PiV (don't do this, pls be smart), oral sex (F), size kink if you squint, dirty talk, two idiots who love each other, some negative feelings towards the holidays but nothing else I can think of!

Authors Note | A huge thank you to the wonderful @hellishjoel for setting the 12 days of Pedro up and asking me to take part - this was so much fun to put together and I hope you all love it as much as I do!

12 Days of Pedro Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Thank you to the wonderful @saradika for the divider!

Despite having lived in Wyoming for years now, the winters were still a surprise to you. Icy cold winds, frosted windows every morning, thick downfalls of snow almost daily and a struggle to get warm no matter how many layers you wore. Some would call it picturesque, and you suppose you could see it, everywhere you turned in Jackson at this time of year, even though it was against the backdrop of the end of the world, it looked like it could adorn the cover of any Christmas card or be the setting for any Christmas movie. It didn’t matter, because you hated it either way.

When the tree went up in the centre of town, and the lights got switched on, it only served to remind you how solitary you were. How you existed mainly entirely on your own. No family, barely any friends, always the talk of the gaggle of girls who would whisper to each other whenever you passed and start laughing to each other, or the boys who always wondered why instead of hanging around with people your own age, you opted to spend it alone, or with someone who was pushing sixty.

Because if there was a single person in this Godforsaken town that you could class as a friend, it was Joel Miller. Quiet, closed off, unapproachable until you chipped away at his hard exterior, just like you in so many ways, it was actually sickening really. You liked Joel, ever since Tommy had put you two together for patrols when Maria had given birth, it was like you’d found someone who finally understood your need to be alone.

Patrolling outside the walls gave you peace, let you leave your loneliness behind for a while, just you and the ground beneath your boots, the feeling that you were doing something wrong, were less of a person because of your lack of friends and relationships left behind at the gate. You’d proven yourself capable more than enough times for Tommy to realise you were an asset. You’d saved more than enough people with your good aim and quick trigger finger, been ruthless in getting rid of raiders who strayed too close to your safe haven, and he knew your need for solitude, which is why he trusted you on these longer routes, on the more complicated patrol rotations, the ones that would get you out of Jackson for a week.

You surmise that’s probably why he chose to pair you up with Joel. In the two years you’d patrolled together, you’d come to realise that he needed that solitude just as much as you did. A way to leave behind being a father at the gate and remind himself of exactly who he was before. Out here, walking side-by-side next to you, he wasn’t Ellie’s dad, he wasn’t the man who still woke up in cold sweats remembering the heavy weight of his dead daughter in his arms, or that man who had lost almost everyone he’d ever cared for along the way, he was just Joel. Joel, who was more comfortable cradling a rifle in his arms than he was his infant nephew. Joel, who preferred comfortable silence instead of filling the quiet with talk. Joel, who, even when you suspected he hated you at the start, would have protected you to the death no matter what.

You were similar, far more than you’d like to admit, and as the weeks and months had drawn on, and you’d moved into being more comfortable with each other, he really was one of those things you’d wanted for so long. A friend. Someone to rely on, someone to drink with at the end of a hard patrol route, someone who made sure you ate when it was the last thing on your mind, someone who fixed the hole in your roof and put new planks of wood on your porch when you almost fell through it one day, someone who confided in you about how hard he found being a parent again, someone who opened up to you when things started to sour with Ellie. A friend.

He was also someone, in the last six months, that you suspected wanted to be more than your friend. It had started small, with things any good friend would do. He would offer you his arm when you walked during the winter so you wouldn’t slip, started packing double lunch so he knew you’d eat when you’d go out together, but then it was the hand on the small of your back through town, or the way he’d sit close to you in the bar, knees knocking against yours just so he could put a hand on your knee to apologise for getting too close.

And it’s not like you didn’t see that in him either. For a man who was almost sixty, he was incredibly handsome, able to do unspeakable things on patrol that neither of you would talk about to anyone else, strong in a way you didn’t think you’d ever seen before. Sure, his hearing was shot in one ear, his middle soft with age, and his hair and beard peppered with grey hair, but Joel Miller was a sight.

But, what if you’d read his signals wrong? What if his kindness and that warm hand on your knee was just him being a Southern gentleman? You throw yourself at him and he doesn’t feel the same, what happens then? You lose one of the very few friends you’ve ever had, and that’s somehow worse than knowing you’ll never know what the feel of his skin is like under your touch or what it sounds like when he moans your name for you.

The patrol route is brutal this day, wind and snow making it hard to see anything in front of you. You and Joel had to shout loudly to each other in order to hear anything, so when you stumble across the cabin, halfway through the route, you both decide that it’s best to head inside, get warm and wait out the worst of the storm before carrying on. Safer that way, is what Joel said, but you think it’s got more to do with the cold on his joints than the safety. Even at your younger age, your bones were certainly aching.

The wind whips a flurry of snow into the abandoned cabin when Joel pushes the door open, ushering you inside quickly, shutting the door quickly behind the two of you before more snow can follow you in. He sets his rifle down near the door and his backpack on the worn, moth-eaten couch, kneeling in front of the fireplace.

This particular cabin is a regular stop on this patrol route, an agreement between the residents of Jackson who frequent it to keep it stocked with firewood during the cold season. You silently note to thank whoever had patrolled before you for stacking the fireplace so all Joel really needs to do is set fire to the scrunched paper dotted through the wood to get the warmth of the fire flooding the small front room.

“Reckon we’re here for the long run,” Joel grumbles, holding flat palms up to the flames to warm his hands, “Ain’t no way we’re walking anywhere in that.”

And he’s right, the light of the day is fading fast and even in daylight, the blizzard had been a nightmare to traverse. It’s not like you’re wanting to rush back though, you sometimes wish you could pack everything up and come out here for good, live in your solitude until the end of your days, but for now, just a few more nights away from the place that reminds you just how alone you are will do.

You settle down on the couch, trying to burrow further into the coat around your body, not bothering to take your gloves or your hat off until the flames of the fire are stronger.

“Come sit closer,” Joel murmurs, motioning with his hand for you to sit on the floor next to him, “Warm up a little.”

You slip down from the couch and scoot along the floor until you’re sat next to him. Joel reaches over and takes hold of your wrist, gently pulling off your glove, “They’re damp,” He states, reaching for your other hand to do the same, “Take your coat off too, you’ll get a chill otherwise.”

Working to unzip the front to pull it off, whilst Joel throws an extra few pieces of wood on the fire, you settle a little bit closer to the flames, feeling the warmth start to seep through your other layers. He stands, taking your coat and his, hanging them on either end of the fireplace to dry out a little, then he sits back down next to you, although a little closer than he had been before, so close that you can feel the heat of his body next to you.

You take a moment to steal a look up at him, his body larger than yours, towering a little next to you, but in the glow of the flames he’s fucking breathtaking. You get lost in tracing his jaw and the hook of his nose with your eyes that he’s turning his head to face you before you can turn away from him. He catches you with that small smile that is saved only for his family normally, Ellie, Tommy, sometimes Maria, and now, more often, you. So you smile back at him, let the warmth lick through your body, and before you realise it, he’s leaning his, broad shoulders bumping yours as his face gets closer, and God, it would be so easy to let him do it, move your face towards him, press your lips to his and burn it all to hell, but as he inches closer, that pit is opening in your stomach, bubbling anxiety and dread, so as he inches closer, you have to stop him.

You bring one of your fingers up to press against his lips gently, watching as he purses them against your touch a little, but then his eyes open when you speak, so softly, so quietly that he almost missed your plea, “Please don’t.”

It’s like you’ve burnt him with the way he not only drags his face from you, but his whole body, putting so much distance between the two of you that you almost cry. He clears his throat, running his hand over his face, “Right,” He mumbles, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” You insist, not meeting his eyes though, “You don’t need to be sorry.”

“Stupid of me,” He shakes his head, “Just thought-” He sucks in a breath and pushes it out on a sigh, “Thought maybe you’d feel the same, but it was stupid.”

“It wasn’t stupid, Joel,” You sigh, finally turning to him, “It’s okay.”

“Makes sense,” He shrugs, eyes boring holes into the flames in front of you, “I’m old, too old for you to want me.”

“It has nothing to do with you being too old for me Joel, I couldn’t give less of a fuck about that.”

You expect him to drop it, like he often does with these kinds of conversation, the ones that involve feelings, but he doesn’t.

“Then what is it?”

“Well, it has nothing to do with your grey hairs or your creaky fucking knees, that’s for sure.”

He’s looking at you with a look that says to get fucked, hurry up, tell him the real reason for all this.

“I could be shit in bed for all you know.”

“Well that’s easy to rectify, just need a little practice.”

It makes you snort, “Can we be fucking serious for a minute, Miller?”

“You’re the one who said it first.”

“What happens when it goes tits up?” You ask, “When you get bored of me, or realise I’m not what you thought I was, what happens then?” He opens his mouth to respond to you, but you beat him to it, “I lose my best friend, that’s what happens, the only person in this Godforsaken world that I have, and I don’t want that, I don’t want a world where I’m without you.”

“Who says it’s going to go tits up?” He counters, “Baby, I’m old, I ain’t gonna go running off, I just want somethin’ good, somethin’ happy, and I want that with you,” Just like you had done before, he starts talking again before you can add something, “Put your faith in somethin’, darlin’,” He’s moving back towards you now, shifting closer, “Put your faith in, me.”

It sounds so easy when he says it like that, because you had once before, without even realising. Let him in, let him get close, to know everything you’d been through, share everything he’d been through. You let him sit with you late at night in the summer, strumming his guitar on your porch, he lets you share his whiskey when you need it.

“I’m still gonna be your best friend,” He urges, that warm palm resting on your knee, “That ain’t gonna change, we’re just gonna add to it.”

And for some reason, it snaps, all of your good judgement and everything that was holding you back. His face is cradled in your palms before you know it, your body straddling his lap as your mouth slants over his, a surprised gasp swallowed by your mouth as his lips open against yours, his hands coming to rest on the globes of your ass through your jeans, pulling you closer, chest flush to chest as you soak this in.

Hands dropping to the collar of his shirt, you start to slowly unbutton it, mouth still against his, tongue tasting him as your fingers push button after button through their holes until you can push it from his shoulders, drag his arms from it, drag his undershirt from it’s place tucked into his jeans.

Joel gasps when your hands make contact with the skin under it, fingers still slightly icy from the cold, but that too is swallowed by your mouth, as is the moan that drags from your throat when he bucks his hips into yours.

He pulls away from your lips, forehead pressed to yours as you both breathe deeply, “Don’t seem shit in bed so far.” He chuckles.

“I was fucking with you Joel,” You smile, punctuating it with a roll of your hips into his, “I’m a delight in bed.”

“Prove it.”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“This is the floor Joel,” Which earns you a squeeze to your ass, “I’ve never fucked someone on the floor before.”

Before you know what’s happening, he’s flipped you over, your back pressed to the dusty wooden floor, his body looming over yours, fingers picking the button of your jeans apart, pulling the zipper down, fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans, pulling them down your legs, underwear along with them too, before they’re thrown behind him somewhere, forgotten as he parts your knees, legs spread, exposed to him, and you think you might die from the way he looks at you. You bury your head into your shoulder, trying to escape his gaze as he drags his thumb along your folds, growling when he feels how wet you are just from his mouth on yours.

You’re vaguely aware of the sounds of his feet hitting one of the armchairs behind him as he lowers his chest to the floor, hands pulling at your hips, your back dragging across the wooden floor as his mouth presses a single, feather-light kiss to your clit. The smallest of touches to your body has your back arching into him.

How long has it been? Not since you fucked someone, because in the grand scheme of things that hasn’t been too long. No, how long has it been since someone actually made you feel good? Years, you think. Too long. Too long since sex was anything more than just stress relief, pressed against the brick wall by the Tipsy Bison, letting someone fuck you so you could feel something, giving them the bragging rights of fucking the town outcast in return.

This is different. So different. Joel is slow with it, parting you in front of his face with his thumbs, tongue swirling through the slick you’re not even embarrassed about now, tasting you, drinking you in, before he drags his perfect mouth up, lapping gently at your clit with the tip of his tongue.

“Taste so fuckin’ good for me, baby.” He coos against your skin, his praise making you preen, hips chasing the feeling of his mouth on you, he chuckles at your desperation, “How long’s it been since someone made you feel good, huh?”

Your fingers tangle in the curls on his head, dragging him back down to your cunt to silence him, “Too long.” Is all you offer as he feasts on you.

Tongue swirling, lips suckling, fingers digging into the skin of your hips, dragging you slowly but surely to the edge, the fire in your blood no match for the fire against your skin. He’s fucking good at this, knows exactly how to listen to your moans, the way you pull at his hair when he does something you like, collecting the little gasps and hip movements until he’s working a pattern on your pussy that makes you feeling like you’re going to explode, combust, maybe even die a little.

“Don’t stop,” You urge, breathless, sheen of sweat settling across what skin of yours is exposed to the flames near to you, “Gonna - fuck Joel - gonna cum.”

That’s when he pushes two of his fingers into you. Hooking them up inside of your cunt, your legs dropping open further than you thought possible as he works you and works you. You’ve gone quiet, letting out only short breathes when holding them in makes your head light, fingers so tight in his hair that you think it’s probably hurting.

Then, you think you find God, right there on the dirty, dusty floor, when the coil snaps inside of you. Your back arches off the floor, thighs clenched around Joel’s head as his tongue continues the flicks against your clit, ignoring the high-pitches whines of too much, Joel listening instead to the movement of your legs, the way your entire body convulses until you truly are spent for him.

Joel pushes himself up onto his knees, dragging his undershirt over his head, pulling his belt through its loops as you’re sitting up, dragging the upper portion of your clothes off, naked on the floor for him, the flames from the fire keeping you warm, even if your nipples do pebble and peak against the cold.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel breathes out as your hand settles on your pussy, fingers dragging through the slick to lazily move over your clit, “I wish you could see yourself right now, baby,” He crones, pushing down his jeans, cock springing free, immediately clasped in his fist, movements slow as he watches you touch yourself, “Pretty as a fuckin’ picture.”

His body falls forward, coverings yours, but this isn’t what you want. Hand on his chest, you’re pushing him back, “Wanna ride you, Joel.” You whine.

Like a kid on Christmas, he’s on his back in seconds, jeans and underwear pooled around his ankles because if you’re not sinking down on him in the next few seconds, he’s going to scream. You settle your thighs on either side of his hips, his cock, heavy and throbbing against his stomach. He’s watching you, as you take the base of him in your hand, line him up with that aching core of yours, head notching into you, where you just keep him for a moment, let him stretch you as you ground yourself with palms on his chest, sinking down, inch by inch until he’s fully buried inside you, warmth wrapping around him, just like the warmth from the fire against his skin.

You start moving your hips, his cock so deep in you he swears if he put a palm on your lower belly, he’d feel himself through your skin with the way you’re grinding against him, head thrown back, mouth dropped open. He wishes he could take a photo of this. He doesn’t think he’s seen a nicer sight in his life.

“It’s a lot, ain’t it baby?” He coos, hands on your hips, guiding your movements, he knows he’s big, been told enough times through his life, but the way you’re slow, getting used to him inside him, has him on the verge of spilling inside you already.

“So big, Joel.” You whine, leaning back now, hands on his knees which have moved up, his feet planted on the floor now, and God alive, if he thought you were a sight before, you’re a fucking masterpiece now as you start bouncing on his cock.

He can’t help himself, he is only a man after all, his hands trailing up the curves of your side, taking hold of your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingers, listening to the way you sing for him. Somehow, he finds core strength from somewhere, pushes himself up, one hand behind him to prop him where he is, as his mouth sucks a nipple into his mouth, rolling that pebbled peak with his tongue, your arm wrapping around his shoulders to steady yourself against him, hips still working against his, finger tangling in the curls near his neck, keeping his mouth anchored right where it is.

Joel pulls off you, a wet smack from his lips as he looks up at you with those beautiful brown orbs, “Feel so fuckin’ good, baby,” He praises, “So tight around me, like you were made for me.”

“Wanna feel you,” You moan, head dropping against his shoulder, “Wanna feel you come for me.”

He’s wrapping his arms around your back, dragging you down with him as he rests himself back on the floor, your chest pressed to his as he finally takes control. Feet planted on the floor with your teeth digging into his shoulders, he fucks up into you, the cabin filled with nothing but breathy moans and a lewd smack of skin as he pounds himself into you. In an ideal world he’d focus on making you come again, feeling you clench around his cock as you fall apart would be incredible, but he thinks there will be time for that later.

He’s so fucking close, you can feel it, the way his fingers are gripping t every inch of skin they can reach, the way his hips are faltering and how your name is more of a feature on his lips. You let out a surprise squeal as he flips you both, your back now to the ground as his cock slips out of you, his fist replacing the wet heat of your cunt as the warmth of his cum splashes across your lower belly, a howl, not unlike an animal, falling from his mouth as he paints you, claims you as his own with those ropes of cum across your skin.

When all is said and done, and he’s taken in the sight of your skin splashed with his spend, the two of you lying in front of the fire, one blanket dragged from the bed on the floor to soften the harsh wood, another pooled around both your hips, this feels like home. Both you and Joel, led on your side, watching each other, and the flickering light of the fire bathes you both in orange, in warmth.

His hand traces your face, thumb dragging across your bottom lip as he leans in to kiss you. Hours later, with harsh wind and snow still swirling outside, he brushes a thumb across your nipple, your hand reaching down between you to find him hard again. He puts you on your back this time, creaky knees be damned, slides his cock into your aching cunt once more, fucks you slowly, the entirety of his weight pressed against you. That orange glow almost convincing you that this was before, when things were normal, romantic even, as his lips leaves tiny bruises across your skin.

When he’s marked you once more as his, cum splashed from your pussy to your tits, he lies back down, the broad expanse of his back to the dying embers of the fire, your back pressed to his front, his arm snaked under your neck, urging you to sleep, and as you drift off, Joel’s hot breath against the skin of your ear, his other arm draped loosely over your waist, you pray that the snow is just as bad in the morning, because if it were possible, you want to return even less now, want to remain huddled next to Joel, on the floor, for the rest of your life.

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zluckychap · 2 months ago

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i give my thoughts on sebastian and painter's roles in pressure's story because i am bored (see below)

sebastian is selfish.

he isn’t inherently selfish. his circumstances, however, forced him into a situation where he had to be. i would argue that his selfishness is the only reason he is still alive.

as of the lockdown, sebastian only has 2 goals in mind.

1) his own survival and 2) urbanshade’s downfall. anything he must do to accomplish those goals is a moot point.

in the midst of the lockdown, sebastian encountered something. or rather, someone. a fellow victim of urbanshade, who hated them just as much as sebastian did. someone willing and able to assist him in his goal of achieving freedom.

that was all he needed to hear.

sebastian is at least a bit fond of painter. he finds the little guy endearing.

but he mainly likes painter for his usefulness. he sees painter as an asset. therefore, he isn’t really inclined to treat him as a friend.

the deal they made stated that painter would buy sebastian time to organize an escape, in return for seb taking painter with him. in the end, painter’s fate relies entirely on sebastian’s willingness to honor that deal.

is there any chance that sebastian might actually do that? of course there is. that chance is just very, very, very low.

one thing that might compel sebastian to make good on his deal is his sense of honor as a businessman. he honors the sales deals he makes with the expendables, even if he hopes they all explode.

though i suppose if he had a habit of cheating them out, or killing them without reason, they’d stop coming to his shop, stripping him of a valuable source of data. sebastian is kind of forced to honor his deals in that scenario.

if sebastian chose to break off his deal with painter, he would not get the short end of the stick. painter would be the only one inconvenienced.

what about a sense of kinship? granted, while seb had it way worse, seb and painter are both victims of urbanshade. would seb feel compelled to save another poor soul from the same fate as him? ehhh…

in order for sebastian to care enough about honoring his end of the deal… he needs to put someone else’s needs before his own. does he care enough about painter to do that for him?

right now, as things currently stand within the story… my money’s on no.

it’s evident that sebastian doesn’t check in on painter much, if at all. he isn’t bothering to keep him updated on a plan that they are supposedly both in on.

despite that, painter holds onto hope that sebastian will come back for him. it’s not like he has any other options.

sebastian doesn’t check in on painter because, well, he is selfish. his circumstances have forced him into a mindset where he thinks his only chance at survival means exclusively looking out for number one.

in order to improve his own odds of survival, he did the bare minimum of what it would take to get painter on his side… and then left him out to dry.

heck, painter’s usefulness is the only reason the two are even acquainted. if, when they met, painter had been unable to assist sebastian at all, i guarantee seb would have just been like “welp sucks to be you, byebye” without a second thought.

so as things are now, painter is most likely doomed, as is the friendship he thinks he has with seb.

the only question remaining is: is there hope for them in the future? is there a feasible chance that they could both get the happy endings they deserve?

in order for that to happen, sebastian needs to learn to care again. to trust again. to do the work to keep and maintain painter’s friendship.

to try to accomplish his goals not just for himself, but for those he cares for.

could that possibly be in seb’s future?

i don’t know. but i don’t wish to rule anything out.

and i’m certainly not going to give up hope on these two just yet.

after all, anything is possible.

#pressure #pressure roblox #roblox pressure #sebastian solace #sebastian pressure #pressure painter #i love these two and i cannot wait to see what the future has in store for them

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gay-dorito-dust · 21 days ago

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SAW YOUR POST ABOUT VERGIL AND DANTE ASKING WHO IS THE FAVORITE BETWEEN THE TWO TO READER, IMAGINE THEM TRYING TO GIVE READER ANYTHING OR DO ANYTHING FOR READER TO PROVE THAT THEY ARE THE FAVOURITE

You knew something was up this morning when both Vergil and Dante were all too keen in doing things for you, taking stuff from your hands or just being rather civil with one another for longer then a couple of seconds.

It was weird and you didn't necessarily know how to comprehend such acts of uncharacteristics of both twins. You had to pinch yourself really hard when you saw Vergil allow Dante to sling an arm over his shoulder, ruffling his usually slicked back hair into a dishevled mess, several strands of his white hair brushing his forhead.

You always wondered what Vergil looked like with his hair down, and this was most likely the closest you'll ever get to seeing the twins looking remotely like actual twins, near enough indistinguishable in physical looks but anything but alike in pretty much everything else.

'what's going on.' you ask.

Dante and Vergil look at one another for a few seconds before looking back at you and your skeptical gaze that passes between the two of them, hoping that one of them will give something away for you to better understand what you had just walked into, as you didn't like being not in the know especially when it comes to these two suddenly seeming cordial.

'nothing,' Dante began as he moved away from his brother and over towards you, 'just wanted to treat our favorite to a calm and easy morning.' he finshes by pulling you into his side, kissing your forhead and side eyeing Vergil who was silently cursing -and stabbing- his brother for being more affectionately open then he was, beofre pulling away to show you his award winning smile.

'what Dante is trying to say is that you have done so much by us, put up with us that we have realised that we haven't done much by you, so we wanted to correct our foolishness.' Vergil excplains calmly as he could see that you weren't buying what Dante was putting down, after all he knew that you knew that if Dante wanted smething he tended to be more physically affectionate, and thus Vergil was hoping to bank on this being his downfall asn for you to admit that he was the favourite twin of yours.

Dante glared at him from behind your back, making the older twin smirk to himself as he felt as the shift lean towards his way, but kept his face perfectly neutral for he had a plan that he wanted exacuted PERFECTLY. Vergil knows he can win over Dante if he plays his cards right, keep them close to his chest until he deemed it acceptable to show them, as he found his brother foolish with his tactic and was more then willing to bide his time if necessary to win this petty arguement they had prior.

and that argument's subject was; which twin did you like better? him or Dante. It was a stupid argument but as all siblings do, he and Dante decided to test this out by dedicating an entire day to you, all in hopes that by the end of it the favourite twin will be revealed.

Dante belived you favoured him more, mainly due to the fact that he was the first twin you met and conected more with. Vergil found this logic stupid but pitched that he was your favourite twin as he didn't need to be loud and cracking jokes to be liked, needless to say a fight broke out, but they healed just quick enough before you awoke to start their plans.

'okay,' you trail off, 'who's going first?'

headcannons for How the twins attempt to win you over;

dante

dante would probably bribe for your favour with strawberry sundaes and pizzas.

he's more social then his brother, so he knows people who could help him in winning over your favour

even if him and Vergil promised to not use outside connections to the other's advantage. (this rule was specifically made for Dante)

he will find things that he knew you might like and bring it back to you with the biggest smile upon his face.

he's got a good memory and does remember what you liked and disliked so there wasn't much headache in how you'd react.

so needless to say he was confident with his choices and knowing you'd love them so much you'd put them on your shelf within your room. he could see it clearly as day.

that ans he thought your room could use more trinkets and personality to it and he was just lending a helping hand in doing so.

spends alot of quality time with you, cutting off your time with Vergil as much as he possibly could, yet doing so in the best possibly way by taking on duo missions and taking you as his partner as he protects your back and vice versa. he will look out for you and make sure you weren't taking on more then you could, making sure that your wellbeing wasn't suffering as he tosses his coat over you if he knew you were cold.

Vergil

vergil finds that he excells at doing things for you.

he takes on tasks that you didn't favour doing so much, or cassually zip up your coat, tie your shoes when he notices they are untied, forcing you to stop as he double knots them for your safety.

it all came naturally to him that it was easier for him to get ahead of his brother of sorts and Vergil didn't have to feel as though he was putting up an act.

he would even make you a snack should you voice your hunger, it was decent, nothing to write home about but it was a new discovery for you in knowing that at least one twin knew how to cook for themselves.

he reminds you to eat and take care of yourself, forcing you to take breaks even if it meant draging you away for whatever held your attention by the back of your shirt.

he will even offer up his makeshift study as a safe haven to you, which was rare even for him, but he didn't mind you within his space as much as he did others

mainly because he knew he could trust you to put books back where they came back, trust you to not breech the silence between the two of you and knew how to keep your distance for him aswell.

but this time he would hand pick a book for you, believeing it to be a suitable read fro you and even making small convesation on how you were liking it so far, again something he rarely does and it shows by how awkward he comes across sometimes but you appreciated his atempts in doing so as it made the usually frigid room just that little bit warmer and welcome.

naturally you catch on to what is going on sooner or later, you weren't stupid. so it didn't come to a surpise when the pair asked by the end of the day; 'who's your favourite twin?'

you respond with 'you both tricked me, so neither, but nero is my favouite sparda as of starting today.' before leaving them both alone to sulk in their shared defeat.

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samcvrpenters · 9 months ago

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word count: 1.7k+

pairing: joe goldberg x fem! reader x love quinn

summary: ever since the married couple set eyes on you, they both knew that they wanted you for themselves. but, sharing is caring, right?

warnings: obsession, mentions of sexual content, murder, gore, drugging

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

they first set eyes on you when you walked into sherry’s and cary’s. they had set a party up— mainly for themselves but also for love and joe, and it was more of a congratulations for the birth of henry. they were a little more self-absorbed than others, but joe and love pulled it together in order to stay. after all, this was for henry.

maybe it was something a little unexpected, the fact that there would be so many people there. but it gave them a chance to analyse. more for joe, anyway. he always believed love never truly took in the picture in front of her, which would eventually be the couple’s downfall.

love had actually seen you first. you were in the bathroom, touching up your makeup for the party. you had this beautiful dress on, and love almost couldn’t take her eyes off you. you were simply that stunning— and she almost felt guilty when having those feelings. but then she remembered the whole situation with natalie and she couldn’t find herself caring anymore about what joe thought.

you two got into a rather explicit conversation. you were mainly laughing about the relationship between sherry and cary and how sherry often did her own thing. but it didn’t really matter to you. the only thing that mattered was that you were having a good time. and so was love.

shortly after the conversation, you excused yourself to go and meet your husband. what the hell were you doing married? you had no reason to be married. she had already declared to herself that you belonged to her.

as your hand slid around his hip and grasped gently at his blazer with your left hand, joe had finally took sight of you. honestly, you must have been the most beautiful thing he had ever seen before. and he was already flaming with jealousy by the time he watched your lips lock with the person that you were married to.

he had no reason to be jealous. he shouldn’t even be thinking about you like that in the first place. he was happily married (well, that was up for discussion), and he knew that love would act up if he even locked eyes with you for more than a second. but once she had walked out of the bathroom with her eyes still fixed on your body, joe came to a realisation.

she was just like him.

which meant that whatever joe did, love was most likely to do too. they were both fixated on you already, their infatuation running like a train— directly to the destination which could only be you.

he took her to the side to talk to her. at first, he sounded confrontational and almost annoyed. but with each word that came out of his mouth, he sounded more and more peaceful as his eyes kept flickering towards you. towards the way you ran your hand delicately across your husband’s chest.

“she’s stunning, isn’t she?” love’s comment came almost as quickly as his argument came along, causing him to halt with the comments he was making. of course she had spotted his small glances at you. he was quite obvious. and she had experienced it firsthand before.

joe wasn’t sure what to say. his hand was placed firmly on love’s side, veins so evident as he gently rubbed at it. of course he had to act like he actually cared about her— even though it was quite the opposite. he hated her for what she was, even if that was an exact replica of himself. but he had to at least act like it.

“get her away from her husband.” joe’s voice is raspy in the ear of his wife, his back turned towards you so that he would be able to whisper freely into her ear without anyone overhearing.

love immediately took to the role as the distraction. she approached you, greeting you with a smile on her face. she was always the extroverted one out of the pair of them, so she had no problem just approaching you like this. she gently took your hand and led you away from him, pulling you to where the drinks were.

she raises the glass to your lips and allows you to drink out of it, letting you sip gently at the liquid inside of it before pulling it away. “nice?” she questions with a hum, her hand still placed on your arm. the physical touch was so much to her.

“so nice.” your voice is so perfect. so beautiful. you sound like an angel. cliche, she knows. but you’re exactly like that. an angel. you’ve been sent down from the heavens to satisfy her needs and to give her an actual opportunity with her husband to do something they both agree on.

she can already imagine those nights with you.

your back would be pushed against the wall, her hands roaming up and down her body and her fingernails scratching gently at your skin. maybe she could make you bleed if she was lucky. her tongue would run down the flesh and gently lick up what she had caused, her tongue aching for more of that metallic taste since it was you.

she would hoist you up onto the counter of her kitchen, pushing that lovely little dress you were wearing up to your hips and above your waist and allowing her lips to touch your inner thighs— those love bites making such a scene for her and joe whenever they would want more of you. they would treat you so well. so much better than that pathetic excuse of a husband.

talking about that husband, joe was certainly doing his job well. his charm was coming through unbelievably fast and was almost so convincing. he wanted him to leave the party so that he could deal with him properly.

he had never acted so fast with murder in his life. but he would be willing to do it for you. he would be willing to stab. to slash. to shoot.

he wanted, so badly, to pull the man to the side and instantly carve out his heart. maybe he would use the knife that he knew was right in the middle of that knife block in sherry and cary’s kitchen. maybe he would dig the blade into the flesh of his chest and push and push until he managed to gently prick the organ that could only feel.

he’d maybe take the liberty of carving out his skin first. he could already imagine it. the blood would be horrific. all over the place, and he would messily detach the heart from any of the veins and arteries and instantly burn it.

he would give anything for that.

but of course, the world didn’t work that way, as your husband just shrugged his comments off and told him that you would have to be off soon.

he didn’t want that to happen. no, he wanted him to be done with. he wanted to shatter that man’s stupid hopes and dreams by ending them and then just fuck you a minute later. maybe that was too much to ask for, but he wanted it.

he could only stand there as your husband dismissed him, before he ended up walking back over to you and love. he introduced himself and then told you that the man over there was looking for you. you nod and smile, and allow yourself to walk back over to him, but not before commenting that it was nice to meet them both.

joe and love would have to plan.

planning was never a big deal to joe, but to love? it would be different. she never really planned anything out. she wasn’t really that careful with anything but she was willing to listen to her husband to get you. they agreed to share you. after all, it was bringing them closer together.

she heard that you and… what even was his name? was it alex? she was sure that his name was alex. she heard that you and alex were going on vacation soon.

so, joe was the one who went over there and mercilessly slashed the tires of the man’s car. he wouldn’t let you leave— there was no way. so much more could happen during that time you were away and he couldn’t let you slip away.

alex told you that he would go out and walk to get a courtesy car— after all, the town was quite small and you wouldn’t necessarily mind if that was the case. you hummed and kissed him on the cheek, waving sweetly at him as he left the house.

you heard a knock on the door almost a few minutes later, revealing love with a box of cupcakes and whatnot. you let her in with a small smile on your face, and she lets you lead her to the table to munch on those sweet desserts. food was definitely bringing the two of you closer together.

joe never had an issue with following people. so following the man that was so stuck to you? not a big deal in the slightest.

he lets himself walk faster as he passes one of the cameras in the town, before pulling alex into the next alley where he was sure there were absolutely no cameras in the slightest and letting himself stab the man in the chest. just like he imagined.

he knew he would have to deal with the body, so he pulls out a small can of gasoline and sprinkles it over the man, before pulling out the lighter and gently setting fire to the body. he makes sure to pull the knife away and keep it stashed in his pocket— all stained with blood. he couldn’t leave any evidence behind. it would just be a random mugging that would end with arson.

and meanwhile?

that small poison that love had planted into the cake was beginning to make its way through into your body.

what did you expect?

they were so obsessed with you.

#you #you x reader #you seriee #you netflix #penn badgley #victoria pedretti #love quinn #joe goldberg #love quinn x reader #joe goldberg x reader #joe goldberg x reader x love quinn

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little-fae-hero · 2 months ago

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Linked Universe, Hero of the Four Swords

My headcanons/au ideas

Art by Atro Avis

Colored Version

Long talk/ideas under the cut. Warning for general violence, soul ripping and death. (Note: I may add stuff overtime but I will never delete from the list).

Twilight. Sky. Legend. Hyrule. Wind. Time. War. Wild.

Four (Minish Cap/Four swords). Other Nicknames: The Smithy, Blacksmith, Short stack, Minish, The Child (hates this), Smith.

Hero Titles: Hero of Hyrule, Hero of the Minish, Hero of the Four Swords, Friend of Shadows, Savor of the Minish Vaati.

God who has claim over his soul: Demise (his hold of the four swords and not breaking his mind shows his power)(Deal with Shadow).

Part of First’s soul: Wisdom/ability to adapt.

History:

Link is just a small boy, his father is a knight, and his grandfather is a blacksmith, the boy is training to be a blacksmith but has learned how to fight by his father. With the festival he and his grandfather are making a special sword for the winner. Meanwhile a little minish named Vaati is corrupted by a dark malice and becomes the villain, turning Ezro into a talking hat and turning Zelda to stone. Link takes his sword and uses Ezro magic to shrink down into the size of a minish to help get into old temples. Link is able to go through the temples and figure out how to stop Vaati and save Zelda. However, he doesn’t kill Vaati, instead it pushes the darkness out of him and locks the darkness away. Minish Vaati is extremely regretful for what happens, crying and everything, it takes Link begging Ezro to not blame the minish.

However the lock on the corrupted doesn’t stay locked for very long. With the help of a dark spirit known as Ganon, Vaati broke out, kidnapping princess Zelda. Link in desperation, pulled the fabled four sword, however the sword broke him into five different pieces, Green, Blue, Red, Vio and the undesirable dark parts, Shadow.

The four are sent on an adventure to rescue their friend Zelda, meanwhile Shadow is taken in by Vaati, slowly being coached into being a monster, one who helps turn Hyrule against the heroes. Vio, playing with his knowledge, joins Shadow's side, mainly to get Shadow to realize what’s going on. However, when Vio realized he didn’t have an option he tried to kill Shadow. Shadow eventually turned against Vaati and Ganon, holding them off for a bit but it eventually ‘killed’ him. They defeated these dark monsters and put the four swords back, but Link was never the same after that. Link made a replica of the four swords, to try and figure out what is wrong with him.

Death: Four knows he will die if he doesn’t fix his soul and ends up hunting for an answer, ending up in an old palace with Shadow. Four’s fractured soul is killing him, Shadow is scared and when a dark voice offers support for one so powerful he survived pulling the four swords, Shadow agrees. With dark magic, Four and Shadow lived but are bound to a dark palace, staying there their soul safe for the one causing it to burn.

Adult timeline: The palace is destroyed in the great flood; the magic being washed away and the soul moves on.

Child timeline: Time takes notice of the Palace but only checks out the front room, however Kishin notices the soul and quickly takes his persona of Oni and reaped them, allowing them to move on.

Downfall timeline: Because of Ganon’s magic takeover of the Palace, feeding deeper the dark magic that protects Four and Shadow. Eventually Legend finds his way to the Palace of the Four Swords. Shadow makes monsters attack Legend and Four is the boss of the dungeon, Legend does win and frees their souls.

Interesting stuff/Headcanons:

Four was gifted a little minish feather after his adventure, he wears it as an earring.

Becoming minish size through magic allowed him to easily understand and speak their language.

Link was only about 10 years old when he went on this adventure, however the minish magic cursed him, mainly his height. After 6 years he looks like he hasn't grown a day.

Link forgave the small minish Vaati, he was a bullied minish and was confused by the whispers of dark magic.

However, because of his time as a dark wizard, Vaati was left alone, so he stays with Four.

Because of this, it doesn’t matter how much of his childhood and innocence is taken away, Four can always see the minish.

When he grabbed the Four sword it actually split him into five parts.

Green was the leadership, thinking cool in battle, the core of Link.

Blue is the courage, bravery, his temper and empathy for friends.

Red is his kindness, compassion, his empathy for strangers.

Vio is his wisdom, logic and just his ability for power.

Shadow is all the negative parts, bitterness, his jealousy and envy, the hatred for having to do these quests. It’s why the magic of the four swords wanted to get rid of him.

When Shadow destroys the dark mirror, it not only ‘destroys’ his form and weakens monster Vaati but makes all the colors scream out in pain.

Four once he puts the sword back is never quite fully right, only realizing the damage after he talks to Minish Vaati.

He’s horrified and tries to look for a way to find or bring back Shadow. Red is hopeful, Vio feels like it’s just wishful thinking.

Shadow is still alive, but now hiding out in four’s shadow, nowhere near enough energy to make a physical form, especially with Four using magic that mirrors the four swords. But using the sword help’s Four have some sense of control.

Missing Shadow, Four cannot feel those missing emotions (like jealousy or bitterness), once where he could feel those, now it’s just empty. Often causing sadness or anger to take its place.

Four is still a blacksmith, after all the bs that he went through, he’s given up any thoughts about being a knight.

Four sometimes stares into mirrors as that is what allowed Shadow to enter the light world, so he hopes that maybe one will allow Shadow to come back.

Because he didn’t spend either of his adventures alone, Four doesn’t like to be alone, generally he will always be around someone.

He’s also a naturally cuddler because of this, so be careful if you fall asleep by him, you may become his teddy bear.

Four seemingly has this weird ability to find small things, like keys or money.

He’s excellent at solving problems between the group, always getting them to talk to each other and hug them out.

Sky once looked at him and started crying, saying he’s sorry about his soul. It very much confused Four, but he knows something up with skyloftan.

Because he can be small, Four also finds out a lot of secrets, he learned about Twi’s secret early on and they decided to keep it between themselves.

Four did tell Time about his ability to split, mainly because some days are bad, and he needs to split and needs someone to cover for him.

Four will typically slip into using We/they pronouns for himself unknowingly. Eventually Time and Twi will say something, and he’ll correct himself.

Four main goal is to find Shadow once again.

---

And my my, who is this very similar looking fellow

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe au #fae lu au #fae lu headcanons #lu headcanons #linked universe headcanon #lu four #linked universe four #lu shadow #hero of the four sword #legend of zelda minish cap #legend of zelda four swords

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starsandsuch · 4 months ago

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Some notes on Chitra 💎🍡🐅

The 14th Nakshatra. It’s ruled by Mars and is the bridge between sidereal Virgo and Libra. Being contained between 23.20 degrees Virgo and 6.40 degrees Libra.

Deity: Tvastar the celestial architect

Their symbol is a Jewel/Pearl. Some sources would say it’s symbolized as a diamond as well. Their yoni is a female tiger.

This can apply to Sun, moon, Ascendant, lagnesh or Atmakaraka in Chitra. Honorable mention ketu in Chitra.

Here are some observations I’ve made about them:

↠ They look good on camera.

↠ Usually have thick defined eyebrows.

↠ They’re one to obsess over their appearance in a very thorough way.

↠ They have round eyes that look glossy like marbles. Their face is heart shaped.

↠ At a certain point they learn people like looking at them; as many find them physically attractive. They’re not one hide away from that gaze of others, but embrace the attention that comes with being attractive.

↠ They love attention and being the center of things.

↠ They hate having body hair. Many opt to getting laser: permanent hair removal. Ironically enough a lot of them tend to be genetically very hairy.

↠ Even Chitra men hate having body hair. My Chitra guy friend used to shave his legs and I thought it way so weird for a (straight) guy to do that??.😭

↠ Chitra women are thicc. They usually have full hips and big butt.

↠ Fun fact: when I used to do astrology readings , I offered a reading where I’d describe your physical appearance based on your birth chart , and literally every single person who bought that reading had Chitra Sun, moon or ascendant. Mainly ascendant though.

↠ They are good at orchestrating drama. They highkey love drama.

↠ They live for controversy/ creating controversy

↠ Being the conductor of the drama then being the one to try to fix it , is a classic Chitra trope to me.

↠ They actually have a masterful talent of orchestration of drama but never get caught or blamed for it.

↠ They know how to be manipulative of social narratives. They know how to act or say things in order to get a certain reaction from others.

↠ This why they make good lawyers, bc during prosecution you have to make the defendant person look guilty through power of suggestion & insinuation. And put that seed of doubt in the jury’s mind based on their line of questioning. Basically indirectly accusing them without saying it directly.

↠ They’re naturally passive aggressive. They can display the mask of cordiality but secretly plot of someone’s downfall.

↠ They can poke and prod people to get an emotional or angry emotion out of them.

↠ A lot of them are very critical and judgmental. They can be judgmental towards family members especially.

↠ One thing I’ve see with Chitra that no one ever talks about is how good they are at predicting social trends. They usually know about /do something a few years before it’s popular.

↠ I sense they’re good at trend forecasting since Libra naturally has Aquarius in their 5th house. 5th house= talents, Aquarius= the future. So they have a talent for predicting the future.

↠ Two examples of this:

↠ #1 Kim Kardashian (who has Chitra Sun) and her affinity for social media was ahead of its time. Her long-hair-bbl-aesthetic was arguably the first prototype in the copy paste look you see on Instagram.

↠ Also when I watched KUWTK , in a 2012 episode she had a selfie book, and would take selfies with a mini LED light attached to her DSLR camera. Now it’s the norm to have mini lighting equipment in your purse. But she had that even before iPhones were that mainstream.

↠ #2 Soulja Boy (who has Chitra moon) is a known pioneer with music artists/social media. He was one of the 1st to have an online image as a rapper / go viral /have a viral dance for a hit song etc. Basically that formula is the mainstream strategy for success in the music industry in present day. But he did all that in like 2008 before iPhones/IG/tiktok etc.

↠ They will thrive in any career where you have to curate the aesthetics of something. Being a stylist, decorator, image consultant are all very Chitra-like.

↠ These natives are good at making money. Any Chitra person I’ve known IRL is good at money management or they are wealthy. 💰

↠ They’re good at party planning or event planning.

↠ I’ve also seen this be a successful social media influencer Nakshatra. They will post on socials and in a relatively “short” time gain a lot of engagement/followers etc.

↠ They seem to be always on the pulse of social trends/ pop culture etc

↠ They love dressing up as different personas, they are good at impersonating people. They like to personify different cultures through their aesthetic.

↠ They attract very aggressive people as partners.

↠ Libra naturally has their 7th house in Aries so they attract people with Martian energy. Aggressive, straightforward, blunt, controlling.

↠ They have a spouse that is a different ethnicity than them. Likely to be in an interracial relationship.

↠ A lot of them are very intelligent and get high marks in school, some even be valedictorian, magna cumlaude, summa cumlaude etc.

↠ Many get involved in politics or law.

↠ They are social climbers

↠ They love to argue.

↠ The especially like bantering. They’ll be sports commentators, podcaster, fashion critic, pop culture critic, etc.

↠ They get over things quickly. They don’t dwell on the past and let that hold them back from future endeavors. They’re always trying to achieve something new.

#astrology #vedic astrology #chitra #sidereal libra #venusian #sidereal virgo #astro observations #astrology observations #starsandsuch #2024

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storiesforallfandoms · 9 months ago

Text

shared trauma ~ logan howlett; marvel

word count: 3466

request?: no

description: in which she sneaks away to help them return home, and ends up bonding with the brute with knives in his hands

pairing: logan howlett x female!reader

warnings: swearing, some deadpool & wolverine spoilers, trauma bonding, wade wilson being wade wilson, a good ending

masterlist (one, two, three)

Getting out of Cassandra's compound wasn't as hard as the Others thought. Not when you shut up and played by her rules. She trusted everyone who worked under her enough to let us come and go as we pleased, mainly because she knew we were scared enough of Alioth to come back and be under her control.

The Others also weren't as hidden as they thought. At least, not from me. Lucky for them, I was the only telepath in Cassandra's army, because Johnny's mind gave away everything about the Others without even knowing I could hear him.

When it got dark and mostly everyone had turned in, I snuck out of the compound. I could see the hiding place of the Others in my head, and I knew it would take me a long time to get there on foot, but I needed to get there. There was something about these variants - this Deadpool and this Wolverine - that was different. They may be the key to my freedom from Cassandra. Maybe to all of our freedoms.

I travelled for so long that my legs burned and I felt like I was going to pass out, but I got there. Immediately I was hit with the sounds of several brains, all thinking about a plan to take down Cassandra. All except one, but it was hard to make out what was going on in that head over the wounds of everyone else. I pushed into the place, a silence falling over the room as they heard me enter. I winced with every step I took down the stairs. When I appeared in the doorway, I was greeted by a barrage of weapons.

"Whoa!" I exclaimed, putting my hands up.

"You're one of hers," Blade stated.

"I came alone," I insisted. "I...technically snuck out."

"How did you find us?" Elektra asked.

"Let's just say Johnny Storm's mind was just as loud as his mouth. Look, I'm not here to hurt you guys. I'm here because I think those two - " I nodded to Deadpool and Wolverine " - may be who we need to take Cassandra down."

"And why would you want to take down Cassandra?" Blade questioned. "She's your leader."

"Not by choice. I followed her because I knew it meant survival. But I'm telling you, I see something with those two. I'm clairvoyant as well as a telepath, and when those variants were with Cassandra I could see a fight that ended with her downfall."

The group shared a look. Well, all besides the Wolverine, who was halfway through a bottle of whiskey. He seemed to be ignoring everything going on. I realized his mind was the one I couldn't hear. It was almost like he was trying to block out any thoughts. Not because of me, but because he didn't want to have to think those things.

"We could use a clairvoyant," Elektra pointed out.

"This reading you got form us," Deadpool said. "Did you see all of us winning?"

I shook my head. "It doesn't work like that. Some scenarios aren't definitive, and some are. I saw that we'd fight her, but after that there's a number of different ways it could go. All I saw for sure was that Cassandra was taken down and everyone in the Void was finally free from her reign."

"Sounds like a shit power," Wolverine muttered.

"She could tell us how to avoid the bad paths," Elektra said.

My legs were starting to ache in a way I couldn't handle for much longer. "Can you guys make a decision soon? I walked all the way here and my legs feel like they're about to snap off."

The group, minus Wolverine, shared another look before X-23 - Laura - nodded and said, "We'll give you a bed. Once you're rested, we'll come up with a plan."

~~~~~~

I laid awake that night while everyone else was asleep. We had come up with a plan to attack Cassandra's compound, one that should be mostly successful for everyone if the input from my visions helped at all. Everyone else had gone to bed with hope of a successful mission at sunrise, but I was wide awake with thoughts of going against Cassandra. Unlike everyone else, I had been part of Cassandra's team for a very long time. I had seen the things she did to people who opposed her. Despite the fact that my visions should give us a leg up in this fight, I was still scared of the consequences if we lost.

There was a stir in the air that told me someone was awake. I heard movement and the sound of a glass bottle being picked up. Logan didn't notice as I rolled over to face him. He was already walking up the steps and out of the hideout. It took me all of ten seconds to decide to follow him. This Wolverine may have been a grumpy Gus, but trying to speak with him would be way better than laying in the silent room struggling to sleep.

I followed him into the woods, where he had already started a small fire. He was sat next to it, hunched over with a bottle of Gambit's whiskey. I was shocked there was any whiskey left at this point, but who was I to judge someone else's coping mechanism.

His back straightened when he heard me approaching. "I don't want company."

"Good thing I'm not here to keep you company," I said, sitting next to him but keeping enough space between us. "I'm here to see if you'll share the liquor you're stealing."

To my surprise, he willingly gave me the bottle without hesitation. I took a big mouthful, which proved to be a bad idea when the harsh liquid burned my throat. I winced at the burn and gagged once I had it swallowed. Logan let out a low chuckle. "Not your usual drink of choice, huh?"

"Actually, I've never drank," I responded, passing the bottle back to him. "I was pruned before I was legal drinking age, and Cassandra doesn't have alcohol at her base."

"You nervous to fight your boss tomorrow?"

"She's not my boss. I'm not part of her team by choice. I already said that. You saw Alioth, you saw what he can do. I was young, I was scared, and she promised to keep me safe."

There was a pause. I wouldn't look at him. I knew coming here was a risk. I knew they wouldn't completely trust me. I just wished they would understand I only sided with Cassandra to stay safe and alive.

Logan broke the silence when he asked, "How young?"

"What?"

"You said you were young, below the legal drinking age. How young?"

"I was a teenager," I responded. "Mid-teens, I think."

"What does a teenager do to get themselves sent to this hell hole?"

I shifted in my seat. No one had ever asked me my backstory before, so I never had to reveal what I was most ashamed to admit. "Do you have Hydra in your universe?"

He nodded. I sighed and said, "My parents...they worked for Hydra. They...they let those Hydra scientists experiment on me. Trying to recreate something as powerful as the serum that created Captain America. Except, instead of making me super strong, it gave me the ability to read minds and see the future. Weirdly enough, the TVA doesn't like anyone that can change the future."

"They didn't get you to join them? Seems like your powers would've been perfect for a time variance agency."

I chuckled humorlessly. "That's not how the TVA works."

"You were a kid."

"That's not how the TVA works."

When he didn't respond, I found myself becoming aware of the silence. Like, of the actual silence. I couldn't hear a single thing Logan was thinking. No one could truly block me out. At least, no one I had met. Not even Cassandra could keep me out completely. I looked over at Logan, trying to focus on him, but still I couldn't hear anything.

"I don't like people poking around in my brain, bub."

I smiled a little. "I can't help it usually, but your brain is weirdly silent. No thoughts, Wolvie?"

"They're none of your business."

I left it at that. Despite my abilities, I wasn't one to pry into other people's thoughts. I heard things by accident, but I wasn't searching through people's heads for their trauma. Actually, it was nice to not have Logan's voice in my head. It was true silence that I had not had in years.

"Are you really not coming with us?" I asked him.

"I'm not a hero," he responded.

"You sure about that?" I eyed his yellow suit. "It's not about being a hero, though. It's about going home."

"There is no home for me to go back to."

His mental walls cracked for just a moment then. I could hear something coming from his mind; the faint calling of his name. No, not calling. Screaming. It was multiple voices, but it was just a faint whisper to me. At the same time, an image came through in his mind. It was a woman with red hair and brown eyes. We didn't have any variants of her come through the Void before, but I had recognized her from the minds of other X-Men who I had crossed paths with: Jean Grey.

Just as quickly as those thoughts slipped out, Logan managed to pull them back in. I wasn't sure if he was hiding them from me or from himself, but either way they were gone. I could tell from the look on his face that he knew I had heard something, and he was not very happy that I had.

"You don't have to tell me," I said, my voice soft. "Or...or show me. But whatever it is going on that has you like this, I'm sorry it happened."

His face was hard as stone, but I could see in his eyes that there was a flux of emotions.

"I lost people," he admitted. "Everyone I loved in my universe. It was my fault and...I just couldn't live with that. I did things...things I regret. Things that could never bring those people back."

"You could be reunited with them in another universe."

He shook his head. "It won't be the same. Every other universe already has a Wolverine. The only one that doesn't is the Mouth's, and that's because he died. I couldn't go back there and put them through seeing me and opening up old wounds. Besides, I don't think I could see them again either. Too much guilt."

I could see Jean's face again, just for a moment, before she was gone again. I could feel Logan's grief; his guilt. The more he opened up, the more his mind became easier to read.

I moved closer to him. Not by much, just an inch to test the waters. When he didn't react, I moved closer again until the space between us was almost completely closed. He looked up at me, but for once he didn't have that scowl on his face. He looked curious by my actions more than anything. I didn't try to push his boundaries any further than just being close to him.

"Good people do bad things sometimes," I told him. "It doesn't make you a bad person."

"I'm no hero, kid," he pointed out.

I shrugged. "Neither am I. None of us are here. But that doesn't mean you can't become a hero."

I wasn't sure if it was the whiskey, the fire, or just how close I was to Logan, but I felt a rush of heat washing over my body. I knew I was definitely feel the effects of the alcohol because I was swaying involuntarily. I started to lean in closer to him, but tried to stop myself as best I could. He seemed amused by it, at least, which made me smile more.

I let out a yawn and stood. I stumbled a little, causing Logan to reach out for me to steady me.

"Are you gonna be able to get back on your own?" he asked.

"I think so, but if you see me passed out along the way do me a favor and carry me back," I said. He chuckled and I tried not to beam too much about it.

I started to walk away, or more like stumble I guess, when Logan called, "Did you see me there tomorrow? In your visions?"

I turned back to him and responded, "Maybe. You'll figure that out tomorrow."

~~~~~~

Good news is, the battle at Cassandra's hideout went well. We took down every one of her cronies, and when Cassandra had left with the army of Deadpools to go to Deadpool-10005's universe, we commandeered her place to keep us safe from Alioth.

Bad news is, Wolverine and Deadpool got out, but the rest of us didn't.

No one really seemed upset over that fact. I mean, besides Laura, who was already missing the variant of Logan ("He may not have been my dad, but he was a version of dad," she had said when she realized he had left without her). Blade, Elektra, and Gambit were more proud of themselves for saving the day, even if it meant not going back to their own realities. I guess I was happy to no longer be under Cassandra's control, too, but I found myself wishing I could've left this place too.

And I found myself dreaming about Logan.

Well, partially dreaming. Some of them were visions.

It's not hard to differentiate between dreams and visions. I don't often get visions when I sleep, but when I do I can feel that they're visions. It's hard to explain other than that. Some nights I found myself dreaming of us by the fire again, except this time I allowed myself to get close enough to Logan to touch him. It very rarely went further than my shoulder against his, sometimes my head against his shoulder. But the visions I had were us together in an apartment I didn't recognize. At first they were all the same - me, Logan, and Wade living domestically in some apartment in New York. Laura was there once too, but only one time.

But then once the vision ended with Logan's arm around my waist and his lips against my forehead. I had woken up with a start before anything else happened.

It was the only vision that showed me with him romantically, but I knew deep down inside of me that that's what I wanted. I mean, Logan is an attractive man. No one could deny that. I may have only known one version of him briefly, but still it was enough to leave me longing for his presence again.

It was just another new normal day in the compound previously owned by Cassandra - I was in my own room reading one of the few books Cassandra had somehow found and kept - when an orange door shaped portal opened. I recognized it as a TVA portal. I sat up quickly, my guard high as I waited for a TVA agent to walk through.

But it wasn't an agent.

It was Logan.

"Come on, kid," he told me. "I'm taking you home."

He didn't have to tell me twice. I was up off my bed and through the portal. I expected to be brought to the TVA first, but I was surprised to find myself in a small apartment.

The apartment from my visions.

I looked around, taking in every detail of the place that I had already seen in my head before. Everything was there, from the pictures to the crude drawings Wade had stuck to the fridge, to the mattress in the middle of the living room where Logan slept. Everything from my visions.

"This..." I said, but paused before I finished the sentence. Did I tell him I had been seeing this place? Did I tell him that I had been seeing us?

When I didn't say anything further, Logan said, "I know it's not your home. But...I wasn't sure if you'd want to go back there."

"I don't," I said quickly. And it was true, I never wanted to go back there. After what my parents had done to me, it was almost a blessing to be sent to the Void. Besides being forced to do Cassandra's bidding.

Logan nodded. "Okay. So...well...welcome. You can stay here as long as you want. It'll take some time to get used to actual society again, I'd assume. The Mouth lives here too - "

As if on cue, the front door opened and there stood Wade, being followed by the mut I once knew as Dogpool.

"Ah! You got the girl!" he said, ushering the dog into the apartment and kicking the door shut behind him. "Finally, he can shut up about seeing you again."

Logan's face turned a shade of red I never expected to see from The Wolverine. "Wade, shut the fuck up."

"What? I'm just saying you've been brooding around this place for ages because we had to leave her behind. You finally have her back. Oh, and Laura! You guys can be one big, happy, fucked up family."

I looked over at Logan. "Laura's here?"

"Not staying with us, but she is in this universe," Logan said. "The TVA agreed to let us save you guys from the Void. Gambit, Elektra, and Blade are all gone back to their own universes now."

"Hopefully one where Gambit can find a better dialect coach," Wade added. "And you get to stay here with us! Isn't that just great? You get to share a bed with Wolvie."

"Only if you're comfortable with that," Logan quickly added, shooting another glare at Wade.

"Of course she'll be fine with that. Better than sharing a bed with Blind Al. Actually, can we switch? I'd much rather cuddle up to the greatest showman."

Logan raised a fist to Wade and unsheathed his claws. It was enough for Wade to finally stop running his mouth and scurry off to his room, the dog following closely behind him. Logan pulled his claws back in and let out a long sigh.

"I'm sorry, I know this is a lot to take in at once," he said. "It's a lot of explaining."

"I can figure it out, I'm sure," I said. "Thank you for saving me."

"I should be thanking you."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "I didn't do anything."

"After our talk by the fire, I realized you were right. I was letting the shit I did get to me for too long. I forgot who I was, or who Charles wanted me to be. I just needed a little push from a different mind reader."

I smiled at him. "You just needed someone to tell you you're not a bad person. It's insane to me that no one had done that before I did. Just cause you did bad things didn't mean you were ever a bad person."

There was a pause, then suddenly I was being pulled towards him. Before my mind could comprehend what was happening, Logan's lips were against mine. His hands were holding my face, holding me to him. It took my brain a few seconds to register what was going on before my hands were reaching for his shirt, holding him as well.

Our moment was swiftly interrupted by a familiar merc exclaiming, "Finally!"

Logan pulled away from me to glare at Wade over my shoulder. I heard the bedroom door slam shut again.

He looked down at me. "I'm sorry that you will have to put up with that."

I giggled. "I guess it's a small price to pay if it means I get to kiss you more."

His smile was so beautiful. It really brightened his face after all the brooding and scowling I had seen him doing before. "I'll kiss you as much as you want, bub. Just gotta make sure Wade is locked away in his room if you want it to be any more than kissing."

"Awe, no fair!" came Wade's voice.

Logan and I shared a look before Logan said, "Maybe we start looking for an apartment of our own."

The suggestion caused my mind to fill with another vision: Logan and I in a small place similar to this one, but one that was just our own. The two of us tangled in sheets, completely naked, with the glow of the sunrise spiling through the blinds onto us.

I smiled, both at the vision and at Logan. "I would love that."

#logan howlett #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett x reader #wolverine #wolverine imagine #wolverine x reader #hugh jackman #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman imagine #deadpool and wolverine #marvel #mcu #imagine #one shot #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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magerightsmagefights · 5 months ago

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My HoFs always romance Zevran, so I'm not really keen on the whole "Crows are actually good and we never see them kill innocents ever, and also no mention of slavery" bit. As such, I've never been interested in a Crow Rook, unless I headcanon them escaping the Crows post-game.

HOWEVER, my next Rook will be a Davrinmance run, and de Riva is undoubtedly the funniest candidate for these conditions. Mainly because she grew up in the shadow of Zevran “biggest embarrassment of the century” Arainai, who not only failed to carry out his contract on a Grey Warden, but actually fell in love with his target and turned against the Crows which led to the downfall of his house.

Which means that after the game, some unlucky soul is going to have to tell Viago "Hey. Uh. So your protege met this Grey Warden..."

"You'd better not say what I think you're going to say."

"And now we can't find her..."

"Absolutely not. Send word to the First Talon. We are not doing this again, and definitely not in my house."

"So about that. The First Talon. She took Lucanis with her."

"??!?"

(I don't see much in Davrin/Lucanis, however it would be immensely funny if they were throupled with Rook because it means Davrin's Grey Warden aura was powerful enough to snatch two Crows.)

#lucanis dellamorte #davrin #dragon age veilguard #rook de riva #viago de riva #dragon age veilgaurd spoilers #da veilguard #veilguard #dragon age the veilguard #da4 spoilers #da spoilers #dragon age spoilers #veilguard spoilers #veilguard rook #davrin x rook #davrin romance #davrin x lucanis #davrin dragon age #davrook

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muwapsturniolo · 8 months ago

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Hockey!matt

First post in the AU!

MATT STURNIOLO: PASSIONATE OR A HOT HEAD?

"Matthew Bernard Sturniolo, a 24-year-old triplet native to Boston Massachusetts. According to his parents, from a young age he and his youngest brother Christopher Owen Sturniolo, were always interested in sports. Seeing this, the parents decided to throw the boys in any sport they could. They started off playing for their town's soccer team, a typical thing for most kids to do. However, it seemed as if the sport wasn't enough for a young Matthew. It was too easy, he cleared all the other kids without even trying. Seeing this, his parents threw him into another sport, lacrosse. Now this held Matthew over for a long time until it became boring, he needed something more.

That's when hockey came into play, a sport most boys in Boston find solace in during the cold months. The sport seemed to be Matt's calling, the ice feeling like a second home. His talent was natural, something most people couldn't obtain no matter how much they trained. He ended up loving the sport so much, he made it his full-time career.

At age 17, he graduated high school alongside his two brothers and their childhood best friend. All four boys managed to get full-ride scholarships to Boston University, a school that had many NCAA wins, and has sent many players to the NHL. Matt took control of the Terriers by force, quickly becoming the captain when only being a freshman. Many of his former teammates and coaches had good things to say about him, but something stood out to me. That something was his anger.

"He was a hothead, always shouting and yelling at us during practice"

"There were a couple of times where he broke his stick and punched a locker after losing a game"

"I remember he argued with our coach one day. The argument was so bad, both of them just ripping into each other. It escalated so quick, one second they were shouting and the next Matt was throwing punches."

All of these are quotes by old teammates who would like to stay anonymous.

It was an evident pattern that managed to follow him to where he is now, the lucky star of the Boston Bruins. I had the specialty of sitting in on some of the practices, seeing how the men work with each other. Just like I expected, Matt was a force to be reckoned with. He yelled and berated some of his teammates, even going as far as getting into an argument with his own brother. It's hard to tell if it's just him being driven by passion, or if he simply has anger issues. I chose to go with the latter considering what I saw during the first game of the preseason.

The Bruins were losing against the New York Rangers, not that the score mattered. The preseason is mainly for the coaches to evaluate their team and see who fits where. So why was Matt Sturniolo causing fights, yelling at refs, and being an overall hothead? He resembled the Hulk, the brute green giant who was also a hothead when angry. It seems as if no matter the situation, training, preseason, or the actual NHL season, he was locked in and out for blood.

He's passionate about the sport, perhaps too passionate. Would it be his downfall? Would the Bruins let him go and leave him to reminisce about his glory days while he rots? We will have to tune in to this year's NHL season to find out."

Y/n Y/L * october 3rd, 2024

AHHHHHH A NEW TROPE/AU!!!!! I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY THIS! IF THIS IS CONFSUING IM SORRY! I TRIED TO MAKE THIS INTRO THE ARTICLE READER (AKA YOU) WROTE ABOUT MATT WHICH JUST SO HAPPENS TO BE HOW YALL MEET! I HOPE THIS GIVES A GOOD BACKGROUND! I PLAN ON DOING FICS FOR THIS AU BUT IM ALSO WILLING TO DO BLURBS JUST HOW I DID FOR BUNNY!READER!!!

LET ME KNOW WHAT YALL THINK!!

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt girl #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo imagine

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ahhhsami · 1 year ago

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Mizu’s Womanhood

I keep thinking about how well Mizu’s story was written. A huge factor that makes me love the show is how they show Mizu’s abilities during fight scenes, but don’t forget that she is a woman. On the surface level people could see these fights as amazing action sequences, but there’s so much story being told at the same time. And that’s what makes an action sequence truly great (Warrior HBO is another example of amazing storytelling through fight choreography. Ah Toy's fight against Cleaver and Hammer comes to mind right away when comparing).

We start off by seeing Mizu tear through young men in Shindo Dojo. Her skills are showcased as agile, flexible, fast, and based on her ability to use her body in ways that are fluid. She’s tested as soon as Taigen enters the picture. He’s physically stronger than her, shown in a multitude of ways throughout the action sequence from him throwing her to him pushing her down to her knee, but she’s still more skilled. She uses his weight against him, which she will do in every fight during the series. Mizu beats him due to her agility and speed. On top of that, it is the first time we see a man assume victory be his downfall. And it will happen on multiple occasions.

Episode 2 comes around and Mizu is tested again, but this time by 4 opponents and one who is significantly larger and more trained (Chiaki). Mizu's smart, evaluates her situation, and changes her surroundings by jumping down onto the cliffside. It doesn’t put her at an advantage, but at least she’s not at a severe disadvantage. It allows her to fight mainly one-on-one which changes her circumstances. But it doesn’t win the fight for her. What does is her resilience, adaptability, and skill once more. Once again, in the fight, the man opens himself up for a counter during the finishing blow. Chiaki ran forward, his guard completely down because he was sure he’d won like Taigen.

Episode 5 is where we get to see Mizu struggle due to overwhelming numbers. She’s forced into a corner, but the weapon that saves her is the Naginata. Naginatajutsu has been most associated with female samurai. The added range was a huge advantage and allowed women to protect their homes when their samurai husband were gone. I love that Mizu's first time using the weapon extensively was in a situation where it wasn’t her own life on the line, but also the women of the brothel. It showcased the connection between the Naginata, women, and protection in a beautiful way. Also, her using it during these circumstance felt like she was reclaiming the weapon from the traumas she had experienced during Mikio's betrayal. The parallels of Mizu not just being demonized for her blue eyes, but also for being a woman was stunning in this episode.

In Episode 6, we see Mizu almost lose to the big club man (Okiyama). We see her completely overpowered by the size difference. Okiyama can pick her up easily, throw her, and she’s unable to parry him properly. For the first time we truly see the difference between a man’s strength and hers (which will also be present against Fowler). The fact that both Fowler and him pick her up, and attempt to crush her with their bare arms is so powerful and as a woman, it’s a striking parallel to the real world and the powers of men. She was going to lose the fight if not for her last ditch effort, that also could have resulted in her own death with the bomb. It shows her willingness to sacrifice everything for the quest she's on. And at the end of the episode, Fowler manhandles her completely. It doesn’t matter that she’s injured, it doesn’t matter that he has a gun. What matters in that scene is that he takes pleasure in using his power. He destroys the weak and he lords over them. He uses women as sex slaves. He cares for no one but himself. He is the perfect representation of what Mizu as a woman has to fight against.

There’s no fight scene in Episode 7 of note, but what is important is Mizu’s acceptance of her appearance, whether it be the blue eyes and sharp features, or her womanly features, all of them had once been sources of pain for her. The heart sutra scene is stunning and one of my favorites of the entire series (even if her little toesies were most likely being burned to be so close to the makeshift forge).

And finally Episode 8. We get to see her fight Fowler. I have multiple gripes with the structure of this fight, but it still represents Mizu’s womanhood in a way that continues the flow of the series. Mizu has to use everything to take down Fowler and even when she does she is still overpowered by him. He mirrors Okiyama, easily lifting her and using his strength over her instead of skill. And the line “your bones break like a woman’s” shows the societal norm that men associate with women being weaker, fragile, and unable to withstand what men can. It's fitting of the time period, but also current day too.

But hubris is the man’s downfall in this series because as soon as he lets his guard down, she takes her chance. She breaks free, her rage, need for vengeance, and essential reason for being at this point drive her to beat him. The single line “Oh my dear, that’s your white half showing,” doesn’t just target her being mixed race, but also being a woman. Fowler doesn’t let up there though, he calls her eyes pretty. And not just because they’re blue, but because they’re of a woman’s. He brings up unwanted daughters and digs the knife deeper. And these last lines from Fowler represent everything that Mizu has been combating, everything that has been driving her. There’s so much to her character. The writing in this series shows how multiple compounding factors contribute to a person's drive. And in this instance, it shows how being a woman and half-white has lead to Mizu’s self-hatred and it’s beautiful in such a destructive way.

#blue eye samurai #mizu #I have my gripes with the show but Mizu's character is not one of them lol #Love her/them so much <3 #Taigen #Fowler #Chiaki #Okiyama #long post

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propertyofhenrywinter · 2 years ago

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Long live the walls we crashed through

Max Verstappen x driver!reader

Summary: you are involved in a crash so horrid everyone assumes you couldn’t have survived.

WC: just under 2k

You honestly didn’t know what exactly had happened yourself. You remember when everyone was waiting for the rain to end, so the race could begin. Unfortunately, it didn’t look like the downfall was going to stop anytime soon. All drivers were instructed to wait on the starting grid, so you and Charles, who was starting P5 next to your P6, where keeping each other entertained by playing some stupid game involving a lot of hand gestures. “Okay, I’ve just received word they are going to try and start the race despite the wet conditions.” your engineer’s voice interrupts you while you here trying to gesture a horse to Charles. “What? In this weather? Are they sure?” What you really had wanted to ask if they were plotting to murder one of the drivers or if they were just plain stupid. You look over at Charles as you saw his body language change, you assumed he had just gotten a similar message. “They gave us some vague reasons about the fans waiting and keeping the fight for the championship as exciting as possible,” your engineer explained.

The race had started out boring, slow, and mainly wet. None of drivers really felt secure while driving so there were almost no overtakes, no battles for a better place, nothing to entertain fans. Not that you thought that mattered considering you were quite sure the track wasn’t even visible from the stands thanks to the rain. However, between lap 4 and 5 the conditions started to better and some battles emerged on the track and positions started changing. You had managed to overtake both Charles and George, leaving only a certain Aston Martin driver standing between you and a place on the podium. The weather was almost dry at that moment, but you didn’t realise, no, you were only focused beating Alonso and joining your boyfriend on the podium. (Because let’s be honest best-case scenario: he was first, again. Worst case? Second) What you also failed to notice was a red car behind you disappearing to pit for slicks, because his team was so sure it would stay dry.

Although what had occurred after happened in a blitz, you could still remember that part as well. The Ferrari driver had just joined the track again and was being separated from you by George, when suddenly, the rain came back. It didn’t start with a drizzle, no warning droplets, just from zero to one hundred faster than any f1 car could. You vision was now reduced to that of a senior mole, giving you indication about the location of the driver in front of you. Lucky for you, you were familiar with the track at this point, so you didn’t worry about crashing yourself, but an invisible man in front of you was plenty of worry. You could hear your radio turning on, but you never heard what your teams plan of action was.

Because unbeknownst to you Charles, his brand-new slicks, the rain, and a nasty sharp turn steered his car into the young Mercedes driver. It was only a slight, soft touch. Just a tick. A little nudge if you must name it. But in those bad conditions George started to spin. But before he had started to spin and before he had been touched by the Ferrari, he had shortened the distance between the two of you by quite a lot. So, when he spun it took less than three seconds to feel his car touch something again. Now this wasn’t a nudge this is where your memory gets a little hazy.

George’s car spun into you. You lost control as well. You went through a wall. You flipped upside down. The car broke in two. Fire. Lots of fire. You got out.

You got out. You don’t remember how you did it, but you lived, and you were standing next to the burning vehicle. Half in shock from what happened you couldn’t deter your eyes from the flames you were a part of moments ago. You stood there in complete stillness contrasting your team’s garage at the same time.

“Max please come in, red flag.” “Yeah, I thought I saw something in my mirrors. I saw some yellow tints. Was that fire? Is everybody OK?” “Just come in, please, we’ll explain then.”

Max jumped out of his car once he reached his team garage, where it was unusually quiet. “What happened? Why didn’t you tell me over the radio?” Max already started asking his questions before he had even pulled his balaclava all the way off, so his words sounded more like scrambled mumbles. Not that it really mattered; his team knew what he wanted to know. “Wait, why did only I get called in?” he asked once he noticed your car wasn’t on the other side of the garage, where it usually would be if you had to wait out a red flag. Max averted his gaze from the empty spot to the mechanics, who gave each other looks as if to say “I’m not saying it. You do it.” “Max,” he heard Horner trying to catch his attention. Normally the presence of the team principal would make him wonder what was bad enough that he had to intervene himself instead of sending someone else to deal whit whatever the issue was. Right then, however, he didn’t have to wonder. His eyes had caught the screens behind the engineers displaying a view of the track. This wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary if it wasn’t for your car. Specifically, the back side of your car; he couldn’t see the front, but he assumed it must have gone through the barrier. “Along with you,” he couldn’t stop himself from thinking. Due to the fire, he couldn’t see or estimate the severity of the crash, but it did not look good. “You have her vitals, right?” he asked Horner, who had been tuning out ‘til now. “Well,” the principal began. “You’ve talked to her through the radio. Please. Tell me you know she’s alright.” Max said more as a question. At the lack of response his head started spinning. “We haven’t been able to contact her yet. No input about her vitals has come in since the crash.” Max stopped listening after that and just bolted to his driver’s room. Shutting the door behind himself, he was glad none of his team members tried to follow or stop him. Tears were already forming in his eyes while he turned on the small tv to be able to check on any updates regarding your crash.

Meanwhile you were already on your way to the team’s garage. You were surprised that no reporters intercept you on your way there, but you figured they were just focused on the crash site. You knew you should’ve gone to the medical centre first, but you felt fine and cared more to let everyone know you were alright. As you made your way trough the paddock, you start to wonder if people knew you got out of the car. They didn’t, you had no way of knowing this of course but at that time fire marshals were busy putting the fire out.

Max was watching them on the screen in his room, trying not to think about you in there. He almost threw up at the idea that you were still in there and that you might never come out, or that you might already be gone. He really didn’t want to, but he just couldn’t stop his mind frow straying to thought about waking up without you beside him, having dinner alone, never getting to complain about your shoes lying in the middle of the hallway again. His thoughts were about to make him physically sick when there was a nock on the door. He really didn’t want to be disturbed so he didn’t even bother responding. Another few nocks got ignored until he got fed up and shouted, “Leave me alone.” His request however got denied as a male voice sounded from the other side of the door. “We have an… update on the crash.” Max recognized the voice as one of the mechanics who was in the garage earlier. Although he was pissed off that he hadn’t been left to sulk in his misery alone, he was intrigued by the news, since there had been no new information shared on the broadcast he had been following on his TV. He also got scared, considering it was most likely that whatever it was it wouldn’t be good.

You were chatting to a still slightly worried Horner when you heard someone rapidly approaching you. You turn your head to see Max walking towards you with an unreadable expression on his face. “Hi,” you said softly right before he reached you. When he did, he just looked at you for a split second and then pulled you in his arms. He put is head in the crook of your neck, pulling you up to your tippy toes to reach it, and held his arms so tight around you that you believed it would leave a permanent indentation in your ribcage. “Let’s go somewhere more private,” you suggested, suddenly feeling the eyes of everyone around you burning in your back. “Okay.” Max said before almost dragging you into your driver’s room, considering it was a little closer by than his. He shut the door behind you and was back beside you before you could even bat an eye. “Are you alright?” he asks as he takes your face in both his hands. “I’m fine.” You pull one of his hands away from your face and just hold it. “You really scared me,” he said right before he pulled you in for a hug. “Well, I didn’t mean to,” you respond. “Just don’t ever do that again,” he says while he starts placing soft kisses on your face and head. “Wasn’t planning on it,” you scoff before pulling him in for a real kiss. You two stand there for a while, just holding each other, before you decide to rejoin the paddock.

“For a moment I really thought I killed you,” George confesses. Every knew you survived the seemingly survivable crash and the mood throughout the whole track was a lot less heavy than it had been a few minutes before. “It wasn’t your fault, you know that. Even if something worse would’ve happened I wouldn’t want you blaming yourself for a single second,” you explain. “It’s a risk we all take every time we get into that car and we’re all very much aware of it,” you add. “And it isn’t like I could leave anyway,” you smile. “why’s that?” George asks. “I mean who would play gestures with Charles before the races?” you look over at Charles before getting cut off by your boyfriend’s voice. “It’s not our fault you two won’t explain your made-up game to anyone else,” he protests. In response you and Charles give him a universal recognized obscene gesture while laughing to yourselves. While the conversation takes another turn you take some time realizing how lucky you are; not just for surviving the crash but for the amazing life you had. You wrap your arms around Max and lean you head against his upper body. “What is this for?” he asks but wastes no time in returning the gesture also wrapping his arms around you. “Do I need a reason to show I love boyfriend al of a sudden?” you playfully say. Max just smiles and says, “I love you too.”

Part 2

AN: So, this was my first ever fanfic so fee back and corrections are more than welcome. Also, I do have an idea for a part two so lmk if you would like that.

#max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fluff

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