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beckyninja · 3 days ago

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Duty

Pairing: Roboute Guilliman x FemReader

Warnings: Nothing much this time, just angst

Description: As further opposition to the alliance between their peoples is revealed, Guilliman's betrothed finally opens up about her past.

Whew! With all the holiday craziness, I didn't think I'd get this posted today. Anyway, I hope you guys don't mind some lore. This is a sequel to Worthy, and a continuation of my Guilliman/Reader story. You can find the other stories in this series on my Masterlist.

In the all but empty Communications Center, Guilliman stared at the holographic image of Captain Takahashi. His Admechs and the Captain’s technicians had finally managed to cobble together an interphase between the two ships’ communications systems. Still, the Captain’s image flickered and lagged as she spoke.

“...have rooted out two more conspirators, Lord Guilliman. A pair of sanitation specialists. They attempted to take control of my ship’s steering mechanism.”

Guilliman clenched his gauntleted fist. “That makes seven attempts to date.”

“All of which we have discovered and stopped.”

“To your credit, Captain.”

The woman nodded curtly. “All the same, I agree it remains too dangerous to allow the Lady Heir to return on a permanent basis. Though, she will still need to send the first message to our homeworld once we are in range.”

“In two standard days.”

“Yes.”

Guilliman shook his head in wonder. Even in the time of the Great Crusade, such long range communication, without the aid of Astropaths, was more fantasy than reality. He added it to his mental list of technologies to acquire once the treaty was formalized.

“You will be sending the conspirators over for interrogation.”

The Captain’s eyes turned icy. “I will. Though I expect it will be more of the same.”

Guilliman scowled. During each interrogation, an implant of some kind had activated a small electromagnetic pulse within the prisoners’ brains, eradicating all higher functions. Only the first, the former Lord O’Rourke, had managed to give them any information before his unexpected lobotomy.

“Captain, you promised to clarify a few details from the first interrogation when last we spoke.”

For the first time, Captain Takahashi looked uneasy. Her eyes flickered behind Guilliman.

He understood. “Sicarius, await me outside. And see that none enter.”

He heard Cato’s teeth grinding as he obeyed.

“Forgive my hesitance, Lord Guilliman.” The Captain frowned. “But what I am about to reveal would no doubt be considered treasonous by my superiors.”

“I am grateful for your trust, Captain.”

Her frown softened. “I have come to believe we both have the Lady Heir’s best interests at heart.” She clasped her hands behind her back. “You told me how O’Rourke mentioned his orders came from a ‘prince’, someone he believed to be the true heir to our world.”

Guilliman nodded. He had long suspected your home to be less peaceful than you implied. Your obvious discomfort whenever the topic arose, the way you dodged the subject with the skill of an Aeldari warrior, and, of course, the continued sabotage attempts by your entourage did little to persuade him otherwise.

His logical mind knew the value of this alliance and the technology it would bring to the Imperium. But, in his deepest soul, none of that mattered. Someone was trying to take you from him. You.

Only centuries of practice hid his churning rage.

The Captain continued. “As you know, our world is led by the Matriarch. She had three children, all who have since died. My Lady is the only child of her eldest and, under our laws, the Heir. But she has two cousins, the two princes.”

Guilliman’s lips twisted sardonically. He’d dealt with enough Imperial nobility to be more than aware of the twists and turns of dynastic politics. Part of him felt saddened at the thought that you came from a family afflicted with such foolishness.

And yet, he bit back a bitter laugh, was my own “family” so different?

“Her Grace has made no secret of her preference for my Lady’s eldest cousin. He is a charismatic young man, currently riding high on the glory of military success.” The Captain paused, looked uncertain, then continued. “In my opinion, Lord Guilliman, the Matriarch purposely isolated my Lady so she could not compete with her cousin’s popularity.”

A shrewd move. Guilliman had to admit.

No one who had ever met you and experienced your thoughtfulness and compassion could doubt your potential for popularity with the masses. How quickly you’d won the adoration of his own serfs proved that. Not to mention the progress you’d made among the Ultramarines.

“You think he is the ‘prince’ who gave O’Rourke his orders.”

The Captain frowned. “Possibly. The other option is the younger cousin. He’s rumored to be quite intelligent, but the Matriarch destined him for holy orders. He’s been sequestered in one of our scholastic monasteries since he came of age.”

Guilliman narrowed his eyes. “If dealing with my own Ecclesiarchy has taught me anything, it is that the lust for power can infect even the holiest-seeming priest.”

“Indeed.”

Guilliman stared through the Captain’s image, mind working. Too many variables. Not enough data.

“What do you believe, Captain?”

The Captain looked him in the eye. “Whoever gave the orders is irrelevant. I believe this mission was supposed to fail. All of us, myself, my crew, and the Lady Heir were supposed to die at Imperial hands.”

Yet again, Guilliman found himself impressed by this tiny baseline woman’s strength of will. “Thus removing the only obstacle to a prince’s rise to power, and ensuring your world’s continued isolation.”

“Yes.” The Captain’s lips lifted into a slight smile. “But no one back home foresaw this particular turn of events.”

Guilliman huffed a laugh. “Nor did anyone here.” His mirth was short-lived. “Once my betrothed sends her message, however, the game changes.”

“And all Void will break loose. She needs to be made aware.”

Therein lay the crux of the problem. How much did he tell you? How much did you already suspect?

“I agree.”

The Captain must have seen something in his face. “You said once that she’s stronger than she looks, Lord Guilliman. I assure you, it’s true.”

Strong in some ways, yes. But so, so fragile in others.

***

“Fascinating, Brother Tarchus. Remind me which section of the Codex that is again?” You smiled up at the Ultramarine, stylus and dataslate in hand.

“Certainly, my Lady. Chapter 647, Section F, Subsection B-14, Paragraph 54….”

You scribbled frantically. “Ah, yes. Thank you. I have it now.” I think. “And why would you say this is your favorite passage?”

The giant warrior actually looked excited. “The minutiae of supply lines, especially to besieged worlds, is an excellent example of the importance of efficiency and practicality in uncertain circumstances.”

There. Something you could grasp. “The creation of order in the midst of anarchy?”

“Precisely.” You swore the Ultramarine almost smiled.

“In times of uncertainty, the order brought by the Ultramarines must be a great comfort to Imperial citizens.”

Tarchus cocked his head to one side. “I suppose that is one of the outcomes.”

“A beneficial one, surely.” You continued. “A fearful population is vulnerable to manipulation, whereas a population confident in its protectors is steadfast and resilient.”

“I had not considered.”

“Something to think about, yes?”

The Ultramarine looked thoughtful. “Perhaps.”

“Well, I should not keep Lord Guilliman waiting. Thank you for taking the time to explain more of the Codex Astartes to me, Brother Tarchus. It was kind of you.”

He nodded. “I found the conversation stimulating, my Lady.”

“I should like to continue in the future, if we may.”

“I��am amenable to that suggestion.”

You gave him a final nod, smiled again, and stepped past him into Guilliman’s chambers. Once through, you couldn’t hold back a laugh of triumph.

Your betrothed looked up at you from his place behind his desk. “And what has you so giddy this evening, my love?”

He stretched out a hand, and you hurried to his side. “I managed to engage Brother Tarchus in conversation just now!”

“Indeed? It was my understanding he was being particularly stubborn.”

“Ah, but I believe I’ve found the key to an Ultramarine’s hearts.” You smiled slyly up at him.

He chuckled. “Enlighten me.”

“I simply get them talking about the Codex Astartes. It seems to be their favorite topic.”

“Believe me, I am aware.” He lifted his eyes to the ceiling and gave a dramatic shake of his head. “You have swept all before you, my Lady. Are none of my sons safe from your wiles?”

You rolled your eyes. “You know at least one is.”

“Cato can be… difficult.”

To put it mildly. You pursed your lips.

Guilliman ran a finger along your jawline. “Do not fret. You cannot help but be beloved by all in time.”

You felt heat rush to your face. “What…what happened to your ‘no touching’ rule?”

A flash of mischief in his blue eyes was the only warning you received before you found yourself hoisted up and deposited in his lap. You gasped and caught yourself with outstretched hands against his massive chest.

“Roboute!”

An arm of steel wrapped about your shoulders, pinning you against him. “I thought depriving myself entirely of your touch would cool my ardor. Instead, it seemed to have the opposite effect.”

His head lowered, lips just shy of your own, as his voice dropped to the rumbling growl you loved. “Instead, I have decided to allow myself a few…small…indulgences….”

You melted into his arms when he kissed you, slowly and deeply.

An eternity, and yet not nearly long enough, later, he pulled away and smiled down at you. You rested your head against his chest and closed your eyes.

This. If I could just have this, forever, I would be satisfied.

“My love, we need to talk.”

“Mmm?”

The double beat of his hearts soothed you. You realized you could easily fall asleep like this, cradled in his arms, safe.

“It is time you told me more of your family.”

Your eyes snapped wide. “What?”

No. No no no. I’m not ready!

His arm tightened slightly around you, as if he feared you’d bolt. You considered doing exactly that.

“Captain Takahashi contacted me this morning.” Guilliman’s voice was kind, but firm. “There was another sabotage attempt.”

You jerked upright. “Was anyone hurt?”

“No. The Captain’s men-at-arms are skilled. But the fact remains,” he brought his other hand to your chin, holding it in place, “they were following orders from a prince of your house.”

Two faces appeared unbidden in your mind. One, fierce and angular, baring its teeth in a wide grin. The other, rounded and pale, eyes sullen.

“Victor and Conrad….” You didn’t realize you’d spoken the names aloud until Guilliman reacted.

“Your cousins.”

You couldn’t turn your head away, but you dropped your eyes from his piercing gaze. “Yes. My cousins.”

You didn’t want to think about them. You didn’t want to think about…her. In desperation, you tried a new tactic. Slowly, you moved your hands up Guilliman’s chest, caressing the hard muscle beneath his tunic.

“Can’t we talk about this later?” You looked up at him through your eyelashes, wetting your lips with your tongue.

His breath stuttered, his eyes going dark and hungry.

You continued exploring his chest with your fingers, feeling rather proud of yourself… until he released your chin and captured both wrists in an iron grip.

“A good attempt.” One side of his mouth tilted upward. “But I will not be distracted.”

Struggling only emphasized your utter helplessness. “Roboute, please.”

“What are you so afraid of, my love?”

Something snapped inside. You snarled at the man you loved.

“I’m afraid of her! My grandmother, the Matriarch, the heartless bitch.” A hysterical laugh burst through your lips. “You think one of my cousins is behind all this? Whoever the saboteurs assumed their orders came from, I guarantee she is the one pulling the strings. She wants me dead.”

You stopped, panting. Guilliman stared down at you. It frightened you how little emotion you saw behind his regal mask.

“Why?”

Why indeed? Why stop now? Let’s air all the family’s dirty laundry.

“She hated my mother first. My mother, her eldest, her legacy. My mother, who threw everything away to sail the stars. My mother, who returned years later, pregnant with an unknown man’s child.”

You couldn’t have stopped even if you wanted to. The words poured forth like blood from a wound.

“Grandmother banished my mother to an isolated Abbey in the highlands. I was born there, among the Holy Sisters.” You smiled at the memory of happier days. “Mother became their huntress, bringing in game for the larders. During her absences, I learned alongside the novitiates. History, theology, but also botany and bioengineering. I spent hours in their gardens and greenhouses. The Sisters are famed for engineering new forms of plantlife, medicines and textiles as well as food.”

You didn’t see Guilliman anymore. You saw the kindly, wizened Mother Superior, cradling a new strain of vitamin-infused apple in her weathered hands. You saw rows of pungent medicinal herbs swaying in the greenhouses. You saw Mother, laughing, hands outstretched to welcome you into her arms.

“When I was twelve, Mother died on a hunt. I grieved. But I wasn’t alone. The Sisters were my family.” You felt tears coming as you dropped your voice to a whisper. “Then, one night….”

Screams. You jerked awake in your room amongst the other novitiates, all of you bleary-eyed and confused. Light poured through the windows. You heard the hard tramp of boots. The door burst open and Sister Helena fell into the room, shoved from behind.

“Which one is she?” A harsh voice boomed.

The man it belonged to stood in the doorway, covered head to toe in tactical armor, brandishing a pistol.

He shouted your name. Sister Helena crouched on the floor, but said nothing. The man snarled and aimed his weapon at her.

“Wait!” You screamed, scrambling out of bed. “It’s me! I’m the one you’re looking for!”

You had no idea why they wanted you. But you weren’t going to let them hurt your family.

The rest of the night was a blur of grasping hands, roaring engines, and bitter cold. They hadn’t let you change out of your nightdress. They hadn’t let you say goodbye.

“The soldiers took me to the Matriarch, my grandmother, who said a plague that had devastated our cities the year prior had killed my two uncles. I was now the heir. Lessons followed. Endless lessons as she tried to force me into the model princess. At first, I resisted. But the consequences….” You shuddered. “I learned to keep quiet. I learned to obey. I learned to fear.”

You felt Guilliman’s hand on your lower back, rubbing circles. Slowly, your surroundings came back into focus.

“Breathe, my love.” His deep voice dispelled the haze of terror. “Just breathe.”

You buried your face in his chest, but words kept coming. “She didn’t want me. Not really. In time, I realized she was using me as a threat to my eldest cousin, Victor. By naming me heir, but promising the position to him if he behaved, she kept him on a tight leash. I was safe for a time. But if I hadn’t proposed this diplomatic mission, my death would have come at her hands sooner or later.”

“You must have known this envoy might have gotten you killed, with or without your family’s interference.”

“I knew.” You wondered if you sounded as desperate as you felt. “But it was a chance. A way out! I couldn’t stay in that palace anymore, with her and her spies always watching.”

Another hysterical laugh. “You know Grandmother once refused me meals for an entire week in a fit of rage? I would have starved to death if not for the kindness of the servants. I-I just…I had to…oh, Light help me.”

You wept, clinging to Guilliman, the only solid point in the maelstrom tearing through you. “Don’t let me go, Roboute. Please. Don’t let me go.”

His huge arms tightened further around you. “Never.”

***

Guilliman held you as you sobbed, held you close, and seethed.

I could raze her planet. I could smother it in steel, snuffing out the lives of everyone who ever hurt her.

He wouldn’t, though. The cost in innocents would be too high. You’d never forgive him. But still….

“Damn the alliance.” He growled. “Damn the treaty. Let your Matriarch think you dead. Let her think the barbarians of the Imperium slaughtered your entire entourage.”

Your sobs quieted and you looked up at him with wide eyes.

He cupped your face in his palm. “Marry me, return with me to Ultramar, and let me care for you. You need never set foot upon your homeworld again.”

“It would be so easy,” you murmured, closing your eyes, “to just say yes. To stay safely in your shadow and forget everything else.”

“Then say yes.”

A long moment passed in silence. He heard the muted voices outside his office, the omnipresent hum of the great ship, and your beating heart. Then, you opened your reddened eyes.

“I can’t, Roboute.” You seemed calmer now. “I may have originated this plan as an escape from my home, but all the other reasons I gave, I believe in them too. My people need the rest of humanity, and the rest of humanity needs us.”

A mixture of disappointment and sheer awe filled him. How, in the vastness and cruelty of the universe, had he found a woman so perfectly matched to himself?

“I used to dream of running away.” He muttered, only half aware he spoke aloud. “I dreamed of cutting free of the Imperium, of becoming a farmer. An honest, simple life.”

“It sounds lovely.” You smiled sadly. “But we can’t cast duty aside so easily, you and I. We care too much. All we can hope for,” you placed your hand against his cheek, mirroring him, “is to find someone to share that duty with us. Someone to stand beside us. Someone to love.”

“I love you.” Throne, my hearts feel about to burst with it.

“And I you.”

He kissed you again. Soft and gentle and so, so sweet. When he pulled himself away, you tucked yourself back against his chest.

“Forgive me for hiding all this from you, Roboute. I was afraid. I’ve been afraid for so long.”

“There is nothing to forgive.”

“When we reach my homeworld, my family will stand against us.”

Ferocity welled within him. Lifting you in his arms, he carried you to the great viewport and looked out upon the passing stars. Logically, he knew the star your world circled was not among them.

Still, he issued a challenge.“I am Roboute Guilliman, Lord of Ultramar, Lord Regent of the Imperium, Primarch.” He held you close. “Let them try.”

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#warhammer 40k #roboute gulliman #primarch #primarch x reader #roboute guilliman x reader #time for some angst with a side of lore #also a little bit of cuddling #ultramarines

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peppermintquartz · 15 hours ago

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Tim Minear I know you are lurking in here, so let's clarify some things before you set down your words for 8b:

1) Don't change the character is not the same as Don't let them grow

Characters should have authentic growth and motivations true to their nature. E.g. Maddie has taken care of her baby brothers from day one. She was a nurse. She is now a dispatcher. Her motivation is to nurture and care for people. Don't change her into someone who will callously walk away from someone in need. But it doesn't mean she doesn't walk away from someone in need - she will just have to struggle a lot with that choice, both before and after making it. It's character growth that she can make herself do it. But the core of her remains the same.

2) Mix up the relationships

When's the last time you had Karen interact with, say, Buck? Or Athena and Eddie? Chimney and Josh? Bobby with Maddie? Also, do you ever intend to have Eddie and Maddie in the same scene?

3) Focus on the focus

The focus on Brad was Not It. Why are you giving airtime to a character that is irrelevant to the 118's change and growth? What your fans tuned in for was the found family vibes. Now all you got is "Coworkers Who Get Along".

4) Include recurring characters more often, even if they don't show up

You have a UNIVERSE of characters. Athena telling Bobby something about Michael being annoyed at Harry's attitude. Josh or Sue can be just mentioned in a scene with Maddie and Buck, maybe they're having a minor debate about changing the coffee machine in Dispatch. Someone can ask how Ravi is doing at, idk, law school. Eddie could mention Tommy missing pickup basketball. Chimney could mention how the Lees wanna teach Jee-yun Korean.

5) What do they want?

What does each main character want in every season? If your audience can't answer that, then you need to really work on refining their purpose so that they and their stories have direction. And they shouldn't be wanting the same thing every damn season.

Edit:

6) Crash That Helicopter BUT DON'T KILL THE PILOT

DO NOT KILL THE PILOT I REPEAT DO NOT KILL THE PILOT

#911 critical #you know what #just hire me #911 abc #tim minear #i am serious #DO NOT KILL FIREFIGHTER PILOT TOMMY KINARD

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respectthepetty · 22 hours ago

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Spare Me Your Mercy Thoughts

I have waited almost four years for this show since MDL made a placeholder for Euthanasia in early-2021, and now that it is here, I'm going to gush about all the ways I love it!

Just like a few of Dr. Sammon's other shows airing around the holidays (Manner of Death, Dead Friend Forever, and Petrichor), I'm thankful I got the first episode of Spare Me Your Mercy on Thanksgiving and the last will come on Christmas because this is the exact show I need for the holiday season since it began the entire series with Tew, the cop, having to perform euthanasia on an animal.

I grew up and still live in a rural area where cattle far outnumber the actual folks, so I fully understand euthanasia is a good death as the word implies, so I will not be struggling through the premise of this show, and I have faith the show won't either because when Tew fired the gun, the scene was peaceful.

And the show is making some pointed remarks about how things operate outside of bigger cities since Kan specifically mentioned he has about 2,500 patients. When the other officer asked the nurses if Kan had a long queue, they didn't even respond. Kan also clarified that his specialty is palliative care, so he has to monitor a wide range of long-term illnesses, so even though Tew might actually be from this place, he is now the outsider and out of his depth before he even started.

Sidenote: I cannot be mad at a nurse, even if one of them turns out bad because the way they all protect Kan from the police is the teamwork I love to see.

The red light to notify the office the doctor is seeing a patient coming on right after Kan responded to the nurse that it wasn't a murder case yet was perfection.

I already knew Kan was going to be my favorite character, but Tor is doing amazing showing the layers Kan has, as expected. Kan tells Tor he can cry and shows him kindness, but when pushed, Kan makes small digs about how people should spend the last moments of someone's life cherishing them when rudely questioned by Tew regarding the unexpected deaths knowing Tew did not get to see his mother before she died. He also made a subtle display of knowing where things were located in the house because he is in control.

The way he slid his LINE information into the conversation AFTER indirectly telling Tew he was being emotional due to his grief is why I'm excited to see another version of Manner of Death's Tan. Kan probably does like Tew but he stays focused and calculated.

He is terrifying without there being any concrete detail to pinpoint on why he is scary. Som, while describing people being possessed by evil murderous spirits, was terrified of Kan, and the transition from Som telling his story to Kan appearing at the exact moment Som was going to state what human form the evil spirits take was brilliant.

But what's even more terrifying is the treatment of the terminally ill. They are viewed as a burden, locked away, and isolated.

And Tew witnessed it. He got a glimpse of what Kan sees daily, so the show is already building up a case in defense of Kan's actions. If he is performing euthanasia, Tew could understand. He heard the goat's bell. He knew it was still alive, but he decided to end its suffering, cleanly and swiftly, which is what euthanasia is. He saw that man left behind by his family and even moved to go get him. And he was bothered when the man's daughter stated her reasoning for leaving him out there alone.

He also stopped Kan from continuing to question Som. Therefore, the true conflict has been set. Tew, whose job is to discover the truth, doesn't need it if it causes pain, but Kan's entire job is making pain manageable.

And I always want to trust a woman, but as suspicious as the director is being about everything, babygirl would be the perfect person to attempt euthanasia since the dead would end up on her table where she could claim the death was the result of the illness.

Because euthanasia is a good death.

And this ain't it.

He understands that.

But someone doesn't.

#spare me your mercy #episode one #let me go make some food #and be thankful that Dr. Sammon continues to bless us with ethical dilemmas

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zoueriemandzijnopmars · 2 years ago

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I wrote 4 pages of my thesis so far and I already made 2 footnotes (and they are not references)

#If I get the chance I will use footnotes or brackets #apparently my thesis will become a footnote case #Anyway I was writing about causality and I came up with an example like: If I knock over my glass and the water makes my notes unreadable #me knocking it over is a cause of me not being able to read my notes #so I had to clarify that this was not a true story #the other footnote is more functional with background info #part time studyblr #I made an original post

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dazais-guardian-angel · 1 year ago

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Chapter 110 is 13 pages long welcome to hell!!! so in a lot of ways this is just more fuel for a theory that I've had for a few weeks now, that's only gotten stronger with each recent season 5 episode, which is that the last episode of the season is gonna end on 110, and that Asagiri/Harukawa and Bones have been collaborating to make this happen, specifically because it's a major turning point that would be the only good place to end the season on.

When we started getting especially long chapters again (like from 25-35ish pages, with the exception of 107.5, the last two being some of the longest we've ever had), at first I just assumed that Asagiri/Harukawa got freed up from some other obligations they'd been having to cause the extremely short/half chapters, like promotional stuff for the anime/Beast movie, or working on light novels. But then 109 happened, with the "supposed" death of Dazai, and heavy emphasis at the end on how literally everyone is at their lowest point right now, and I got to thinking. 11 episodes is a strangely specific number for an anime season -- why not 12, or 13, or even 10, like you'd usually see? Why have we gotten suddenly gotten two 35 page chapters out of nowhere, that's almost unheard of at this point? They're both beautiful chapters, don't get me wrong (as always), and maybe A/H simply just didn't want to cut them in halves because they felt like the full emotional impact wouldn't hit/that there were no good cutoff points in them, but you can't deny that it's surprising, after all the shorter chapters we've been getting. Why has the anime been going at such insanely breakneck pacing for the most part ever since around the Sunday Tragedy chapters, even more so than it has in the past? So much so that it feels dangerously close to overtaking the manga?

Well, maybe, just maybe, it's because..... Asagiri decided a long time ago that whatever happens in 110 is the only point that feels "season finale"-worthy enough, in an arc that still isn't anywhere close to being completely wrapped up, and so both the manga and the anime have been specifically coordinated to reach that part within 2 and a half weeks of each other?

I've seen a lot of people now think season 5 will end with 109, and as much as my sadistic side would find that hilarious, I honestly don't think they'd do that and realistically don't want it to happen; it'd be so cruel to cliffhanger the anime for years like that, and just doesn't feel like a season cliffhanger BSD would do, a series that is ultimately hopeful and uplifting. Seasons 2 and 3 had a positive, conclusive ending; the only reasons seasons 1 and 4 didn't was because they're technically not really full seasons of their own, and are more like the first cour of another "season" that also came out that same year (seasons 1 and 2 both aired in 2016, so they're more like one big season, and seasons 4 and 5 have both aired this year, so they're also more like one big season, again taking into account how episodes 12 and 50 are not satisfying finales like episodes 24, 37, and hypothetically, 61, are). I really can't see season 5 ending with Dazai and Fukuzawa's supposed deaths, Sigma being unconscious and maybe close to death, Atsushi being vulnerable and limbless again, everyone we love still vampires, and the entire world being basically doomed; that's just too depressing and not like BSD at all. However, having said that, if it doesn't end there, there really isn't any good place to end the season before that, either, that feels in any way satisfying or like a finale at all. And so, to me, that only leaves after 109: chapter 110.

I think things are really gonna turn around next chapter. Like I said, everyone is at their lowest point right now, it cannot possibly get any worse, the framing of Dazai, Fukuzawa, and sskk at the end of 109 is telling us that; this is the time for the heroes to finally start winning again, with Aya being so close to pulling out the sword, and for all the thematic reasons other people have talked about to death that I don't need to go into here again. This upcoming chapter being so short again makes a part of me wary of 110 being "the one", so to speak, I won't lie, but at the same time, it's very possible that it needs to be that short because that's all the final episode of the season will be able to reasonably fit in, since it's already gonna be VERY close if they do make it all the way to 109. And at the end of the day, I don't doubt at all that Asagiri and Harukawa can make these the most monumental and game-changing mere 13 pages ever if they wanted to; a chapter does not at all need to be extremely long in order to be an important and impactful one, even if short ones we've gotten in the past haven't felt the most important.

An additional thought I've had, though this is much more crack territory than all this already is, is that since we know from Anime Expo that a Stormbringer movie at some point is highly likely (judging from Asagiri's reaction when someone brought it up), it's possible that chapter 110 and thus the final episode will involve the long-anticipated return of Verlaine and/or Adam, or at least some other major reference to Stormbringer, that would naturally and smoothly lead into a Stormbringer movie to explain things to people who haven't read the novel. It would make a lot of sense, especially since the s4 OP has the Old World sign behind Chuuya, which might be a hint that this has been in the works ever since seasons 4/5 were first in planning with Asagiri. We also know that Dazai and Chuuya's voice actors apparently struggled to record their lines together this season, which probably relates to 101 and possibly 109, but it could be 110 too.... I could be very wrong, as I'm no expert on this kind of thing, but I kinda doubt they would bring Chuuya's actor in for just the vampire growls, and Asagiri placing heavy emphasis on Chuuya's importance this season in that one interview gives me the impression that he's talking about much more than just 101/109. But that's the least solid evidence I have, that's just mostly based on vibes I get.

So basically, I think a lot of factors -- the unusual episode count, how close the anime is to catching up to the manga with three whole episodes left, the seemingly arbitrary recent chapter lengths, and the climactic events of 109 -- can tell us that 110 might be a very, VERY big deal. Again, there's of course no way this arc is anywhere near close to being finished, with so much left to address and resolve, but since it is currently incomplete in the manga, unlike the previously adapted arcs, if the anime was going to adapt it at all, they'd have to find a place that feels satisfying enough to end this season, knowing there won't be more anime for a long time after this, and so I think they specifically planned for that, from both Bones' and A/H's sides. 10 episodes might not have been enough to reach that point, but 12 or 13 might have been too many it wouldn't have been if Bones actually decided to slow down and let the story breathe the way it needs to, but this post isn't meant to criticize the anime, so maybe 11 was just right. And maybe Asagiri and Harukawa specifically pushed to make recent chapters longer than usual, in order to make sure that the manga reached the story content in 110 the monthly release right before season 5 was to end.

Is this just copium? Absolutely. Am I going to look like an absolute clown in two days when this post ages like milk? Probably. But the evidence is There, so let me just enjoy my delusions until Sunday, okay 🥂🫡

#bungou stray dogs #seriously call me a clown and point and laugh at me if I'm proven wrong all you want #but I really feel like there's solid evidence for this #either s5 isn't gonna reach 109 at all (but I seriously cannot fathom where you would want to stop before then) or they'll go beyond it #if they really do end it with 109....... well i'll give Bones kudos for having the balls to do that ig lol #maybe i'm underestimating (overestimating???) them idk #also just to clarify I don't wanna make it sound like I think Asagiri let the anime/Bones dictate the manga's pacing #like I'm sure these were his/their (him and Harukawa's) own decisions first and foremost #not that (if this theory is true) the anime had a major impact on how the chapters were split and that it-#-would have been extremely different otherwise #i'm pretty confident in that Asagiri does not do anything with BSD he isn't comfortable with #and he doesn't let anyone tell him how to write his story #I just feel like he worked with Bones to make this near-simultaneous release happen #BUT if this is the case I don't feel like it had any major effect on the writing/final product that is the manga #like the last handful of chapters have been so incredible #so I at least am still perfectly happy lol #(i mean i'm devastated and a nervous wreck but u know 🫡 in a good way lmao)#anyway 110 in two days please let this theory be true because I need some fucking hope already #please let Oda show up as Dazai's guardian angel to help (see what I did there-)#it would be the perfect way to end the collective season that is 4/5 with s4 beginning with Oda and now ending with Oda #Asagiri are you reading me are you picking up what I'm putting down please please a ghost Oda is long overdue please-#Oda Verlaine Adam just GIVE ME SOMEONE ALREADY 😭😭😭#MAYBE EVEN A TASTE OF THE FYODOR BACKSTORY TO TIE INTO HIM BEING IN ANIME UNTOLD ORIGINS. THE POSSIBILITIES ARE ENDLESS

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galadrieljones · 12 days ago

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It speaks volumes when Lavellan calls Solas a "terrible liar" in the Cobbled Swan. Rook is, of course, confused by this. "He's the god of lies," she says. But Lavellan clarifies, because that's not what she means. She means that he can't tell "lies of the heart." That is why he had to turn her away, because he actually could not deceive her.

Varric, very early in the game, also refers to Solas as "sentimental." He says to Rook, "He could burn the world down, and the thing that would make him cry is a single flower with blackened petals."

There's something very interesting about the elven god of lies and deceit, who unwillingly wears his heart on his sleeve, essentially creating a new version of the world in which all sources of raw, magical *emotion* that, according to him, used to imbue it with so much life and beauty have been compartmentalized from the more brutish, harsh aspects of the physical world. Because he, himself, has had to do this very thing to his own heart. He's "split." A very cool archetype. When he tells the Inquisitor to "harden her heart to a cutting edge" in Inquisition, he is projecting. Solas has built a "veil" within himself, to protect his more stern, militaristic identity as The Dread Wolf from the effusive, soft, and intelligent man that is Solas. It's the only way he can get anything done. Perhaps we should more aptly call him the god of stoicism and compartmentalization.

It's also interesting how well characters like Varric seem to know Solas, because it communicates that Solas did open up to the people of the Inquisition, during which time he "played the role" of quiet, unassuming Fade mage. Perhaps this wasn't a role at all, however, and perhaps this is why he is failing so spectacularly now. Who he really is is just this man who fell in love and made friends and found a home within a community where he did not have to cut off his emotions in order to lead. This was the "breach" in his plans, so to speak. It tore his world apart.

The whole story of Veilguard actually starts because Varric knows he can appeal to Solas's emotions and that this has a high chance of working to some degree. It's important to remember that while Varric didn't change Solas's mind at the ritual site, he was able to keep Solas talking long enough for Rook to sabotage his plans. Solas entertains Varric's pleas, because, sort of as Rook guesses with Lavellan at the Cobbled Swan, in some ways, Solas wants to be stopped. He wants someone to pull the reins on him because he is too prideful to stop himself.

Thinking back to Trespasser, I remember we all sort of knew this right away just in reading his body language. I remember someone making a whole post about it, and how he will not allow her to get too close to him. When she approaches, he takes a very measured step back. And later, as he takes the anchor, a task which requires him to take her hand, we see exactly why this is. He breaks down, calls her his "love," and kisses her. He is so stern and so measured and in "control," but then, all it takes is a single touch from the woman to whom he showed a glimpse of his true heart, his true self, to bring him to his knees.

The Veil as a narrative manifestation for how Solas tends to seal his own raw emotions away from others in order to function as the revolutionary general he had to be for centuries is a very beautiful construct to me.

#datv #dragon age: the veilguard #solas #solavellan #datv spoilers #veilguard spoilers

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mrsfancyferrari · 4 months ago

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Timeless Desire

Summary: You had always been Mercedes fan since you were young and it didn't change when you became Max's best friend. Based on British Grand Prix.

Song: Me and Your Mama - Childish Gambino

Author’s note: I can't write short stories to save my life. I hope you enjoy this long journey which may take a full day to read. Please like, reblog and share this! <33

Word count: 12.6k

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You had always been a Mercedes fan since you were young, and it hadn't changed when you became Max Verstappen's best friend. The British Grand Prix had always been a special occasion for you, being a Brit yourself.

This time, however, you decided to wear your signed Mercedes shirt to the paddock, attracting a lot of attention.

As you walked into the paddock, you could feel the eyes of the public on you, a mix of curiosity and admiration. The atmosphere was electric, with fans and team members bustling around, preparing for the big race.

You caught a few whispers and nods of recognition, some even pointing at your shirt with approving smiles. It felt surreal to be in the midst of such excitement, wearing the symbol of your childhood dreams.

Max spotted you from across the paddock and made his way over, a grin spreading across his face as he saw the shirt. "Are you ready for me to win again?" he said with a wink, clapping you on the back.

"Not in a million years Maxie," You replied, nudging your shoulders to his.

Being here, surrounded by the roar of the engines and the energy of the fans, you couldn't help but feel a deep sense of belonging.

You followed Max to the Red Bull garage, your Mercedes shirt still drawing a few curious stares from the Red Bull staff. Most of them were used to seeing you around, though, and had long accepted your unwavering loyalty to Mercedes.

The mechanics were busy fine-tuning Max's car, their focus undeterred by your presence. As you stood there, you could feel the palpable tension and anticipation in the air, a reminder of how high the stakes were for everyone involved.

Max chatted with his engineers, occasionally glancing back at you with a playful smirk. You knew he thrived on the friendly rivalry between the two of you. Despite the different team colors, the camaraderie and mutual respect you shared with Max and the Red Bull crew were undeniable.

It was moments like these that made you appreciate the sport even more, knowing that beneath the fierce competition, there was a deep bond that transcended team allegiances.

As Max was engrossed in a conversation with his team, you decided to take advantage of the moment and slip away for a while.

You couldn't miss out on the chance to connect with other like-minded individuals. The other wives of girlfriends of the drivers welcomed you into their circle.

"So what's the story behind the Mercedes shirt?" Rebecca asked curiously.

"Oh I'm just a big fan of Mercedes, especially Lewis Hamilton," you explained with a smile.

"While dating Max Verstappen? That must be hard to do," Lily Muni commented.

You blushed, taken aback by her comment. "Oh, no, Max and I are just friends," you quickly clarified, feeling a bit flustered.

Rebecca and Lily exchanged glances, clearly still intrigued, but they let the subject drop as the conversation shifted to other topics.

In your thoughts, you couldn't help but replay Lily's comment. The idea of dating Max had never crossed your mind in a serious way; your bond was built on years of shared experiences and a mutual love for racing.

Yet, the notion lingered, making you question if perhaps there was more beneath the surface of your friendship.

You had such strong feelings for Max, but you were terrified of rejection.

He's the 3-time world champion, a true legend of the sport. How could someone like you ever have a chance with someone as incredible as him? He's so talented, so successful, and you were just an ordinary person. The thought of opening your heart to him only to be turned away is enough to fill you with dread.

Part of you wishes you could just ignore these feelings, but they're impossible to deny. Every time you see him race, your heart skips a beat.

He's so captivating, so mesmerizing. You know deep down that you two could be amazing together, but the risk of rejection is too much to bear. You’d have to be content admiring him from afar, as much as that pains you. He's simply out of your league.

You had to rush back to the Red Bull garage to give Max at least some of your good luck while the rest was left for the Mercedes drivers.

You gave him a quick hug and told him, "Go easy on them will you?"

Max smirked and said, "Never in a million years."

You watched as Max got into his race car and drove off to the starting line. The atmosphere was electric, with the roar of the engines and the cheers of the crowd filling the air.

You then made your way over to the area where the celebrities were gathered, eager to catch a glimpse of the famous faces. As you mingled with the crowd, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement.

Whenever George, Lando or Hamilton were out on the track, you joined the throngs of fans in cheering them on, your voice adding to the cacophony of support that echoed through the circuit.

Jenson Button approached me, eager to know whom I was supporting at the British Grand Prix. "Excuse me, Y/N L/N. Can I have a moment of your time for a small interview?" he asked politely.

“Sure, I don’t mind!” You yelled over to the cars that had passed by where you were with speed for overtaking each other.

"I noticed you seem quite invested in the race today. Who are you rooting for?" He asked.

You turned to face the legendary Formula One driver, a smile spreading across your face. "Well, Jenson, I've always been a fan of Lewis Hamilton. The way he navigates those tight corners and pushes the limits of his car is truly inspiring. But I have to say, I'm also keeping a close eye on George Russell. He's been putting in some remarkable performances lately, and I wouldn't be surprised to see him on the podium today."

Jenson nodded thoughtfully, his eyes gleaming with interest. "Ah, yes, George did get podium in Austria. It's been great to see him come into his own this season. And of course, Lewis is always a force to be reckoned with on his home turf."

He paused, then leaned in conspiratorially. "Tell me, who do you think has the best chance of taking the chequered flag on Sunday?"

You turned around, revealing the word "Lewis Hamilton" written on your shirt in bold, striking letters. "I guess my shirt says it all," you laughed.

"Lewis has an incredible track record here at Silverstone, and I believe his experience and skill will give him the edge this weekend. But honestly, in racing, anything can happen, and that's what makes it so thrilling."

Jenson grinned, clearly amused by your enthusiasm. "Well, it looks like you're all set for a fantastic race day. Enjoy the rest of the Grand Prix, and may the best driver win!"

With that, he gave you a friendly nod and moved on to the next eager fan. You turned back to the track, heart pounding with anticipation, ready to cheer on your favorites as they battled it out on one of the most iconic circuits in the world.

Not long after Jenson moved on, you spotted Max Verstappen exiting his car after the first practice session. He looked focused but relaxed, a small smile playing on his lips as he made his way toward the garage.

Seizing the opportunity, you approached him. "Max, you were incredible out there! How are you feeling about the car's performance today?" you asked.

Max turned to you, his eyes bright with determination. "Thanks! The car felt really good, especially through the high-speed corners. We've made a few tweaks since the last race, and it seems to be paying off," he said with a nod.

"But there's still a lot of work to do, and we need to make sure everything's perfect for qualifying tomorrow." His gaze shifted back to the track, the competitive fire clearly evident.

"That's great to hear," you replied, excitement evident in your voice. "I'm sure you and the team will nail it. Best of luck for the qualifying session—I'll be rooting for you!"

Max chuckled, his grin widening. "I know you're actually rooting for Lewis, so don't try and convince me," he said, playfully pointing at your shirt before walking back to his team.

You chuckled, caught off guard by his playful comment, but you couldn't help but admire his confidence. As he disappeared into the garage, you turned your attention back to the track, eager for the next glimpse of racing action.

Realizing this was the perfect moment to engage with your followers, you quickly pulled out your phone and started a video.

"Hey everyone, I'm here at Silverstone, and it's absolutely electric! I just had an amazing chat with Max Verstappen, who seems really confident about the car's performance today."

With the camera still rolling, you began to walk around the paddock, capturing the vibrant atmosphere. "Look at this crowd! The energy here is just unbelievable. Stay tuned, because I'll be sharing more exclusive content, interviews, and updates throughout the Grand Prix. Make sure to follow and hit that notification bell so you don't miss a thing!"

You ended the video with a smile, feeling thrilled to share this unforgettable experience with your followers.

The paddock buzzed with activity, mechanics tirelessly working on cars while the air was filled with the sound of revving engines and excited chatter. Colorful team banners and flags fluttered in the breeze, adding to the vibrant spectacle.

The aroma of fuel and tire rubber mingled with the scent of freshly brewed coffee from nearby stalls, creating an intoxicating blend that awakens all your senses.

You decided to wander around the paddock until the second practice session started, eager to soak in every bit of the atmosphere. As you strolled past the various team garages, you couldn't help but marvel at the precision and dedication of the crew members.

Each mechanic moved with purpose, their focus unwavering as they fine-tuned the cars for optimal performance. The occasional cheer erupted from fans who managed to catch a glimpse of their favorite drivers, adding to the palpable excitement in the air.

Pausing at a merchandise stall, you took a moment to browse through the array of team hats, shirts, and memorabilia. The vendor’s enthusiastic pitch and the sight of fans proudly donning their favorite team's colors made you smile.

With a new Mercedes cap in hand, you continued your exploration, eventually finding a spot near the track with a clear view of the action.

Settling in, you glanced at your watch, counting down the minutes until the second practice session began, anticipation building with every passing second. . . . .

The second practice session had come to an exhilarating end, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of pride as the leaderboard displayed Lando Norris’s name at the top. Seeing a Brit in first place put a broad smile on your face, a sentiment echoed by the cheers of the crowd around you.

The young driver's impressive performance had not only captured the hearts of the local fans but also ignited a sense of optimism for the upcoming race.

As the teams began to pack up their equipment and the drivers headed back to their motorhomes, you reflected on the day's events. The energy, the passion, and the sheer love for the sport were palpable, making you even more excited for what lay ahead.

You knew Max Verstappen wasn’t thrilled with his results today; the frustration was evident in his body language as he walked past the garage. Deciding it was best to give him some space, you chose to head back to your apartment on your own.

The cool evening breeze accompanied you as you made your way through the bustling streets, the excitement of the new day still lingering in the air.

Back at the apartment, you kicked off your shoes and sank into the couch, the day’s events replaying in your mind. The roar of the engines, the fervor of the crowd, and the sheer thrill of the race had left an indelible mark on you.

Your mind drifted back to the moment you saw Max Verstappen walk past the garage. His usually composed demeanor was replaced with visible frustration; sweat clung to his brow and his hair was tousled, a stark contrast to his usual neat appearance.

You couldn't help but feel a pang of empathy for him. Racing was as much a mental game as it was a physical one, and today had clearly taken its toll on him.

As you sank deeper into the couch, you recalled the intensity in Max's eyes, the way he seemed to carry the weight of the team's expectations on his shoulders. It wasn't just about winning; it was about pride, about proving himself in the face of fierce competition.

His messy hair and worn-out look were a testament to the effort he poured into every lap.

You found yourself silently rooting for him, hoping that tomorrow would bring him better results and the sense of accomplishment he so clearly desired.

Just as you were deep in thought about Max, your phone buzzed, pulling you back to the present. Glancing at the screen, you saw his name flash across it.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say, but quickly answered.

"Hey," you said softly, trying to gauge his mood.

"Hey," he replied, his voice tinged with exhaustion. "I just... I needed to talk to someone. It's been a rough day."

You could hear the weariness in his voice, the frustration still lingering. "Of course, Max," you responded, your tone gentle and supportive. "Today was tough, but you're an incredible driver. You've got what it takes to bounce back."

There was a brief pause before he spoke again, "Thanks. I just needed to hear that. Tomorrow’s a new day, right?"

You smiled, "Absolutely. Get some rest, and let's see you take on the track with that unstoppable spirit of yours."

"Thanks, I'll come pick you up in the morning at the same time as today, is that alright?" Max asked, his voice sounding a bit lighter now.

"That sounds perfect," you replied, relieved to hear a hint of optimism returning to his tone. "Get some rest, Max. Tomorrow's another chance to shine."

After ending the call, you set your phone down and took a deep breath, feeling a mix of concern and hope for Max.

You decided to make yourself a cup of tea, hoping the warmth would help settle your thoughts. As you sipped the soothing drink, you couldn't help but replay the conversation in your mind.

As you sipped the soothing drink, you couldn't help but replay the conversation in your mind. The warmth in Max's voice was something rare, a side of him that few got to witness.

It stirred something deep within you, a flutter of butterflies in your stomach at the thought. Despite his usual stoic demeanor, tonight he had reached out to you, revealing a vulnerability that made you feel closer to him than ever before.

You let the warmth of the tea seep into you, calming your nerves while your thoughts raced. The connection you felt with Max tonight was undeniable, and it left you wondering about the deeper layers of his character.

Tomorrow, when he picked you up, you hoped to see that same spark of warmth in his eyes, a sign that he was ready to face the challenges ahead with renewed vigor.

Until then, you allowed yourself to bask in the glow of this newfound closeness, feeling a sense of hope and anticipation for the days to come. . . .

The next day arrived faster than you had anticipated, and before you knew it, the alarm was blaring in your ear. Groggy and disoriented, you realized with a start that you had overslept.

Panic set in as you hurriedly got ready, grabbing another Lewis Hamilton shirt and a Mercedes hat for some much-needed shade. You barely had time to brush your hair before Max would be at your doorstep.

You quickly brushed your teeth, splashed some water on your face, and dashed out the door, your heart pounding not just from the hurry but from the anticipation of seeing him again.

Rushing down the stairs, you hoped that your tardiness wouldn't dampen Max’s newly found optimism. As you stepped outside, you saw his car approaching, and a wave of relief washed over you.

The moment you climbed into the car, Max greeted you with a smile that was both reassuring and genuine. "Ready for today?" he asked, and you couldn’t help but feel that, despite the rocky start, everything was going to be just fine.

"Absolutely," you replied with a grin, trying to mask the flutter of nerves still lingering from your rushed morning. "Let's make it a great day."

Max's smile widened, and you felt a surge of confidence as the car pulled away from the curb, setting the course for whatever lay ahead.

The both of you arrived at the paddock at the usual time, the familiar hum of activity already filling the air. Mechanics were bustling about, engineers deep in conversation, and the distinctive scent of fuel and rubber permeated the space.

You used your paddock pass to enter the gate, feeling a sense of belonging as you navigated through the organized chaos. Max walked beside you, his presence steady and comforting.

As you approached the garage, you couldn’t help but notice the way the team members greeted Max with a newfound respect. It was as if the previous night's vulnerability had transformed him in their eyes as well.

He exchanged quick words with the crew, his tone confident and determined. You caught his eye, and he flashed you a quick, reassuring smile.

Since there was still time before the third practice race, you and Max decided to walk around the paddock. The bustling atmosphere of the Formula One paddock was electric, with teams of engineers and mechanics scurrying about, fine-tuning their cars for the upcoming sessions.

As you and Max strolled through the maze of garages, you couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation. The sights and sounds of the sport you both loved so dearly were all around you, and you knew that the real action was just moments away.

The two of you exchanged excited glances, each of you eager to see what the day had in store.

Then in the distance, you saw Lewis Hamilton getting interviewed by Jenson Button and other journalists. Hamilton's outfit exuded a sense of style and sophistication that perfectly complemented his status as a Formula One superstar.

Dressed in a tailored charcoal grey suit, Hamilton looked sharp and modern. The slim-fit jacket accentuated his athletic build, while the crisp white shirt and slim-cut trousers gave him a polished, contemporary look. Finishing off the ensemble were a pair of sleek black leather dress shoes, lending an air of elegance to his overall appearance.

Hamilton's fashion choices demonstrated his keen eye for detail and his ability to effortlessly blend high performance sportswear with high-end formal attire, solidifying his reputation as one of the most stylish personalities in the world of motorsports.

Jenson and Lewis paused their conversation as their eyes fell upon you and Max. Their faces lit up with genuine smiles, and Jenson waved enthusiastically, beckoning you over. The camera crew shifted slightly to accommodate the new dynamic, capturing the camaraderie between the drivers.

"Hey, you two!" Jenson called out. "Come join us for a bit!" The invitation was casual yet filled with warmth, a testament to the close-knit community within the paddock.

"Are you coming?" you whispered to Max and he shook his head, understanding completely.

It would be too early in the morning for him to be hammered with questions with the 7th World Champion.

You made your way over, exchanging nods and greetings with the crew along the way.

As you joined the small circle, Lewis extended his arms for a friendly hug. The warmth of his embrace was a welcome respite from the chill of the evening air, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging in that moment.

His firm yet gentle grip conveyed a genuine affection that put you at ease, reminding you of the strong bond you shared.

The hug lasted just long enough to feel comforting, without becoming overbearing. As you pulled away, you caught a glimpse of the genuine smile that spread across Lewis' face, his eyes twinkling with genuine delight at your arrival.

"Good to see you again Y/N," he said, his voice carrying the same charm as his attire.

"Same to you Lewis," you replied with a grin on your face after meeting your idol.

You two have met before and every time Max would be with you but he would let you speak for the both of you.

"You know, we've seen some viral rumors going around about the two of you," Jenson stated, his tone playful yet curious. "Your faces look very similar," he added, prompting nods of agreement from the surrounding interviewers.

You chuckled, glancing over at Lewis, who seemed equally amused. "Yeah, I've heard that one before," Lewis said with a grin. "People always think we're related or something."

"I would be lucky to have you as my dad," you replied, your tone light-hearted but sincere. The surrounding crew chuckled, and Lewis laughed warmly, patting you on the back.

"Well, if I had a kid as cool as you, I'd be the lucky one," he responded, his eyes sparkling with genuine affection.

"You know, I was in high school when you won your first world championship," you said, reminiscing about the early days of his career. Lewis raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised.

Lewis chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "Oh, come on now, Y/N. That makes me feel ancient," he replied, still grinning.

Jenson joined in, adding, "Well, there's no denying the resemblance. Maybe you two should do a DNA test just for fun." The suggestion elicited more laughter, and you shrugged, playing along.

"Who knows, maybe we’ll find out we’re long-lost family," you joked, feeling the camaraderie and light-heartedness of the moment.

Jenson leaned in, clearly enjoying the banter. "So, Y/N, any plans to follow in our footsteps and join the racing world?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

You shrugged with a smile, "Who knows? Maybe one day. For now, I'm just enjoying the ride and learning from the best."

Lewis smiled warmly before patting your shoulder. "That's the spirit, Y/N. Keep learning and who knows where you'll end up," he encouraged.

The crew continued to chat and laugh, the atmosphere buzzing with energy and camaraderie.

Jenson looked back at Max, who was still waiting patiently. "Let's not keep Max Verstappen waiting any longer and let you go," he said with a grin. "But before you leave, who are you rooting for to win on Sunday?"

You grinned and turned to the camera, proudly showing off your shirt which had Lewis Hamilton's name and number emblazoned on it.

"Of course, for my favorite driver, Lewis Hamilton," you declared with enthusiasm. The crew erupted in cheers and applause, clearly appreciating your loyalty.

Lewis laughed heartily, shaking his head. "Well, it's good to know I've got such a dedicated fan in you, Y/N," he said, his eyes twinkling with gratitude. "Just make sure you keep cheering loudly; I might need that extra bit of support on Sunday."

You nodded eagerly, feeling the warmth of the moment as Jenson wrapped up the interview.

When he unexpectedly reached out and signed your Mercedes cap and shirt, you were utterly starstruck and overcome with a profound sense of awe.

The surreal experience of having the coveted autograph of your revered idol permanently emblazoned upon your personal item is a feeling that will undoubtedly be etched into your memory, to be cherished and fondly recalled for years to come.

This tangible connection to your admired public figure has elevated the cap and the shirt from a mere article of clothing into a prized possession, imbued with deep personal significance that will serve as a lasting reminder of this incredible, once-in-a-lifetime moment.

"Thank you guys for making me meet my dad," you joked as you handed your microphone to a staff member. The crew burst into laughter, and even Lewis couldn't help but chuckle at your playful remark.

"Good luck, Dad!" you said as you walked away from the group, grinning from ear to ear. The crew's laughter continued to echo behind you, and Lewis gave a final wave, still smiling at your endearing humor.

"Thanks, kid," Lewis said back, still smiling warmly. You felt a rush of pride as you walked away, knowing that this incredible moment would stay with you forever. The excitement of the day left you feeling like you were walking on air, already anticipating the thrilling race ahead.

Max then joined you halfway as you two walked together behind the group. "That was quite the interaction," he remarked, glancing at the freshly signed cap in your hands. "I think you just made everyone in the crew a little jealous."

You chuckled, still riding the high of the unforgettable experience. "It feels like a dream. I mean, meeting Lewis Hamilton and getting his autograph? It's surreal," you replied, your voice bubbling with excitement.

Max raised an eyebrow playfully, “Would you be this excited if I gave you a signed Red Bull hat?”

You laughed, glancing at him, “Of course, Max! But you know, nothing beats meeting your hero.”

Max smirked, shaking his head with a mock sigh, “Guess I’ll have to step up my game then.”

"Well, Max, you'll have to start by winning a few more championships," you teased, nudging him lightly. He laughed, playfully rolling his eyes.

"But seriously, Max, you're my second hero too," you admitted with a grin, making him laugh and shake his head.

As you both entered the Red Bull garage, the familiar hum of activity and the scent of burning rubber welcomed you, amplifying your anticipation for the race ahead.

"These are the only times I've actually seen Max laugh this week," Jenson commented, overhearing the lighthearted exchange.

Lewis smiled warmly at the remark, clearly pleased to see such camaraderie. "Well, it looks like she's got the magic touch on Max," Lewis said, giving you a nod of approval.

Jenson chuckled, nodding in agreement. "It's true, she's got a way of bringing out the best in all of us," he remarked, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Maybe we should keep her around for good luck," he added, glancing at Lewis with a grin. . . .

The results from the third practice session of the British Grand Prix left you utterly astonished. The top three positions were dominated by British drivers: Lewis Hamilton, Lando Norris, and George Russell.

The roar of the crowd was deafening as the names flashed up on the leaderboard, and you could feel the electricity in the air. The excitement was palpable, and the entire paddock buzzed with a mix of admiration and determination.

As you and Alexandra absorbed the results, you couldn't help but feel a surge of national pride mixed with the competitive spirit that coursed through the paddock.

"Three Brits at the top—who would've thought?" Alex mused, glancing at the screen.

"It's going to be one heck of a race," you replied, a grin spreading across your face.

The anticipation for Sunday's race grew stronger, knowing that this unexpected turn of events had set the stage for an epic showdown on the Silverstone circuit.

As the final practice session concluded, you made your way back to the garage, where Max was already debriefing with his engineers. His expression was a mix of frustration and determination, clearly unsatisfied with his fourth-place finish.

You could sense the tension in the air as he ran a hand through his hair, listening intently to the feedback. "Fourth place again," he muttered under his breath, his jaw clenched.

You approached him carefully, offering a supportive smile. "Hey, Max, don't be too hard on yourself. The race is still ahead, and anything can happen," you reassured him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He looked up, his eyes softening slightly. "I know, but it's just frustrating," he admitted, exhaling deeply.

"We'll figure it out," you replied confidently. "You've got the skills and the team behind you—we'll get there."

Max’s shoulders relaxed slightly at your words, the tension in his posture easing. Without warning, he pulled you into a big, tight hug, a gesture of gratitude and camaraderie.

"Thanks," he whispered into your shoulder, his voice barely audible over the buzz of the garage. "I needed that."

You patted his back reassuringly, feeling the weight of his determination and the pressure he was under.

As he released you, he took a step back, his expression a bit lighter. "Alright, let me get to work before I get yelled at by the team," he joked, a renewed spark in his eyes.

You nodded, feeling a surge of optimism before letting him go. As Max turned back to his engineers, you couldn't help but admire his resilience and dedication. The garage was a hive of activity, the mechanics and engineers working tirelessly to fine-tune every detail for the upcoming race.

You knew that this was just the beginning, and that every effort counted towards the ultimate goal. The camaraderie and mutual support within the team were palpable, and it gave you confidence that they could overcome any obstacles.

Walking over to the pit wall, you glanced at the data screens, absorbing the information from the final practice session. The numbers told a story of fierce competition and the relentless pursuit of perfection.

As you watched the team dive into their preparations, you felt a sense of unity and purpose that transcended individual ambitions. The Silverstone circuit awaited, and with the collective strength and determination of the team, you believed they were ready to face whatever challenges came their way.

With the support of his team and the undeniable talent that Max possessed, you knew that the upcoming race would be anything but predictable.

Knowing that Max would likely pull an all-nighter to ensure everything was perfect, you decided to embrace a rare moment of relaxation and joined the girls for a much-needed night out.

The energy of the city was a stark contrast to the focused intensity of the garage, and you relished the chance to unwind and recharge. Laughter and conversation flowed freely as you and the girls caught up over dinner, sharing stories and enjoying each other's company.

"Lily, you should have seen Max today," you said, taking a sip of your drink. "He was so stressed but still managed to joke around. It's like he's made of steel."

Alexandra laughed, "You and Max, honestly, it's like watching a married couple. The way you two support each other is incredible."

Rebecca chimed in, "You both have that unspoken understanding. It's rare to see such a strong bond. Do you ever think about what it would be like if you two were actually together?"

You smiled, shaking your head. "Max and I are just really good friends. We've been through so much together, and I wouldn't trade that for anything."

As the evening progressed, Lily leaned in with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "So, how are things going with Max? Seriously, the way you two finish each other's sentences is uncanny," she teased, nudging Alexandra.

Alexandra and Rebecca chuckled in agreement. "Yeah, it's like you guys have this secret language," Rebecca added, taking a sip of her wine.

You laughed, feeling a warm blush creep up your cheeks. "I think that just happens when you're good friends with someone," you protested lightly. "But honestly, I think it's just because we've been through so much together with the team. It's hard not to get close when you're in the thick of it all."

The girls exchanged knowing glances, their smiles widening.

As the night progressed, you felt the stress and tension of the past weeks melt away. Dancing under the colorful lights of the club, you allowed yourself to be fully present in the moment, soaking in the joy and camaraderie of your friends.

Though your mind occasionally drifted back to the team and the upcoming race, you knew that moments like these were essential for maintaining balance and perspective.

The music in the club was a pulsating mix of deep bass and energetic beats, creating an infectious rhythm that made it impossible to stay still.

The DJ seamlessly blended popular hits with classic dance anthems, keeping the energy high and the dance floor packed. Every now and then, a familiar tune would spark cheers from the crowd, adding to the electric atmosphere of the night.

You tried to forget about tomorrow by dancing your heart out, losing yourself in the music and the laughter of your friends.

Each beat seemed to sync with your heartbeat, pushing away the lingering worries and stress about the upcoming race. The colored lights flashed around you, casting a vibrant glow on the faces of those you loved most.

Alexandra pulled you into a carefree spin, her laughter ringing out like a melody of its own, while Rebecca's enthusiastic dance moves encouraged everyone around her to join in the fun.

As the night wore on, you felt a sense of liberation, a temporary escape from the pressures that awaited you in the morning. The music, the lights, and the camaraderie wrapped around you like a comforting embrace.

You danced until your feet ached and your lungs burned from breathless laughter. In those precious hours, you allowed yourself to be free, knowing that the memories you were creating would fortify you for the challenges ahead. . . .

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As you left the bathroom, a guy approached you with a confident smirk. "Hey there, having a good time?" he asked, stepping into your path.

You quickly pulled out your phone, pretending to check messages, but he wasn't deterred. "Come on, don't be like that," he persisted, reaching out and snatching the phone from your hands.

"Hey, give that back!" you exclaimed, your voice rising above the music. His grin widened as he held your phone just out of reach.

"Relax, I just wanted to talk," he said, but you could see the mischief in his eyes.

"Look, I'm just here to enjoy the night with my friends," you said firmly, trying to keep your cool. "Can you please give me my phone back?"

He chuckled and shook his head, still holding the phone out of reach. "Only if you promise to dance with me for one song," he countered, his eyes sparkling with playful determination.

"Look, I'm not interested," you replied firmly, trying to keep your cool despite the growing frustration. "Just give me my phone back."

"Why so serious?" he teased, leaning in closer. "I promise, I'm not a bad guy."

Suddenly, a fist landed against the man's face, and he staggered backward, releasing your phone. You looked over to see Max standing in front of you, his eyes blazing with anger.

"Are you alright?" he asked, concern lacing his voice. Max was wearing a black leather jacket over a plain white t-shirt, his jeans slightly worn and his boots scuffed from countless adventures.

"Yeah, I'm fine now," you replied, clutching your phone tightly. The guy groaned, rubbing his jaw, but quickly decided to make himself scarce. "Thanks, Max. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't shown up."

Max shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "Don't mention it. No one messes with you." He glanced around, the lively atmosphere of the party resuming as if nothing had happened.

"Come on, let's get back to the others. I think Alexandra is about to challenge everyone to a dance-off."

Max had always been the one to look out for you, ever since you first met. His protective nature wasn't just about physical safety; it was about ensuring you felt secure and valued in every situation. Moments like these reminded you why you valued his friendship so deeply.

You smiled, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over you, before following Max over to where the girls were gathered. Alexandra was already hyping everyone up, her infectious energy drawing a crowd. The music thumped louder as she announced the start of the dance-off, and you couldn't help but get caught up in the excitement.

"Hey, you're just in time!" Alexandra called out, her voice filled with excitement. "We're about to start the dance-off, and I need my best dancer by my side." You laughed, feeling the tension from earlier melt away.

Max stayed close by your side, his reassuring presence a constant comfort. As the dance-off began, you found yourself laughing and cheering on your friends, the earlier tension quickly fading away.

You start to move your body to the rhythm of the music, swaying your hips and tapping your feet. The beat pulses through you, and you let it guide your movements, flowing from one step to the next with a natural fluidity.

As the tempo picks up, you pick up the pace, your limbs moving with increasing energy and precision. You twirl and spin, your arms outstretched, feeling the music coursing through every inch of your being.

The world around you fades away as you become lost in the dance, your only focus being the rhythm that compels you to keep moving.

The crowd's cheers grew louder, a wave of encouragement that fueled your every move. You could hear your friends shouting your name, their voices blending with the music and creating an intoxicating mix of sound and energy.

Every clap, every cheer, every shout of encouragement pushed you to dance harder, to lose yourself even more in the rhythm. It was a feeling of pure exhilaration, a moment where nothing else mattered but the beat and the joy of movement.

As you executed a particularly challenging spin, the crowd erupted in applause. You caught a glimpse of Max, his eyes filled with pride and approval, and it spurred you on even further.

Your feet barely touched the ground as you performed intricate steps, each one met with more cheers and applause.

Alexandra joined in, her movements mirroring yours in a dazzling display of synchronicity. Together, you owned the dance floor, the world outside the party forgotten as you reveled in the collective energy and sheer delight of the dance-off.

"Alright, I think it's time for us to go," Max muttered into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. You nodded, your body still buzzing from the adrenaline of the dance-off.

You said goodbye to the girls, their faces glowing with the same exhilaration that still coursed through your veins. They gave you knowing smiles, the kind that spoke of shared secrets and unforgettable moments.

"You were amazing out there," one of them said, pulling you into a quick hug. The others nodded in agreement, their eyes twinkling with pride and admiration.

It was a night that would be etched into your memories, a night where you felt truly alive and connected.

As you made your way through the crowd, you could feel the lingering energy of the night, the music and laughter still echoing in your ears.

"Did you have fun?" Max asked, his hand gently squeezing yours.

"Absolutely," you replied with a smile. "I needed this. Thanks for being here with me."

"Always," he said, his eyes twinkling with warmth. "Now let's get you home."

As you and Max made your way out of the venue, the cool night air hit your skin, a refreshing contrast to the heat and energy inside.

He led you to where his car was parked, a few blocks away from the lively venue. The city's lights shimmered around you, creating a magical ambiance that seemed to extend the evening's enchantment.

Max opened the passenger door for you, his gentlemanly gesture making you smile. As you settled into the seat, you took a deep breath, the cool night air filling your lungs and calming your racing heart.

Max slid into the driver's seat and started the engine, the soft hum of the car a soothing backdrop to your thoughts. The streets were quieter now, the hustle and bustle of the night giving way to a peaceful stillness.

As he drove, you glanced over at him, his profile illuminated by the passing streetlights.

A sense of gratitude washed over you, not just for the incredible night but for the unwavering presence of someone who understood you so deeply.

The road stretched ahead, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a sense of contentment and peace.

The cityscape gradually transitioned from the vibrant glow of downtown to the quieter, tree-lined neighborhoods.

Streetlights cast long shadows across the pavement, and the occasional passerby strolled under the canopy of autumn leaves. The serene streets, dotted with quaint shops and cafes, seemed to whisper stories of their own, adding to the magic of the night.

You didn’t hear when the car stopped or when Max got out of his seat to come to your side, but you felt a touch on your shoulder, gentle and reassuring.

"Hey," he said softly, "we're here." His voice pulled you out of your reverie, and you looked up to see him holding your door open, a kind smile on his face.

"Sorry, I must have zoned out," you said, stepping out of the car and into the crisp night air. Max chuckled, "No worries. It looks like tonight wore you out in the best way possible."

You nodded, feeling the warmth of his presence beside you. "It did. Thanks again, Max, for everything." He squeezed your hand gently, "Anytime. Let's get you inside and cozy."

As you walked towards your front door, the porch light casting a welcoming glow, you realized just how much nights like these meant to you.

You unlocked the door and Max and you walked inside. The house was quiet and peaceful, a welcome change from the hustle and bustle of the day. As you closed the door behind the both of you, you felt the tension in your shoulders start to melt away.

Max immediately made himself at home, bounding over to his favorite spot on the couch and curling up with a contented sigh. You couldn't help but smile as you watched him settle in, grateful for the simple joy of being back in your comfortable space.

You followed him and sat right beside him, cuddling him. Max laughs, "How much did you have to drink?"

"Not much, just tired now," you mumbled.

Your body felt heavy, and you couldn't resist the urge to snuggle up against Max. The warmth of his presence was comforting, and you felt a sense of safety and contentment in his company.

"Hey, you know, my friends have been asking me a lot lately about...well, about us. They keep wondering if we're, you know, actually just friends or if there's something more going on," you said, feeling a slight blush creep onto your cheeks.

He looked at you, a hint of surprise in his eyes. "Your friends, huh? What do you tell them?" he asked, his voice soft and curious.

You averted your gaze, suddenly finding the ground very interesting. "I...I tell them that we're just friends. But, I don't know, sometimes I wonder if they're right. I mean, are we really just friends?" you admitted, your heart racing.

He was silent for a moment, and you could feel the tension building between you two. "Well, I...I guess that's up to us to decide, isn't it?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You couldn't help but glance at him, your gaze involuntarily drawn to his captivating presence. His striking appearance and commanding aura made it nearly impossible to look away, even for a moment.

Your eyes met briefly, locking in a charged, fleeting connection that sent a flutter of shyness rippling through your chest.

Despite your best efforts to avert your eyes, you found yourself repeatedly drawn back to him, mesmerized by his alluring and magnetic persona.

"I notice you looking," he replied, his voice soft and teasing.

"I... I didn't mean to stare, I just..." Your words trailed off as you struggled to find the right thing to say.

He smiled reassuringly. "It's alright, I don't mind." There was a warmth in his tone that put you at ease. "I'm glad you can look at me."

You felt your cheeks grow warm, and you ducked your head, suddenly finding the floor very interesting. "I'm sorry, I... I'm not usually this shy," you stammered.

"No need to apologize," he said gently. "I find your shyness quite endearing. Your drunk side is definitely cuter,”

You felt your cheeks flush even deeper at his compliment, a mix of embarrassment and delight swirling within you. You managed a small, shy smile, peeking up at him through your lashes.

"Thanks, Max," you murmured, your heart fluttering at his words.

As you stood there, the silence between you two thickening, you heard Max mutter something under his breath. Though you couldn't catch everything, you distinctly heard the words, "you'll be the death of me."

You chose not to comment on it, unsure if you had heard correctly or if your mind was playing tricks on you. The air seemed to crackle with unspoken emotions, making your pulse quicken.

A moment later, Max took a deep breath and stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "You have no idea what you do to me," he said, his voice low and filled with intensity. The proximity of his presence made your heart race even faster, each beat echoing in your ears.

You could feel the weight of his words settling over you, making it clear that you were no longer just friends standing on the edge of something much deeper.

Deciding to be brave for once, you took a deep breath and met his gaze head-on. "Max, I... I think there's something more here than just friendship. Maybe we should talk about it, figure out what this really is," you said, your voice trembling slightly but steady enough to convey your sincerity.

He reached out, gently taking your hand in his, and the simple gesture sent a wave of warmth through you. "I've been wanting to talk about it too," he admitted, his eyes never leaving yours. "But you're too drunk to talk about it."

Max then stood up and said, "And it's past both our bedtime," he gave his hand out, "Do you need help?" You looked at his extended hand, hesitating for just a moment before placing your hand in his.

The warmth of his touch was comforting, and you nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "Yeah, I think I do," you replied softly, a small smile playing on your lips.

As he helped you to your feet, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of anticipation and nervousness about what the future held for the two of you. "We'll talk about this tomorrow, when we're both clear-headed," he promised, his eyes filled with a sincerity that made your heart flutter.

You nodded in agreement, feeling grateful for the moment of clarity.

"Goodnight, Max," you whispered.

"Goodnight," he replied, his voice gentle as he squeezed your hand one last time before letting go.

As you made your way to your room, your mind buzzed with a whirlwind of emotions. You felt a mix of excitement and anxiety, the weight of unspoken feelings finally acknowledged.

Lying in bed, you couldn't help but replay the night's events, wondering what tomorrow would bring for you and Max. . . . .

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The next morning, you woke up with a slight throbbing in your head, the kind that comes from having one too many drinks the night before. Groaning, you rubbed your temples and tried to piece together the fragments of last night.

Bits and pieces floated back to you—laughter, the warmth of Max's hand, and something about a conversation that felt important. But the details were fuzzy, like trying to remember a dream that was slipping away with each passing second.

As you stumbled into the kitchen for a glass of water, you found yourself wondering about the look in Max's eyes and the words he had said. The clarity from last night was now a blur, leaving you with a nagging sense that something significant had occurred.

You couldn't shake the feeling that today might bring some answers, and perhaps a chance to finally address the feelings that had been simmering just below the surface.

You decided to dress casually, slipping into another Mercedes shirt, this one adorned with a signature from Lewis Hamilton that you'd gotten a long time ago. The familiar fabric brought back memories of excitement and admiration, moments when you felt invincible.

Topping off your outfit with the same Mercedes hat from yesterday, you hoped the attire would give you a boost of confidence for whatever the day had in store.

As you made your way to the living room, you couldn't help but think about Max and the conversation from the night before. The anticipation of seeing him again made your heart race, and you hoped that today would bring some much-needed clarity.

With each step, you felt a mixture of hope and apprehension, but one thing was certain—you were ready to face whatever came next, no matter how daunting it seemed.

A gentle knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts, and your heart skipped a beat. Taking a deep breath, you walked over and opened it to find Max standing there, his familiar smile instantly putting you at ease.

"Hey," he greeted softly, his eyes searching yours as if trying to read your mind. The sight of him brought a rush of both relief and nervous energy, and you couldn't help but smile back.

"Hey, Max," you replied, stepping aside to let him in. As he entered, you both knew that the conversation from last night needed to be revisited, the unspoken feelings demanding attention.

Max glanced around your living room before turning to face you, his expression serious yet gentle. "You're a bit early today," you began, and he nodded.

"I just wanted to make sure you were good after yesterday," Max stated, concern evident in his voice. He took a cautious step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "Do you remember anything that happened?"

You shook your head, feeling a mix of frustration and embarrassment. "No, it's all a bit of a blur. I remember us talking, but the details are fuzzy. What did I say, Max?"

The uncertainty gnawed at you, and you could see Max weighing his words carefully.

He took a deep breath before replying, "We talked about a lot of things—your feelings, my feelings, and everything we've been holding back. I think it's important we address it now, while it's still fresh."

You glanced at the clock on the wall and your eyes widened in realization. "Max, if we start this conversation now, we're going to be late for work," you said, biting your lip. The weight of the moment was palpable, but the practical concern loomed large.

Max followed your gaze to the clock and sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"I know," he admitted reluctantly, "but we can't keep pushing this off. How about we talk after the race? We can't let this hang over us any longer."

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief that there was a plan in place. "Okay, after the race it is," you agreed, grabbing your keys and heading for the door.

Max smiled appreciatively, and together, you walked out, knowing that the conversation was merely postponed, not avoided.

You walked to his car, the tension between you both a silent passenger. The drive felt quick, a blur of city streets and morning light, the hum of the engine the only sound breaking the silence.

Max's hand occasionally brushed yours on the gear shift, each touch a reminder of the conversation that awaited. As the racetrack came into view, a sense of urgency replaced the earlier calm, the reality of the day ahead crashing down.

Before you could fully prepare yourself, you were swarmed by the paparazzi, their cameras flashing and questions flying. Max tightened his grip on your hand, guiding you through the chaos with a protective determination.

"Just stay close," he whispered, his voice a steady anchor in the storm. You nodded, squeezing his hand back, feeling a mix of gratitude and apprehension.

You two safely made it to the Red Bull garage, Max's annoyance palpable as he helped you regain your balance after tripping over a persistent paparazzo. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice tinged with frustration but softened by concern.

You nodded, brushing off the embarrassment as best you could, and took a deep breath to steady yourself. The bustling activity of the garage—mechanics fine-tuning cars, engineers analyzing data—provided a temporary distraction from the looming conversation.

Max's jaw tightened as he tried to shake off the earlier chaos. "Let's focus on the race for now," you said, your eyes scanning the garage for any more paparazzi. "You'll need all your concentration if you're going to pull this off."

You gave him a reassuring smile, determined to support him through the day.

The air buzzed with anticipation and energy, but despite the noise and activity, the unresolved emotions between you two lingered, a quiet storm waiting to be addressed.

"Max, you've got this," you said, giving him a quick, encouraging nod before stepping away. He returned the nod, his eyes briefly softening before hardening with focus.

You left Max to focus on his preparations, giving him a supportive pat on the back before making your way through the crowded garage.

Miraculously, you managed to avoid the paparazzi and found Alexandra near the hospitality area, her eyes lighting up as she saw you.

"Hey, Alex," you greeted her. Your voice was a mix of relief and anticipation.

"There you are," she said with a relieved smile. "I was starting to worry they'd swallow you whole!"

"I thought so too, I don't know why they acted like that," you said, shaking your head in disbelief.

"I think it was because of yesterday," Alexandra commented, her expression growing serious. "The rumors about you and Max really stirred things up."

"What rumors?" you asked, your heart skipping a beat.

Alexandra sighed, glancing around to ensure no one was eavesdropping. "There's talk that you and Max are more than just friends, and it's got everyone buzzing," she explained, her eyes filled with both concern and curiosity.

"They got a glimpse of you and Max leaving the club holding hands, so they just assumed you two were dating," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper.

Your cheeks flushed as the memories of the previous night flooded back, the moment innocent but easily misconstrued. "Great, just what we needed before the big race," you muttered, running a hand through your hair.

"Is it true?" Alexandra asked, her eyes searching yours for any hint of the truth. You hesitated, the weight of the question pressing down on you. "No, well... I don't think so,"

You stammered, feeling the heat rise to your face. "We're going to talk about it after the race. There's just too much going on right now to sort it out."

Alexandra nodded slowly, her expression a mix of understanding and concern. "I can see how things could get complicated," she murmured, glancing back towards the garage where Max was still preparing.

"Just make sure you both have a clear head for the race. The last thing you need is this drama distracting you."

You sighed, grateful for her support. "Thanks, Alex. We'll figure it out one way or another," you said, giving her a small, reassuring smile. "Right now, we need to focus on the task at hand."

Alexandra nodded, her face softening with understanding. "I get it. Just make sure you two sort it out. It’s important for both of your sakes, especially with so much at stake today."

She paused, then added, "And remember, I'm here if you need to talk or just need some support. We've got your back, no matter what."

"Thanks, Alex. That means a lot," you replied, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over you. You stepped forward and pulled her into a hug, needing the reassurance of a friend's support in this whirlwind of confusion.

She hugged you back tightly, whispering, "You've got this," before stepping back and giving you a determined look.

As you both pulled away, you glanced around the bustling garage, the sound of engines roaring and mechanics shouting orders filling the air. "Let's get through today first," you said, trying to infuse your voice with the confidence you didn't quite feel. "After the race, I'll sit down with Max and we'll clear everything up."

Alexandra gave you a firm nod, her eyes reflecting her belief in you. "Good. And remember, whatever happens, we're a team. We'll get through this together," she said, before turning back to her duties, leaving you with a renewed sense of determination.

You walked back into the Red Bull garage, weaving through the busy crew members and the organized chaos. Spotting Max near his car, you took a deep breath and approached him.

"Hey Max," you called out, trying to mask any lingering anxiety. He looked up from his preparations, his eyes meeting yours with a hint of curiosity and concern.

"Hey," he replied, looking away from his car to glance at you. "Everything is okay?"

You nodded, forcing a smile. "Yeah, just wanted to wish you good luck. Let's focus on the race and leave everything else for later."

Max's expression softened, and he gave you a reassuring nod. "Sounds like a plan. Thanks," he said, giving you a firm pat on the shoulder.

"Oh, I forgot to do something," Max said, grabbing something from the nearby table. You raised an eyebrow, unsure of what he was referring to.

Before you could ask, he reached over and took off your Mercedes hat, replacing it with a Red Bull one. "There," he said with a grin, "now you're properly dressed for the occasion."

You laughed, feeling some of the tension ease. "Thanks, Max. I guess I did need a little wardrobe adjustment," you replied, adjusting the new hat on your head. "Just remember, no matter what happens out there today, we're in this together."

Max nodded, his expression serious but supportive. "You're just saying that because you got 'adopted' by your idol," he teased, extending his hand for a firm handshake.

"Exactly! You'll have to call me Y/N Hamilton now," you smirked, joining in with the handshake.

Max chuckled, shaking his head. "Never in my life will I ever call you that Y/N, you know that already."

Just then, a crew member signaled to Max that it was time to get ready for the race. Max glanced at his watch and nodded, turning back to you with a determined look. "Alright, I have to go now. But remember, we'll talk after the race, okay?" he said, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

You nodded, feeling a mix of anticipation and support. "Good luck out there, Max. Give it your all," you urged, stepping back to let him head towards his car. Max flashed you a final grin before heading off, his focus shifting entirely to the task at hand.

As you watched him walk away, you couldn't help but feel a swell of pride and camaraderie. The roar of engines filled the air, signaling the start of an intense competition.

You took a deep breath, knowing that whatever the outcome, the bond you shared with Max and the team would only grow stronger.

Throughout the day, you mingled with the fans, soaking up the atmosphere and excitement. As the race began, you cheered for Hamilton, hoping for a victory for your home country.

The event kicked off with a thrilling qualifying session, where Lewis Hamilton and George Russell of Mercedes secured the top two positions, narrowly edging out the young sensation Lando Norris of McLaren. Max Verstappen qualified fourth, setting the stage for an intense battle at the front of the grid.

As the lights went out, Hamilton made a perfect start, maintaining his lead into the first corner. Norris and Verstappen engaged in a fierce fight for second place, with the Dutchman eventually managing to make a bold move and take the position.

The race was filled with intense on-track action, as the drivers pushed their cars to the limit on the iconic Silverstone circuit. Oscar and Carlos fought their way through the field, making impressive overtakes and fighting for a podium finish.

Hamilton managed to hold onto his lead, with Verstappen and Norris in close pursuit. The battle for victory came down to the final laps, with Verstappen making several attempts to pass Hamilton, but the British driver held firm, crossing the finish line to the delight of the passionate home crowd.

Lando Norris secured a well-deserved third-place finish, with Oscar and Sainz rounding out the top five.

You could feel the tension in the air as the race unfolded, every corner and straight away leaving you on the edge of your seat. When Lewis Hamilton crossed the finish line, you erupted in celebration with the rest of the fans, the atmosphere electric with joy and pride.

The victory felt like a triumph for everyone present, a testament to the dedication and skill of the entire team.

You were close by when Lewis got out of his car at the number 1 place and he jumped out to meet his parents. The emotion on his face was palpable as he embraced them, the crowd's cheers echoing in the background.

It was a moment of pure triumph and familial pride, one that you knew would be remembered for years to come.

Lewis then ran over to you and gave you the biggest hug, his joy radiating through the embrace. "We did it!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with triumph and gratitude.

You could hardly believe it, standing there in the midst of the celebration, feeling the warmth of his victory shared with you.

The crowd's cheers grew louder, a symphony of adoration for their champion, and you felt an overwhelming sense of connection to this incredible moment. As the noise of the crowd swirled around you, Lewis pulled back slightly, his eyes sparkling with unspoken emotion.

"Thank you for always believing in me kid," he said, his words sincere and heartfelt. The world seemed to fade away as you shared that instant, knowing that this victory was not just a win on the track, but a culmination of years of hard work, perseverance, and unwavering support.

"It was all you," you said, smiling through the tears that had begun to form in your eyes. Lewis shook his head, still beaming.

"No, this victory belongs to all of us," he replied, his voice steady and filled with gratitude.

Lewis then left you to go hug his team, the very people who had worked tirelessly behind the scenes to make this victory possible.

The mechanics, engineers, and strategists all gathered around him, their faces lit up with pride and relief.

Each hug and handshake was a testament to the unity and effort that had propelled them to this moment. The bond between the team members was evident, a shared understanding of the countless hours and challenges they had overcome together.

As Lewis made his way through the throng, he paused to exchange words of gratitude and congratulations with each person. The joy in the paddock was infectious, spreading like wildfire among everyone present.

The cameras flashed, capturing the raw, unfiltered emotions that painted this victorious scene. It was a reminder that while one man may stand on the podium, the triumph is always a collective achievement, built on the foundation of teamwork and mutual respect.

As you were cheering for Lewis, you didn't realize when Max got out of his car and walked over to you until he was standing in front of you, his helmet still on his head.

Startled, you looked up to see the intense gaze behind his visor, a mixture of disappointment and adrenaline in his eyes.

After he didn't move and all you could hear was his harsh breathing, you quickly helped him with taking off the helmet. As it came off, his face was a portrait of raw emotion—disappointment mingled with exhaustion, yet there was an unmistakable glint of respect in his eyes.

"You were incredible out there," you said softly, trying to bridge the gap between rival and friend. He nodded, his expression softening slightly as he took a deep breath. The tension slowly melting away from his shoulders.

He nodded before moving closer to you, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, "After this, be in my room." A shiver ran down your spine, the unexpected command sending a surge of adrenaline through your veins.

You couldn't help but feel the intensity of the moment, the lines between competition and something deeper blurring in the dimming light of the paddock.

You met his gaze, searching for any hint of jest, but all you found was a seriousness that made your heart race. "Max, what are you—" you began to ask, but he silenced you with a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head.

"Just be there," he insisted softly, his voice a mix of urgency and something else you couldn't quite place. With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.

You watched the podium ceremony unfold, the cheers of the crowd and the spray of champagne creating a festive atmosphere. Yet, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't shake Max's words from your mind.

His voice, that hint of something unspoken, echoed in your ears, overshadowing even the triumphant smiles of the winners. As the drivers celebrated, your thoughts kept drifting back to that moment, the weight of his command lingering heavily.

Back in the team garage, the clamor of post-race activities did little to diminish your inner turmoil. You replayed the scene over and over, analyzing every detail of his expression and tone.

What could he possibly want? Why the urgency?

As the minutes ticked by, you found yourself drawn inexorably towards his room, curiosity and anticipation intertwining in a complex dance. Your heart pounded in your chest as you approached the door, uncertainty mingling with a strange sense of inevitability.

As you walked, suddenly someone took your hand and pulled you into Max driver's room—it was Max. The door closed behind you with a soft click, and you found yourself standing inches from him, your breath catching in your throat.

His eyes were intense, a storm of emotions swirling within them that you couldn't quite decipher.

"I needed to talk to you alone," he said, his voice low and steady, a stark contrast to the chaos of your thoughts.

Before you could respond, he stepped closer, his presence enveloping you. "There's something I've wanted to say for a long time," he continued, his hand still gripping yours tightly. "But I didn't know how, or if it was the right time."

You could feel the weight of his words, each one laden with unspoken meaning. The intensity of the moment was almost overwhelming, and you knew that whatever he was about to reveal would change everything.

His eyes bore into yours, filled with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. "What is this about, Max?" you finally managed to ask, your voice barely a whisper.

He took a step closer, the space between you shrinking to nothing. "There's something I've been hiding, something I need to tell you before it goes any further."

His hand remained on yours, grounding you as the weight of his words settled in. You could feel the gravity of the moment, the potential for everything to change hanging in the air between you.

Max’s grip tightened slightly, as if drawing strength from your presence. "I’ve been battling with this for so long," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, "and I can't keep it to myself any longer. I’ve been feeling something more than just camaraderie between us. Every race, every strategy session, every moment we've spent together... it’s become clear to me that it’s more than just professional respect or friendship."

Your heart raced, your mind spinning with the implications of his confession. "Max, are you saying...?" you trailed off, unsure if you dared to hope for what his words might mean.

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours as he took another step closer, his free hand gently cupping your cheek.

"Yes," he said softly. "I’m saying that I’ve fallen for you. And I couldn’t go another day without telling you, without knowing if you might feel the same."

Your breath hitched at his confession, emotions swirling within you. "Max, I... I don't know what to say," you stammered, your heart pounding in your chest.

His gaze remained unwavering, filled with vulnerability and hope. "Just tell me how you feel," he urged gently, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

Tears welled in your eyes, a mix of relief and confusion. "I've been trying to convince myself it was just friendship," you admitted, your voice trembling. "But deep down, I've felt it too. I was just too scared to acknowledge it, afraid it would ruin everything."

Now that everything was out in the open, a sense of liberation washed over you. The weight of unspoken emotions lifted, replaced by a cautious but undeniable hope.

"But knowing you feel the same changes everything," you whispered, a tentative smile breaking through your tears.

Max's eyes lit up with a mixture of joy and relief, a broad smile spreading across his face. He pulled you into a gentle embrace, his arms wrapping around you as if he never wanted to let go.

"You have no idea how happy you've just made me," he murmured into your hair, his voice filled with an overwhelming sense of contentment.

He then pulled back to look at you, his eyes mostly glancing at your lips without any hesitation. The air between you crackled with a palpable intensity, a silent promise of something more.

His breath mingled with yours, creating a heady blend of anticipation and longing. "May I?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, seeking your consent with every fiber of his being.

You nodded, unable to find the words, your heart pounding in your chest. As his lips met yours, the world seemed to melt away, leaving only the two of you in a cocoon of shared emotions.

The kiss was tender yet filled with unspoken promises, a confirmation of the feelings you both had been harboring for so long. When you finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against yours, both of you catching your breath.

His eyes held a depth of emotion that took your breath away, shimmering with love, relief, and an unspoken promise of a future together. A gentle smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his gaze soft yet intense, as if memorizing every detail of your face.

"Love you," you whispered without thinking, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

For a moment, you worried you had said too much too soon, but the way Max's eyes softened reassured you.

"I love you too," he replied, his voice steady and sincere, as if he had been waiting to say those words for a long time.

The weight of the moment settled between you, both comforting and exhilarating.

"What happens now?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Max's hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in a gesture that felt both grounding and electric.

"We take it one day at a time," he said, his smile widening. "No more hiding, no more pretending. Just us, figuring it out together."

The simplicity of his words brought a sense of calm over you, and you nodded, feeling more certain than ever that this was just the beginning of something beautiful.

"That means supporting me before Lewis," he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.

You chuckled, shaking your head with a mock-serious expression. "That's a bit of a stretch," you replied, your tone light and teasing. "I might need some convincing before I switch allegiances."

Max laughed, the sound rich and warm, filling the space between you. "Challenge accepted," he said, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "I'll just have to work extra hard to win you over, won't I?"

"Well, you've got your work cut out for you," you replied with a smirk. "But I'm open to seeing what you've got." His eyes sparkled with determination, and you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement.

"Don't worry, I love a good challenge," Max replied with a confident grin.

"By the end of this, you'll be my biggest supporter, just wait and see."

i.t.y/n

liked by maxverstappen1, mercedesamgf1, lewishamilton, and 1,702,847 others.

tagged; maxverstappen1

i.t.y/n: Hey everyone! I know I've kept you in the dark for a while, but I'm excited to finally share that Max and I are together. We've been enjoying our time together and wanted to keep it just for us for a bit. To make up for the secrecy, here are some adorable photos of Max that I know you'll love.

I have to admit, he's managed to convert me into a Red Bull fan. But don't worry, Mercedes will always have a special place in my heart. Thank you all for your understanding and support. 💙

view comments below

maxverstappen1: Schatje I love you 🫶

i.t.y/n: I LOVE YOU TOO MAXIE 🥰🥰

lewishamilton: Congratulations on your relationship! I hope you both the best 😊

i.t.y/n: Thanks dad! I'll always be supporting you in secret 👍

lewishamilton: @maxverstappen you better take care of my daughter

*liked by i.t.y/n*

maxverstappen1: Yes sir

mercedesamgf1: Don't worry Y/N, we know you will always belong to us 🩵

maxverstappen1: Actually Y/N is all mine and always will be mine so respectfully f**k off

i.t.y/n: Max what did we say about bad words????

maxverstappen1: sorry schatje, @mercedesamgf1 I mean with all the respect I can have, please frick off

*liked by i.t.y/n*

user2: NOT MAX FIGHTING WITH MERCEDES ACCOUNT OVER Y/N????

user3: Y/N is actually living the dream 🥹

i.t.y/n: @maxverstappen1 I was just looking at the pictures of you that I took and you're always smiling in them

maxverstappen1: That's because I love smiling at what's mine 🫶

i.t.y/n: That's so sweet! 🥰🫶

maxverstappen1: Wanna meet me after sim practice??

*liked by i.t.y/n*

938 notes · View notes

magicalink · 5 months ago

Text

The "Experiment"

Albedo is quite obsessed with pussy. In a scientific way of course! And you're the only female close friend he has. So he asks you to let him run an experiment to exhaustively explore it. You accept. And you come to realize that he's interested in it in other ways too...

Taglist: @dainsleif-when-playable @chaotichearts-19 @huachengscrustybandages @scaraskzzs @mizokowashere @xxventiswindblumexx @twistedw0nd3rland

Cw: Albedo x f!reader smut. Use of the words 'sexual harassment' once but it's just part of a conversation, to clarify that this is not Albedo's intention. Pls this is just a very unrealistic fictional situation between two adult friends who are horny with each other but pretend not to be because one of them is not even human and both are socially awkward. Please if a doctor starts touching you like this try to run away and go to a safe place and report it as soon as you can!

A/N: Sorry for the delay, I hope that if you were waiting for this story this post finds you well and you enjoy it.

“Okay Y/N, I’m about to start,” the blond man said, his voice as silky and calming as always.

You gulped, looking up at him. You were lying half-sitting, not to mention half-naked, on his examination table. Your back rested on a soft pillow and your panties on a chair next to the table. Albedo had made you open and flex your legs, exposing your whole vulva for him to explore. He was hovering over you, ready to start his tests.

He noticed you were uncomfortable.

“Are you nervous, Y/N?” He asked with his ever-sweet voice, using that soothing doctor-like tone that he used to try and make you feel more at ease with him.

You shook your head, trying to look convincing.

“I'm just cold…” you replied, at least saying something true. Without your panties, your soft parts were feeling chilly. Even if his lab was well covered from the merciless environment of Dragonspine, it wasn't precisely warm either.

“Oh, don't worry, I won’t be using the cold metal medical tools,” he said casually. And you looked visibly confused.

“What are you using then?” you didn’t even finish your sentence when you saw him tightening up his gloves. But not the latex medical gloves!

Albedo looked at your horrified expression and spoke before you could complain, aiming a warm smile at you.

“Again, don’t worry Y/N, these aren’t my everyday gloves, but a prototype of gloves specially designed for this kind of procedure.” he explained "They are completely clean, so you don't have to worry about any kind of infections."

“Okay,” you visibly relaxed on his hard, cold table. With that beautiful smile, with those beautiful eyes, you were unable to distrust him. You loved his eyes so much, they were eclipsing, calming. You got lost in them within seconds just like you always did.

It almost felt unreal how you two were completely alone in the medical section of the lab. Behind closed doors. Just the two of you. You wished you could have an intimate conversation, learn more about him.

But then you remembered you were laying in front of him showing him your pussy and suddenly you couldn’t look at his face anymore, so you averted your gaze.

You felt as if your cheeks were burning.

“You can start anytime,” you said, pretending to be calm.

He smiled again.

“Wonderful.”

And you gulped again, your heart beating so damn fast. Geez. His voice, his looks, everything about him was so mesmerizing. You felt like you were getting drunk on his presence.

You made your best effort to not make the situation more awkward. To pretend this was a professional doctor-patient situation. To pretend you were not crazily attracted to him and to not make him feel uncomfortable. You didn’t want him to think that you were a pervert!

You tried to imagine you were somewhere else to avoid feeling aroused.

But it was hard.

You were so focused your heart skipped a beat and you made a little jump when you felt his warm fingers touching your pussy.

Again your cheeks felt like exploding.

“Relax...” he said, caressing one of your legs with his other hand, trying to get you to be less stiff.

But he did you worse, since his silky touch on your skin sent a pleasurable shiver up your spine. You bit your lip in frustration. It was impossible to contain the wetness that appeared down there.

Albedo looked at your juicy vulva and gently pressed a finger in between the inner labia, preparing to slide it in.

You swallowed heavily and tried to breathe deeply, but it was useless since automatically your knees got pressed together and your pussy became wet and warm.

He tensed his lips when your knees wouldn’t let him see.

“Do you think you can open your legs wide for me?” he asked kindly.

Surprisingly, you were able to refrain from moaning something along the lines of “I could always have my legs open for you, Albedo.” with a stupid face and a sultry tone, and instead muttered a low “Sure” and complied slowly.

You hoped with all your heart that your expression didn't look lewd. You just never thought he would say such words to you.

“Relax Y/N, otherwise it will hurt”, he said with a kind smile and tone.

You nodded. But you begged it to hurt. You begged it didn’t feel good. You begged that no moans escaped your mouth so you contracted all of your body on purpose.

And it seemed like he was trying to torture you. To expose your true feelings.

He caressed the opening of your vulva vertically from up to down repeatedly with his thumb, while his other fingers were delicately massaging your outer labia. His other hand kept one of your legs in place to prevent them from closing. This made you go crazy. You were so horny!

What the heck were those gloves made of?! They felt amazing! Warm, soft, textured!

You could feel how the area was getting more and more humid, and that seemed to please Albedo.

“See? That's better, the natural lubrication that comes from your body will help so that it doesn’t hurt,” he explained and continued giving you a pleasurable massage, caressing and touching, sinking his fingers a millimeter in just to pull them out again, playing shamelessly with your pussy until it was a dripping mess.

You arched your back in response to the pleasure and covered your ashamed gaze with the inner side of your elbow.

“I'm sorry.” you lamented. How sinful, putting up such a show for just a simple examination. It was impossible that he didn’t realize what was going on.

But he was immutable.

“Don't get embarrassed Y/N, it’s a completely normal reflex. When something gets in contact with the vulva, a woman's vagina starts releasing its lubricants to prepare for the insertion of something,” he explained in a relaxed and professional tone, showcasing all he had recently learned.

You cursed in your mind.

“Sure, but it doesn’t get this soaked unless she is extremely horny!” you thought. But you just nodded, your eyes still covered. You couldn’t believe you were so desperate for him.

You just let him continue, now it was inevitable to keep your legs open for him, what was hard was containing the sounds of pleasure.

After caressing your whole vulva with his open palm one last time, he slightly separated your labia and approached the fingers of his dominant hand.

“Ready?”

You nodded with your still-covered face, trying not to cry and start apologizing for being such a pervert.

“Okay, I'm getting in.”

And with those very inciting words, he slid his index finger in between your folds, slowly entering your pussy. You gritted your teeth together when you felt him getting in, it was just too good.

He looked satisfied when your pussy accepted his finger, gradually wrapping around it.

“Just like that, veery well…” he dragged his words with a calming, deep, silky voice that made your legs spread wider and your pussy drip wetter. Then he started making a circular motion with his finger inside of you, making you rejoice in pleasure. It was so hard to pretend you didn’t like it so bad.

“Is it okay if I slide it fully in?” he asked.

You exhaled heavily through your nose, trying not to cry. “Why? Why do you have to pick such provocative words, Albedo?” you thought. It almost felt like he was doing it on purpose…

“Does it hurt?” he asked, a bit worried. It was still a bit hard for him to read your expressions. Were you putting up a good act after all?

“No, no, it’s ok. It’s just weird,” you said, again, at least saying something true.

“Ok, do you think you can take another one?”

You were taking anything from him at this point. You just nodded.

“Ok, here I go…”

Was it just your impression or was he dragging his words very sexily?!

After repeatedly getting a finger in and out of your pussy until it was stretched and relaxed enough, he inserted both his index and middle finger in, sliding them in slowly until they were both completely in.

Damn. His fingers were so long and slender. But the glove made them so thick. And your arousal made your pussy really tight around them, making you feel completely filled by them. He was stretching you with expert movements, causing too much pleasure to let it go to waste. You had to bite your tongue to avoid sticking it out.

“I’m sorry, Albedo,” you thought, surrendering to the satisfaction of his hot agile hands. “It’s impossible not to enjoy this.”

You sat back and relaxed, allowing your blush to break free and go up your body, painting it a soft pink.

You finally let out a sigh, tired of battling. The only part you kept hard was your face, furrowed in a wince to cover your sinful delight.

“Does it hurt, Y/N?” was he really fooled by your expression? Such a smart man?

“Yes…” you struggled to pronounce. How shameful, lying to Mr. Albedo like that. To such a proper man…

“How about this?” …or was he??

You witnessed in disbelief how he used his thumb to gently rub on your clit while he kept scratching your g-zone with his index and middle finger.

“Ah…” a soft moan finally escaped your lips. You locked eyes with him, accusingly. He gave you an apologetic smile.

That made you snap. All of this time feeling ashamed and blaming yourself for feeling so aroused! But now it was clear to you that none of the things he did were innocent.

Both of your masks fell off. Such hypocrites. None of you were being professional. Both of you were lying, and in a very cowardly way, to avoid making the final move to admit their feelings to one another. But to taste the waters in this way? The epitome of unprofessional! The whole medical thing was just a façade! Shameless. Completely shameless. You didn’t expect something like this from him.

All of this "experiment" request was probably just an elaborate plan for him to see if you would bang him.

You were mad. But you had been thirsty for him for such a long time…and you never thought he would reciprocate. You were happy. No, you were more than happy, you were ecstatic. You wanted to jump to him from the table like a tiger to devour him.

But he was so shameless! He didn’t deserve it. Teasing you in such a way while pretending to feel nothing! Unacceptable.

You wanted him to go further, to expose himself, to reach a point in which there was no doubt that those were his intentions from the beginning. He deserved it. He had been such a bad boy. So if he really wanted you, he would have to earn it.

"Mr. Albedo, why are you touching my clitoris?" You asked with feigned innocence, hoping to make him feel guilty. "Is it part of the experiment?"

You watched in delight as his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat under his star-shaped birthmark as he gulped down nervously. But he managed to keep the rest of his calm façade.

"Yes, Y/N, don't worry. It's needed to make sure the experiment goes well." He said, projecting that aura of being completely sure of himself that he always had. But your very sensitive pussy could feel his previously relaxed fingers tense up inside of you. Shameless. If this dude wanted to bang you, he’d have to beg for it.

"Ok, I see." You smiled politely, doing your best acting ever, as you sat back and made yourself comfortable on the examination table.

"Yes, let's continue…" he said with his deep and silky voice, sure he was back in control of the situation. He had no idea how wrong he was.

"By the way, Mr. Albedo," you said with an ample smirk. He looked down at you with a curious smile. Your whole demeanor had changed. You looked completely at home on his examination table, arms crossed behind your now laid back head, legs spread open around his arm whose digits were lost inside your warm depths "You never told me what this whole experiment was about." You said nonchalantly.

It was true. He had never told you the details. He had just pleaded you to help him and had earnestly told you that you were the only woman in the world he could ask such a favor from. And of course, that tactic worked, you had accepted with very little reluctance. Because you wanted to help him, of course, but also because of how big of a declaration of trust and intimacy that request was.

Even if he had pretended it was something professional. Even in those fake circumstances, you felt proud. To be the only woman close enough to Master Albedo, an artificial human who was often aloof to most people, seemingly uninterested in forming relationships with others. Your heart had raced at the thought that despite having Sucrose by his side for such a long time, the recent bond he had formed with you had made you the only suitable candidate for such a delicate matter. Because it meant that even if he didn’t reciprocate your lust and desire, he still felt quite close to you and trusted you.

And now here you were, unmasking Master Albedo’s true sneaky intentions. A wide, toothy smirk was splayed across your now confident face, satisfied that you caught him red-handed. Oh Archons, this man was reckless. He was simply unhinged. He loved to play with the limits of human relationships, tasting the waters as if it was an experiment, throwing savage jokes at people with the most subtle words and straight innocent faces. Despite not being human, he knew exactly how to treat them, how to play them. And that made you want to fuck him even more. He was so hot, so funny, so fucking alluring. And seeing his eternal confidence falter for the first time in your life was hilarious. You wanted to see the seemingly know-it-all, I-dont-have-human-desires chalkboy drool with a fucked-out face after being done with him.

“Ahem, well, Y/N, this experiment…” Albedo gulped, hesitating for a single moment before reading your expression, realizing how hungrily and shamelessly you ogled the golden, star-shaped mark on his throat, how wide and satisfied your grin was, how bright your eyes glinted with lust for him. And his smile came back to him, stretching his lips in a grin that reflected relief and also sweetness.

“The experiment was a success,” he said, looking down at you with a fond expression. You couldn’t help but giggle at his antics.

“Oh really? Why so? What were you testing, Master Albedo~?” You kept on punishing him with your teasing. You weren't letting it slide, he didn’t deserve it. If he really wanted you, he would have to admit his sin, and his feelings for you.

You watched, delighted, how his Adam’s apple bobbed yet again under his golden star with a lewd sound. You could swear his pants had already tightened. He had told you numerous times you had no need to address him so formally. Yet you were always “Mr. Albedo this, Mr. Albedo that”, and despite him desperately wanting you to address him informally for some confirmation of closeness, that did things to him.

And now you called him “Master Albedo” to punish him? Archons, that did make him feel things previously unknown to him. He had never felt anything like that before, much less for such a silly nickname. Sucrose called him like that all the time, and he had never felt anything weird about it. Yet here you were, making him feel things. Crazy things. He already knew you were special to him because you made him feel things he had never felt for a human, or for anyone, before. And this only fueled his wild desire for you further.

And now it was clear.

“The purpose of the experiment was to confirm or deny if you bore any kind of sentiment towards me,” he said with a kind smile, looking down at you with his ever-calm and soothing eyes. “And given the results, I think I can confidently say that you share the feelings of fondness and desire I bear towards you.” He finished in a conciliatory way, begging for forgiveness with that sheepish smiley face.

“You know that in the human sphere, this could be considered deception, abuse of power and sexual harassment, don’t you?” You asked with an expressionless face, taking a disinterested look at your nails. Albedo’s already light skin suddenly went completely pale, his cyan eyes opening wide as saucers in a terrified glare.

“Wait, r-really?” you heard him stutter for the first time in your life. The hand he had inside your pussy felt like it had turned to stone and he used the other one to grab a big notebook from the bookshelf, one full of papers and loose notes, that he skimmed frantically, trying to decipher where he went wrong.

“Yeah. I hope it’s not necessary for me to write a report to the Knights of Favo…” you continued with your cold act. But Albedo couldn’t care less.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked, his ice-blue eyes filled with worry. He kept his fingers inside of you, scared that, as he had studied, pulling them out suddenly would hurt you. “Did I offend you?”

You dropped the act and gave him a satisfied smirk because he passed the test, he had the reaction you had hoped for.

“I’m gonna forgive you just this time, because you’re not a human and you didn’t know what you were doing,” You said with a smug grin, observing him up and down, checking him out, still lying back with your arms comfortably crossed behind your head.

You could see Albedo quietly sigh in relief. He, who didn’t need to breathe. His body visibly relaxed and his skin recovered its natural color. He was about to make some snarky comment to try and get the upper hand again when you shushed him:

“But from now on I expect you to get your research on humanity right, chalkboy,” You said teasingly with a toothy grin.

And you heard him gulp. That golden star in his throat bobbed deliciously again, making you want to just jump at him and bite it already. But you were making him beg. And you felt triumphant upon seeing his reaction.

Chalkboy. His lips curled in a smirk. He felt giddy inside. You swore you could see his gray trousers getting tighter again. He took a step closer to you, who still laid arms crossed and legs open in his examination table, smiling wide at him.

Chalkboy. Did you really just call him chalkboy?

A year of battling for you to stop calling him Mister and now you were finally engaging in playful banter with him, and even called him a nickname? A mocking nickname on top of that??

To him that was the pinnacle of human interaction. He had been experiencing human-like sexual phenomena due to you for a while, but now you just gave him the stiffest boner of his life. He had been experiencing desires lately, but just now you made him straight up wanna fuck like he was made of flesh and blood and had the same animal nature that built your cells. He wanted to mix his cells with yours, in the filthiest way possible.

Chalkboy. He loved it. His experiment was a success, now he knew that no matter how you called him, whether it was with honorifics or informally, it made him feel good in different ways. But if you called him chalkboy…

“My dear Y/N, I promise you that from now on I’ll be much more careful in my research with human relationships,” he smiled sweetly and flirtatiously, hovering over you on the examination table, his free hand caressing your cheek “I want to kindly ask you: if you do indeed reciprocate my fascination towards you, do you want to be my partner in this journey to study the complexity of human relationships? I promise this time there will be no more secrets between you and me, and I want you to be the one to guide me,” he asked with a sweet gaze, his eyes hypnotizing you more than ever. You had never seen them filled with such fondness, with such affection, and most importantly, you had never seen them glazed with…lust.

That apology, that display of affection, and that confession of desire were enough to your hungry heart, so you smiled back at him, your heart racing excitedly. You giggled and held onto his hand that was on your cheek with both your hands in an equally affectionate way.

“My dear Albedo, I’d be delighted,” you said with a sweet smile that turned naughty when you pulled him closer. “I’m no expert though, I still have so much to learn too, and I’d love to do it with you.”

Both of you giggled when reading a second meaning in your words. You felt your pussy throb when you saw Albedo’s face contort in a teasing, seductive expression, and then you remembered his fingers lost in your depths.

“You don’t know how happy I am, Y/N…” he whispered, slowly starting to move his fingers again inside your folds that instantly reacted to his caresses. They started to renew the lubrication around his fingers, and a little mewl of pleasure escaped your lips. Albedo placed a finger from his other hand on them, as if studying your mouth and your reaction, lust and curiosity battling inside of him to take control. Before he could lean down to kiss you, you interrupted.

“What’s up with these gloves, Albedo?” you protested, tugging at the glove on his hand that was on your face. They were in the way, you wanted to be with him skin to skin “Did you make them with the sole purpose of sticking them in my privates or what?” You chuckled.

“Yes,” he smiled. The excitement he felt each time you called his name without honorifics was still hard to contain for him “I built them to ensure maximum pleasure.” He said, recovering a bit of composure.

You looked at him skeptically. You had asked that as a joke, you weren't expecting something like that. You were impressed. Human men would invite you to dinner (at most) if they wanted to fuck. But this chalk boy went all the way to build a sex toy, something you didn’t know if it even existed in Teyvat to begin with, for you. You let that sink in, observing him with your mouth agape.

Hm, first Venti and now him. This thing of fucking supernatural beings was going to become a custom, you could feel it in your blood…or rather, in your clit…

And it was the most exciting thing that you had ever felt in your unnaturally long life. After centuries of numbness and dullness, this was the kind of thrill that made you feel truly alive for the first time ever, something that you only experienced since you woke up in Teyvat less than a year ago. So you held onto those feelings and sensations for dear life.

“It does feel pleasurable,” you smiled up at him. The gloves made his slender fingers double the thick, absorbed the heat of your body to make them extra warm, and even had the texture of round tacks over its surface, letting him scratch every single pleasure point inside your folds with ease.

“I’m glad they work as intended. I really wanna put them to the test right now…” he said and you knew he meant business. The way he started fingering you stole your breath away and now you were moaning as your legs threatened to close again from the sensitivity.

“W-were you investigating how to finger a woman too??” You giggled teasingly in between moans, his deft fingers working wonders at turning your pussy into a drenched mess.

“Of course. I wanted to ensure that I would be able to take you to the point of orgasm,” Albedo nodded, his words still too methodical for your amusement.

“And where did you study that? Did you ask Kaeya for tips?” you stifled your giggle with your hand.

Albedo laughed as well, enjoying this moment of intimacy and bonding with you.

“Of course not. I’ve just been studying the anatomy of the vulva and the vagina, and taking into account the numerous…” you interrupted him.

“Come here,” you said softly, your eyes softening as well. You motioned him to pull his fingers out and to lean further down, pulling him close on top of you. You looked him in the eye, you looked at his lips, at his star birthmark, then at his eyes again.

You both locked eyes, lids slowly dropping and pupils gradually dilating. Albedo liked this. The beginning of intimacy. Studying it was fascinating. Experiencing it was enrapturing.

“No more books for a little while, ok?” You whispered, running your fingers through his gorgeous blond hair that you had always dreamed of touching. It felt like silk. Golden strands of silk sliding between your fingers “Just for a while. Just two people who like each other and want to be close…” you proposed, blushing profusely at the implication of your words “C-can we?”

“Y/N, I…” his golden eyebrows rose over his icy eyes, mouth agape as a little breath escaped his delicate lips again, even if he didn’t need it. He hesitated. Many thoughts coursed through his mind, his expression looking somewhat guilty.

“Please,” you implored with your eyes pulling his hand away from the quill and the notes “You can write down your notes after we finish, ok?”

“But what if I forget…?” Albedo sighed with a longing expression.

“Nothing worth remembering will happen if you don’t come close and focus on me. On us,” You said blushing, looking at his lips to avoid his gaze, embarrassed “This experiment is very different from the ones you normally do. Trust me, ok? I’m no expert, I’m new to this too but the only thing I’m sure about is that you just gotta relax and flow with the moment…I learned that the hard way,” you whispered, getting your fingers lost in his golden hair.

“Y/N…” He mumbled, looking down at you as his lids slowly covered his blue irises.

You tensed. How to convince this chalkboy? You started to babble with a pleading tone:

“Please. It’s different. Because even if you’re still the scientist who wants to analyze the data, this time you’re part of the phenomena you want to study. And this is not an exact science, if you don’t focus and let loose that phenomenon is not going to happ…” Finally, his lips clashed against yours, ending your insistent speech. Finally, you convinced him.

“Y/N…” he mumbled again, his intense eyes piercing yours with a longing gaze “I wanna make something unforgettable happen now. Not just something worth studying, something worth remembering. For both of us.” He admitted. You saw him blush for the first time, unsure if he had done the right thing by kissing you like that.

“That was a great first step…” you smiled sweetly, calming his nerves, and pulling him closer.

It felt weird when he held you while his hands were still covered in those textured gloves, but the kiss you exchanged was so good nothing else mattered at that moment. His lips felt so nice. Solid, cold, rough, but in a nice way. You pulled him even closer until he was straddling you on the examination table, making it creak.

You made out while you caressed his hair and scalp, he smelled and tasted so good. Like vanilla, sweet flowers, and…somehow, icy. His body felt so unnaturally cold to the touch that you felt the need to give him a bear hug to warm him up.

Meanwhile, Albedo felt in heaven. So in heaven, he let go of the quill and notes. More than anything, he was a curious soul and loved having new experiences. And this was his first kiss ever. So he also allowed himself to explore something new without monitoring it meticulously for the first time ever. It was like a whole new world of exciting things had been opened in front of his eyes, along with a new challenge: learning everything about it without endless analysis and report sheets. Just two people, exploring their bodies and letting themselves burn in the tension and the feelings that had been building up for months.

“Umf…” Albedo kept discovering things about himself, and he loved that. First, he discovered he was an avid kisser. He kissed you exploring every nook and crevice of your mouth, enjoying the new world of smells, flavors, and textures that was your body. He kissed you with no limitation because unlike you he didn’t need to make pauses to breathe.

“Sorry,” he chuckled with a sweet smile, releasing you as you started to gasp for air. “I think I’m finally getting carried away…” a smug smirk played on his pale, delicate lips.

“Great…” you smiled back, truly glad, as you normalized your breath before placing your hands on his shoulders.

He was so lost in the kisses that it took him a bit to realize that you were tugging at his clothes. Right, this experiment had more steps. He wanted to experience more!

“Want me to disrobe…?” He asked with a kind yet teasing expression.

“Please…” you nodded, blushing when you realized just how needy you sounded, getting bright red when he chuckled in response. All that horniness you had been trying to suppress for so long finally had the chance to escape.

Between giggles, Albedo balanced himself on his knees while you tried to help him undress. You were of very little help in undoing the intricate belts and buttons of his eccentric attire (which you wondered if never got uncomfortable for him to wear), but he appreciated your intention nonetheless.

You felt a little flame rise in your lower belly when he discarded his giant coat and you saw him in a plain blue shirt, undone buttons exposing that star on his neck that you wanted to devour so much. You took your hands to the shirt and this time you were quick to undo all of its buttons, revealing his lean and slightly toned midriff.

Fuck he was hot. His alabaster-like skin had a subtle ethereal glow, just like his hair. He looked like some kind of angel. One with a very horny look on his face. Your heart raced, you had never seen him like that. You had seen his eyes with a teasing expression countless times before, but never lit up with desire. You couldn’t believe you were the one he desired. You didn’t understand how or why, but there was no point in questioning it right now, you just had to take this opportunity, he wanted you as much as you wanted him. Maybe even more…

You caressed his shoulders when you pulled his shirt down, leaving it hanging from his elbows because you thought he looked even sexier that way. His skin was smooth, soft, and his flesh was firm.

You pulled him down on top of you and you entangled in a passionate kiss again, your hands pawing at each other’s hair and backs.

You had to make little pauses to breathe, making his desire grow uncontrollably for more and more. He liked experiencing for once a feeling so strong that he had to make an effort and restrain himself so he could give you time to get your much-needed oxygen.

In one of your pauses, you finally acted on your primal desires and placed a hand on the back of his neck to press him down onto you and bit his star-shaped birthmark. He let out a joyous moan he didn’t know he was capable of producing as you licked and nibbled at his golden star, his Adam's apple protruding under his delicious neck. Damn, just damn, you turned him on in a way he had never felt before. He didn’t need oxygen. He needed you.

“Ah…” you moaned too when you felt him hump your bare pussy, arousing you further. You looked down and saw his slacks bulging needily. You blushed when you realized you had stained his fly with your juices.

Albedo had no option but to let go of you even if for a brief moment to release himself from those pesky pants that were getting in the way of that desperately needed connection with you. He looked down at himself for a moment to admire, amazed, the way his pants formed a tent like never before. This, too, was a new experience for him. He had been having these physical reactions for a while, when his desire got awakened by you. But he had never been this stiff, this throbbing. This desperate. Like he was finally part of the animal kingdom. He liked it. He enjoyed it.

He quickly undid his metallic belt with a swift movement, making a lewd sound that made you arch your back, and just the sight of your pussy bucking up and pleading for him made him open his eyes hungrily and he throbbed again. He needed you right now, so he didn't even bother to take off his pants. He just unbuttoned them and pulled them down enough to take his aching cock out.

He looked at it for a brief second, still taking in the sensation of seeing and feeling himself like that for the first time. He had never been so erect, so worked up. His cock was so sensitive that every pump of his artificial blood felt nice each time it made it throb, swaying slightly as it poked out of his underwear.

You were mesmerized, almost drooling as you saw such a delicious sight. That cock was so perfect, so immaculately white under its golden frame, pale pink hues etched delicately onto the pulsing veins on its upper side and onto the desperate tip. He was bigger than you expected. Not too big in length, but in girth. He was so thick it made your pussy throb in anticipation.

It was such a piece of eye candy that you made a futile attempt to get up from your laid position to try and grab him to, put him in your mouth. But Albedo didn’t even realize, and he didn’t give you time to do it. He was so enraptured by this animal awakening that he pushed you back down onto the table without even thinking. His hand was wrapped around the base of this organ that captured your attention so much, holding it firmly just to push it directly into your needy core.

And that’s exactly what he did. He didn’t waste time. He used his hand to guide it like he knew what he was doing and you felt its pale tip rub against your clit before it slid effortlessly into your drenched depths.

“Ah…~” a needy moan escaped your lips as you finally got the desires you had been suppressing for months fulfilled in an abrupt thrust that stretched you out just the way you liked.

As he released the base of his cock, he gave you an analyzing look to check if your whimpers meant that he was hurting you or making you feel good. And the dilated look on your pupils, drunk on pleasure over your flushed cheeks, was enough to make a wildfire ignite in his chest, ready to fuel that movement he had been studying tirelessly but which motivation he had never comprehended before this very moment.

His hands and knees rested at both sides of your body on the examination table as he loomed over you, his spine curved to position his face oh so close to yours. Out of your daze, you opened your eyes only to find his, burning despite their icy color like never before. You felt a rush of emotion, a blush that crept from your stomach up to your cheeks. You wrapped your legs around his narrow hips and your arms around his neck, caressing the hair on the back of his head, pulling him closer, making him yelp. But he quickly adjusted, a sweet giggle erupting from his defined lips. You exchanged amused and complicit smiles at this newfound connection. Neither of you could believe this was finally happening. It was like an impossible dream. And as if afraid that it could end at any moment, you wasted no time.

One of his hands propped him up, the other one found its place on your temple to hold it firmly and rub circles on your skin with his thumb. You tilted your hips, pulling him close into you with both your limbs and your hungry insides. He moaned again, feeling you suck him deeper and deeper. Deep until he hit the very bottom. And just When he thought there wouldn’t be anything else capable of turning him into an animal, he hit your cervix with his tip. And that’s when he lost himself.

“Archons…” he trembled as he knew this was the first time he was letting loose for real and losing control. He pulled all the way out just to thrust back in in a sharp motion that made you moan, only fueling his lust further. And then the studied, previously foreign motion felt natural, like a need he didn’t know he had. Back and forth, in and out, until the edge of the examination table rattled against the wall relentlessly.

As his thumb rubbed shakily onto your cheek, you pulled him impossibly closer, your bare legs wrapping tighter around his slim waist. It felt so damn good. The gloves had been amazing, but Albedo didn’t fall behind. His cock was so goddamn thick it filled you up in a way that made you wetter and wetter, slick dripping down your entrance and making a mess each time he pushed in and out. It rubbed so well every crevice, scratching those spots that tingled so tasty…

It was perfect, amazing, wild. Forehead against forehead, your sweat tainting his cold skin, the lab was filled with sounds so lewd they took your lust up a notch. The creaking of the examination table, suffering under both your weights, its slamming against the wall until the paint was dented, and the squelch…the squelch your drenched pussy made each time his cock pushed back inside was maddening.

His cock was cold like the rest of his body, further stimulating you until you lost all shame and started moaning as you observed his handsome face. Your heat warmed his body, and your sweat made his soft skin shimmer. Crazed out of pleasure, you bit his star again, a strangled moan erupting from his throat as your hands got lost in his blond hair, messing up his usually neat braid.

“Bedo…” you moaned, and that was his sweet demise.

It was too much. This wild experience, this sweet pleasure, and the fulfilling intimacy of you calling him a nickname in that lust-filled voice.

“Haah…” he couldn’t keep it in. The control slipped out of his hands for real for the first time in his life and it felt amazing. The orgasm hit him like a fucking truck, making him see white and making his always crowded mind go completely blank.

“Y-Y/N…” he moaned desperately, his already deep voice sounding breathier and huskier than ever before. Realizing what was happening, you held him even tighter as he rode his high for as long as he could.

As thick ropes of not exactly cold but unnaturally lacking in warmth cum spurted deep into your body, Albedo felt his mind heavy and hazy. He let out a guttural groan that made you horny as fuck, and kept pumping his semen inside of you, yet another new side of himself awakening this fateful afternoon. He felt as if he was an animal too, as if he was possessed by some kind of organic need to reproduce.

If he could, he would be sweating more than you, his brow furrowed in effort, pumping in desperately until his cock wasn’t hard enough to do it anymore. With another groan, this time of frustration, he collapsed on top of you.

“Ngh…” he sighed, and the examination table creaked and hit the wall one last time as his movements finally died down, his whole weight rested on you.

“There, there…” you said softly, still blushing a bit, but recovering your thinking and speaking capabilities now that he wasn’t pleasing you. You rubbed his back gently with your hand, hugging him.

Albedo took some moments to savor this delightful moment: the triumph of finally achieving the physical and emotional intimacy he had wanted with you for so long, the success in transcending the theory of this ritual he had studied tirelessly to finally experiencing it for himself, the post-orgasmic bliss, the memories he would never forget…

“I’m sorry…” he whispered after a while, his voice still husky and sexy to your lustful ears.

“S-sorry?” you raised your brows in perplexity “Why are you sorry for? I already told you that I forgive you…” you mumbled.

“Not for that,” he chuckled, finally recovering to slowly lift himself back up onto his hands to straddle you again “For releasing before you…” he said with that irresistible breathy voice, finally managing to steady himself onto the table. You found his relaxed expression and disheveled appearance beyond hot.

“Ah, don’t worry, that happens,” you said, blushing, despite the fact that that very rarely happened to you with Venti.

You saw him pull out of you with a very careful motion, your still needy pussy throbbing in frustration. You wondered what the hell was going through his mind as he placed his hand on it and separated your labia a bit to observe his semen pour down onto the table. You had never seen that look in his eyes before. You had never seen him bite his lip either. That made you blush even more.

“No, Y/N, you don’t worry. I’m not letting you go unfulfilled,” he replied with an enigmatic tone, engrossed in observing the white substance gushing out of your body.

A million questions ran through his mind. Regarding the full extent of his nature and existence. Regarding the possibility of his seed yielding any kind of fertility. His ever-curious nature came back to him recharged, now fueled by this previously unknown desire to breed.

“Oh…really?” was all you managed to mumble, looking up at him with red cheeks and again wondering what the hell was going on in that freaky mind of his. Up to this very day, you had always thought of Mr. Albedo as a very proper man. But now you were starting to realize that he was a weirdo.

“Most certainly,” he smiled with satisfaction as he tightened both textured gloves and pushed two fingers back into your needy core.

“Hyah!” you moaned, gripping the sides of the examination table. It didn’t matter if he was a weirdo, he was a weirdo who made you feel good.

“Does my invention have your approval, Y/N?” he asked, looking down at you with icy blue eyes full of hopefulness.

As he explored all of the pleasure points he had carefully studied in the few books that he had managed to find, all you could do was nod in between moans and give him a weak thumbs up.

You inhaled to tell him something, but he interrupted you again:

“I’m so glad. I wanted to ensure maximum pleasure. Please let me show you the full extent of the potential of this device!” he smiled, clearly excited to show off his creation and gain your validation. And then came your sweet demise.

Because with the push of a button, the textured gloves started to vibrate. To fucking vibrate.

Ah, Archon-forsaken Albedo…he could be as much of a freak as he wanted! This was too much, too much…did this even exist in Teyvat? Had he just built a gadget that he could patent and get rich?

You didn’t know. All you knew was that now you were the one throwing your head back and moaning in pleasure, louder than ever before. So loud that you were lucky you were alone at the lab today.

“Is it good?” Albedo smiled down at you, his artificial heart beating excitedly in his chest.

Your moans were ragged, not pleasant or erotic to the ears at all. They sounded more like an agonizing animal. But they showed just how much of a good time you were having. And that made Albedo giggle in pure satisfaction.

He kept fingering you, and pressed the vibrating part against the head of your clit until your hips snapped and you let out a loud and labored moan. And then the disaster.

The vibrations that were applied to the head of your clit traveled through your nerves until they reached your brain, turning it into pudding. Your mind went blank, and your body reacted in a way previously unknown to you.

“Mesmerizing…” Albedo mumbled in utter fascination as you came undone, panting and moaning, and let out a generous squirt of warm whitish liquid that stained everything, tainting the air with yet another pungent aroma.

“Al…bedo…” you moaned weakly, trying to apologize as your brain was trying to recover its solid state.

“Don’t worry, it’s perfect,” He said softly, with a calm smile. With lidded eyes glinting with wishes untold, he observed the mess splattered all over his clothes and the examination table. His usual self wanted to collect all kinds of samples and his newfound animalistic side wanted to lick it clean.

“P-perfect?” You asked weakly, slowly closing your shaky legs to lay on your side and try to normalize your breath after that mind-blowing orgasm.

“Yes, Y/N, it was perfect. You are perfect.” He smiled, looking at you as if he was in a trance and scooting closer “You are so special. So very special…” he added with his silky voice, cupping your chin with a gentle hand to make you look at him.

You looked into his eyes. They were icy blue and pretty as ever. But there was something different in them you hadn’t seen before. At that moment, you had no idea what it was about.

Albedo was a very good host for the end of the evening. He helped you clean yourself and didn’t complain about the mess you had made in his lab. He cooked for you and you had a pleasant conversation over dinner, huddled up and protected from the cruel cold of the outside. You felt your friendship with him grow. When it was late and dark and obviously time to go, he told you to stay the night and to leave in the morning when it was less dangerous. “Crossing Dragonspine during the night is unwise and imprudent!” He had said.

And he was so hospitable so as to let you into his private room to sleep in his bed. So that was what you did. You slept by his side, snuggled into warm blankets that made the snowstorm outside seem like a distant dream.

Contrary to your expectations, there was no sex that night. You slept peacefully while Albedo was in the lab, and when he seemed to finish his experiments and came back to the room to sit on the bed, next to you, he continued to take notes on uncountable papers.

From time to time, he turned his head to see you and check if you were asleep and to squeeze your hand affectionately or pat your back in a soothing manner.

But you didn’t have any more sex. That night.

The next morning you left in peace, and you didn’t have sex with him again until months later, when you returned from Liyue.

In the letters you exchanged, the growing friendship and trust was clear and so were the intentions of repeating the experience. But both of you were ignorant of something very important about the other. Albedo was too subtle with his hints and you didn’t pick them up.

So the first time you returned to Mondstadt after your endeavors in Liyue, he took the chance and invited you for dinner.

That night, he told you about his desire to procreate with you, and you, flabbergasted, literally said ‘no, thank you’. He was surprised, and asked you why you had sex with him months ago if the idea of reproducing was so unpleasant to you. And you, shocked, had to admit that you just assumed he was sterile. Because he was...right?

Albedo had cleared his throat uncomfortably and had told you that he was not sure about this, that he desperately wanted to know if there was a possibility that he could have his own children. It was obvious to you that it was a sensitive topic for him. So it was hard to find the words and the tone to reject his proposal and keep your friendship intact.

How did you make it? How did you tell him that you had no intentions of having children, that your priority was to find your brother, that he shouldn’t feel down, that he would he a wonderful father even if he wasn’t a biological one, that now you were always taking a contraceptive herb given to you by some wise ladies in Liyue and that you two could have sex as long as you took that herb just in case he ended up being fertile?

Well, that’s a topic for another story.

This one ends here. But you never knew if Albedo was simply sterile or if that intense day at the lab you didn’t get pregnant because of pure luck.

Oof! I can't believe I finally posted this weird thing. I'm not sure I like how this one turned out, it has many incongruences because it was started in...2021!!! Can you believe that?? 💀💀 I'm literally not the same person I was when I fisrt started this drabble. I had to fix and rewrite the beginning because this was one of my first attempts at writing in english, I had no idea about english punctuation during dialogues and many other important things. I had to add quotation marks and commas to every single old dialogue 💀 Also upon re reading it I realized just how creepy the situation was originally so I rewrote it a bit to try and fix it? I dunno if I fixed it. Guess I witnessed things irl that made me open my eyes about certain things so I cut out parts that grossed me out and re wrote them. I know I wouldn't write something like that nowadays, it's impressive to see the changes on my writing and my thinking over time, specially over such a short period of time like 2021-2024, I usually focus on the changes from the things I used to write when I was in highschool. It would have been interesting if I had completed this fic back then and compare it to a new fic, but I didn't so I got this weird Frankenstein hybrid instead.

Not only you can see the messy seams in this piece because of the changes on my views but you can also notice the incongruence in Y/N's behavior 💀 This story happens before Y/N travels to Liyue from the first time, so she was still a shy and inexperienced woman, she just had her first love, first kiss, first everything with Venti and that is clear in the beginning, where I left the dialogues and inner thoughts I wrote back in 2021, while towards the middle and the sex scene she suddenly jumps to being the Y/N of the current version, who has seen lots of stuff in Teyvat and had tons of things to show to Albedo. Oops...💀 I tried to fix it so that she wouldn't be as forward as she would be now, but I really wanted to finish this fic and I found it really boring to write shy, inexperienced, insecure, passive Y/N, so in the name of having fun at writing I ended up with a thing in between. But honestly that part where she manipulates him and plays him like a fiddle is 100% post Fontaine Y/N and completely out of cronology. Tried to tone her down during sex to reflect her little experience, dunno if succeeded.

I don't entirely dislike this piece because I think it illustrates well the relationship I envisioned for Y/N and Albedo and I think their cringe and socially inept dialogues are on point to that. Albedo struggles with being overly formal without trying because that's just the way he talks, and shy, people pleasing Y/N used to mimic that, even if Albedo desperately wants her to drop the formalities with him and doesn't know how to ask for it properly. Yeah towards the sex scene that falters and current Y/N shows but oh well. Guess this is what happens when you leave a fic unfinished for 3 whole years. I wanted to take this off my drafts desperately. I want to finish those old projects I wanted out so I can make space for the new ideas I have! Lately I've been really in the mood for starting a new fic. And hopefully finish it within a year before I completely lose touch with the feelings and views that inspired it.

I started writing erotica ten years ago when I was 14 💀 And at first everything was so wholesome until I got unsupervised internet access and porn ruined my mind. I started this blog to slowly reconnect and reconcile with sex and sexuality and upon re reading the first fics I posted (*cough cough* the Scara ones specially*) I think that's working. And what happened over the years with this fic is a perfect example of that. Can't wait to see if I improved when I start a brand new one.

This fic was supposed to be finished and posted in March 💀 And we are ENDING JUNE 💀💀💀 My sincere apologies if anyone thought I was dead or dropped the fandom, the truth is that I still write a lot whenever I can, but because of university I have no time for organizing, editing and posting. At the beginning of the year, when I said I would post a fic per month, I was totally underestimating how hard sophomore year can be 💀 It was also super hard for me to finish fics about characters who are not Scara/Kuni/Wanderer 😳 I'll have some free time in a few weeks, so hopefully I'll gather the strength to polish and post all the raw content that's sitting dormant in my drafts.

I missed Tumblr and my blog so much 🥺 I wish I had more time for this. I have tons 9f unread notifications and no time to read them all. I don't even have time to read fanfics nor the books I bought for pleasure, because I need to finish reading for university 🥺

I dunno what or when (hopefully as soon as possible) next post or posts will be, so expect the unexpected 😅 Or make your requests, I'm working on two at the moment (that person who asked for Ei catching step-siblings Kuni and Y/N, if you happen to be reading this, I'm halfway through it, I swear!)

Anyway, I just hope all the people who voted for this fanfic like it if even a bit, despite it being a bit of a Frankenstein. It has some parts that I like a lot. See you next time!

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin x you #genshin fanfic #fanfic #albedo #albedo x reader #albedo smut #albedo x you

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imagine-you · 3 months ago

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all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me [Logan/Reader]

Summary: Sequel to won't somebody come take me home? and closer to where I started. Now that you've decided to put the past behind you, you're focused solely on what the future holds for you, Logan, and your family. Whether that means teaming up with the X-Men to help stop the escalated attacks around the city or sitting down for a nice dinner with Logan, Laura, and Wade, you're ready for all of it. You're so close to being completely happy until you find yourself a victim of one of the attacks and find out that someone from Logan's universe has managed to return. You never expected your new life to be easy, but you certainly never thought Logan's wife would show up and disrupt everything you had built for yourself. Word Count: 9k Author's Note: This chapter may contain: Angst, Reader Whump, Surprise Cameos, Angst, A New Villain, A Disrupted Villain Origin Story, Training Montages, Angst, A Smidge of Hope, Illusions, and…Angst. (but I swear the angst gets resolved. y'all have to trust me!! there will be a happy ending for this fic.)

When I'm With You I'm Home 'verse

won't somebody come take me home? // closer to where I started

Read on AO3

If anyone had told you while you were stuck in the Void that there was a future where you found yourself in another universe and your greatest wish had come true, then you would have chalked it up to a pipe dream and left it at that. If anyone had told you there was a future where your worst nightmare had come true, well then, that would've been easier to believe.

"What are you making?" Laura asked, peering over your shoulder to get a look at the stove.

"Something special," you told her, winking at her when she let out an impatient huff. "Steak and pasta," you clarified, turning your attention back to where you were spooning sauce over the steaks, hoping the flavor carried through for you.

After getting back from your original universe, you had felt like the weight of the past had been lifted off your shoulders. You didn't give a fuck about your original Logan and as far as you were concerned, he could fuck off into whatever happy existence he wanted with Jean. Did you want them to suffer? Maybe. But it was no longer a requirement for you to heal.

Your Logan had made sure of that.

Now, weeks had passed, and you felt like a new person. Gone was the obsession with the past and in its place was now your excitement for the future.

Your future with Logan and Laura and even Wade. Your future with a new family and a new team. Life hadn’t given you a moment of rest, but you were happy to know that when your back was against the wall, you had people ready to jump in and protect you from whatever hit came your way.

All of you had spent the last couple of weeks wrapped up in the escalated attacks happening throughout the city. There weren't many indicators about who exactly was causing them. Half the time, there were explosions and other times it was just an outright slaughter.

Logan and Wade were out trying to help the X-Men clean up the latest catastrophe. You had opted to stay home with Laura, taking a moment of well-deserved rest from running from one tragedy to the next. Logan had left you with a promise to return that evening and a kiss that hinted at more later.

You thought it was cute how Logan kept insisting he was retired, but the first sign of trouble, and he couldn't help but jump right in. It was why you loved him, because even though he had spent years spiraling after the devastation he faced with his old life, he still couldn't help but try to make things better for others.

You liked to think you had a little something to do with that.

Even though you were just within reach from a perfect existence, you knew it still wasn't without its problems. You and Logan still had a lot of work to do. Both of you were still holding things close to the chest, afraid to show them and lose everything you had earned.

Sometimes, you caught Logan simply watching you, wary and concerned, as if he thought you were about to leave him. Other times, when Logan woke in the middle of the night and reached for you, you wondered if he knew it was you or if he still held onto the memory of his wife, seeking her for comfort. Logan had been open and honest with you, but you sometimes got the feeling that he wasn't telling you everything. Some nights, when you couldn't sleep, you would lie awake and watch him, terrified that if given the chance he would leave you in a heartbeat for his old life.

You always had the feeling like the other shoe was about to drop, so you had taken on the mentality that you were going to enjoy every day you got with him. Which was why you were hellbent on making the perfect dinner and having the perfect dessert all ready to go when he got back home.

"Shit," you hissed when you started stirring together the ingredients for the pasta sauce. "I forgot one thing," you groaned, glancing over at Laura. "I've got to go out to grab something. Will you keep an eye on this for me? Just make sure it doesn't burn," you instructed her when Laura gifted you with a skeptical look.

"What if it burns?" Laura wondered, reaching out to take the spoon from you when you handed it to her.

"Then we'll order takeout," you answered with a shrug of your shoulders. "It won't be a big deal, but I still want to try to get this right," you told her, reaching out to flick her ear.

Laura turned a glare on you, and you knew if you were anyone else, she would have already brought out her claws. You saw a fond smile take the place of her scowl before she shook her head. "Hurry," she urged you, turning a wary look at the stove.

"Ten minutes," you promised, reaching out to grab your keys and wallet. "Just going down to the corner store." You saw Laura open her mouth and you knew what she was going to ask. "Yes, I'll get the cookies," you told her, thinking of the chocolate monstrosities she was so obsessed with lately.

Laura grinned at you, pleased, and cautiously began to stir the sauce.

You locked the apartment door behind you. You knew Laura was more than capable of taking care of herself and she had already been through hell and back, but you couldn't help but want to protect her in every way you could. She was still a kid, even if she would point out she was seventeen.

You made it to the tiny market just around the corner from your apartment within four minutes. You were eager to get back and finish dinner. You couldn't wait to see the look on Logan's face when you had dinner all set up and told him that Laura even helped make it. You knew Wade would invite himself to dinner, so you would of course have extra just for him. You knew you wouldn’t be here without him, and while he drove you crazy, you now couldn’t imagine your life without him in it.

You were a family, fucked up and weird, but full of love.

You grabbed the cookies Laura wanted and searched for a can of black olives. You caught sight of the spices and started in that direction to see if there was anything extra you wanted to add to the sauce. You figured you had maybe five minutes to get back before Laura insisted she did everything she could to salvage dinner, but maybe you should just order pizza.

You were reaching out to grab a bottle of parsley flakes when you noticed something pass right in front of you. You startled at the sight of the playing card, faintly glowing pink, as it sailed towards the shelves in front of you.

You didn't even have time to prepare before the card landed and the shelves exploded. You brought your arms up, trying to shield your face from the shrapnel. The force of the blast was strong enough to throw you back into the shelves behind you. You felt your head connect with the edge of one the shelves and stars exploded in your vision.

There was a ringing in your ears and the taste of blood in your mouth. Your head felt like it was spinning as you struggled to open your eyes, not even sure when you had closed them.

You could hear footsteps approaching you and you managed to squint up at the person standing in front of you. Your gaze drifted from his boots to his trench coat and then up to his eyes. They were glowing a faint red.

"Remy?" You groaned, reaching up to press a hand to your forehead. You blinked a couple of times, trying to make sense of what was going on. You looked at your fingers and they were stained red, blood coating them. Your face was stinging from the bits of shrapnel you hadn’t been able to shield yourself from and the back of your head was aching in a way you had never felt before.

Remy crouched down in front of you. He reached out and tucked his fingers under your chin, forcing you to look at him. "Now, I know we've never met before, so how is it you know my name?" He turned your head one way and then the other, considering you for a brief moment, before he made a thoughtful noise. "Oh, but believe me, we're going to get to know each other real well, bon ami. Just you wait." His eyes were no longer glowing, but there was a devious look in them you didn't like.

You attempted to sit up, but your vision swam and you felt like you were going to throw up. “What the hell are you doing?” You attempted to ask, but your words were slurred, and you were having a hard time concentrating on him even though he was right in front of you.

"Let's get you home, hm?" Remy said, gathering you up in his arms. He stood, lifting you with him, and you tried to wriggle out of his hold, but he was clutching you tightly enough that you couldn’t move.

The last thing you saw was the underside Remy's jaw and the blur of the ceiling tiles above you before darkness swept in to collect you.

You woke to sunlight that had escaped past the curtains in your bedroom and crept right towards you. It was an unwelcome intrusion and you brought your hand up to shield your eyes.

You groaned, forcing yourself to sit up, before squinting at your surroundings. Your head was aching, each pound of your heart sending a bolt of pain right behind your eyes. You didn’t remember drinking the night before or even crawling into bed, but it felt like the worst hangover you had ever experienced.

"Fuck," you grumbled before forcing yourself out of bed. Logan seemed to already be up, and you wondered if he had liked your dinner the night before. There was something wrong, something off, but you didn't know what it was yet. You were having trouble thinking past the pain.

You walked towards your bedroom door, intent on hunting down the bottle of painkillers you kept in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. You tried to think about what happened before you fell asleep and finally your memories came back to you in a dizzying rush.

Making dinner, leaving Laura in charge, and locking the door behind you. Going to the store, a playing card that ending in an explosion, and Remy promising to take you home.

"I had the weirdest dream," you muttered as you stumbled out into the living room. The pain in your head spiked with every footstep and your mouth was so dry your tongue felt like it was sticking to the roof of your mouth.

The first thing you noticed was that Logan was sitting at the kitchen table and the second was that he wasn't alone. You froze just a few feet away from the table trying to make sense of what was in front of you.

Because Logan was there in his usual seat at the table and he had his hand outstretched over the surface. His hand was clutching the stranger's like a lifeline and he looked as if the person in front of him had just saved him from his own personal torment.

You slowly rounded the table, a twisting feeling of dread in your gut, as you got a look at the stranger.

It was you.

Well, not you. She had a scar crossing one of her eyes and her hair was a different color. She carried herself with more confidence, her shoulders not slumped and head held high. She was wearing the same yellow and blue X-Men suit you first saw your Logan in when you were trapped in the Void.

But she was still undeniably you. Just a variant you could have been in another universe.

"What?" You felt helpless as you looked to her and then to Logan. Pain had been overtaken by confusion and now you felt like you were going to pass out for an entirely different reason. "What's going on?"

"My wife," Logan said, finally tearing his gaze away from her to look at you. "She's back. A portal opened up last night and she walked right through it." His voice was filled with incredulous awe, and it felt like there was a knife digging into your chest. Your breath hitched and you tried to push past the feeling being carved out right where your heart resided.

You didn't think it could get any worse until you noticed the look of pure love and adoration he gifted her. You had only ever seen that look aimed at you and seeing it given so freely to someone else had you clenching your fists at your sides, anger washing over you.

"So, what?" You snapped, trying and failing to keep the hurt out of your tone. "She's just going to live here now? We'll all be one big happy family?" You didn't want to fight anyone for Logan's attention. Not again. Not after what happened with Jean in your other universe. You couldn't lose again. You wouldn't.

Logan stared up at you before he finally looked back at his wife. "We're still married," he pointed out, brushing his thumb gently over the wedding ring on his wife's hand. "And she was my first love," he continued, twisting the knife deeper and deeper. "I'm sorry, but I can't leave her again."

You watched the couple in front of you, frozen in that moment. Hurt and indecision rose within you and you felt trapped.

"So, what does that mean for me?" Your voice sounded so small and scared that you almost didn't believe it was yours. You had never felt this way with your Logan before and you didn't know what to do.

Logan finally tore his gaze away from his wife to look at you again.

"I'm sorry, but now that I have her back...," he trailed off, letting you assume the rest for yourself. "You can stay until you find somewhere else to go," he offered, as if it was any consolation.

You let out a hollow little laugh as you took a step away from him. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Logan, after everything you had been through together, was giving you up as if you meant nothing to him. The same ache and loneliness you felt back in your original universe was descending on you again. You thought you had put those feelings behind you, but now you were having to confront them again in the worst way.

Because this Logan had loved you like the other one never had and this one had promised never to hurt you. But here he was, crushing any hope you had that this Logan would be different.

You forced yourself to turn around, putting your back to them. You couldn't stand to look at them anymore.

You were faced with Laura standing there in the doorway of the apartment. She was silent, watching you, and you had a sinking feeling in your gut that told you this wouldn't go your way either.

"Laura, I--," you started as you approached her, not even sure where you would end up. "Do you want to come with me?" Was what you settled on, because evidently you couldn't stay here. You had been through so much with Laura. You had survived the Void together and fought together just to survive. Surely, that had to mean something to her. ‘Don’t leave me all alone,’ was what you wanted to beg, but you didn’t want Logan to have the satisfaction of seeing you brought down to your lowest point.

Laura took a few steps forward and you wondered if she would meet you in the middle. Instead, she walked past you and stood at the table, joining Logan and his wife. "I can't lose him again," Laura said, echoing your thoughts. Except, Laura could stay and you had to go.

You saw Logan's wife, the other you, the one he was choosing over you, reach out to flick Laura's ear. Instead of snapping at her, Laura turned a fond, soft smile on the other you and you felt another piece of your heart break.

That was your thing with Laura and that should have been your smile. Logan's wife had swept in and cleared you out, leaving no room for you.

You could feel the fight or flight instinct rising within you and you chose to get the hell out of there. It wasn't your home anymore, because someone had filled your role. You were no longer needed.

You didn't even know where you were going to go, but you somehow found yourself right at Wade's doorstep. You brought your hand up to knock, terror and despair coursing through you.

Wade answered the door in a suit and tie. You would have asked him what the hell was going on, but he didn't give you a chance to talk. He leaned on the doorframe, considering you with a grimace. "I thought you'd show up here after you found out."

"You know?" You weren't sure why it felt like such a betrayal, but you always thought Wade would have had your back. Why didn't he track you down and warn you? Why had no one just given you some kind of heads up that you would be completely ousted from the life you had built for yourself with Logan?

"Sure do, baby bird," Wade confirmed with a quick nod of his head. There was something off in his tone. This didn't feel like the same Wade you had come to know and reluctantly love. This almost felt like a stranger wearing a Wade mask. "I was there when she showed up. Just walked right out of that portal and into Logan's arms like she hasn't been dead for the past who knows how long."

You hated that you could picture that perfectly, as if Wade's memory was playing out in your head.

"Yeah, well, it looks like I'm not needed anymore now that he has who he really wants." You felt like an idiot for ever thinking you were more than just a placeholder for Logan's wife. You didn't want to cry in front of Wade, but you could feel the sting of tears in your eyes.

Wade tilted his head to the side, watching you with an intensity that was almost unnerving. "So, what are you gonna do now?"

"Can I stay here?" You tried, knowing that you couldn't go back to your apartment. You didn't want to ever step foot in there again, knowing that the bright, happy memories you had created were now tainted with misery.

Wade brought his foot back, kicking the door to his apartment open enough for you to see Vanessa seated at the table. "No can do," Wade answered with a wince. "You see, I'm trying to win her back over and I'm already sharing a one bedroom apartment with Blind Al, so it's a little cramped around here. But hey, if you join the X-Men, it usually comes with free room and board. They'll take anyone," he got out on a laugh, before he waved his hand. "Well, except for me. You shoot one person," he lamented, shaking his head in disappointment. "Or, hey, I hear Love Island is casting. Might be time to find you a new boo."

"So," you started, trying to reconcile the fact that you no longer had a home with Logan and now you couldn't find one either with Wade. "I can't stay here," you said, and it was no longer a question, it was just a fact of your new lonely, pathetic existence.

There was something so off about everything that had happened that day and you were trying to make sense of all of it. You had just spent the night before making a special dinner for your family and now you didn't even have one.

Everything was happening so fast that you felt like you weren’t even really processing it. Why hadn’t you just stayed at the apartment and fought for Logan? This was your life. Your home, your family, your love. Why were you just giving it all up so easily? You didn’t understand, but now you weren’t even sure you would be able to force yourself to go back.

"No," Wade admitted, with a sheepish grin. "It's not only Vanessa, you see, but Logan. I mean, Deadpool and Wolverine are a package deal now. There's no breaking up that superhero wet dream team and if I'm harboring his ex? Then that'll just make it more awkward than the time I used his toothbrush on Dogpool. Trust me, he made me regret that one. There are some places those claws of his should not go," he warned with a shudder.

Hearing Wade refer to you as Logan's ex broke something inside you. You could feel hurt begin to overwhelm you, swiftly replaced by anger. You let out a short, sharp scream of frustration. You didn't even realize you had formed a forcefield around you and pushed out with it until you realized Wade had been knocked several steps back.

"Y/N--" Wade started, but you turned away from him.

You didn't want to be placated and you didn't want to deal with anymore of Wade's nonsense. You let yourself go invisible, knowing that it was the only way you would feel safe now.

You wandered around the neighborhood for hours, trying to figure out where you belonged. You trudged from street to street before unerringly finding your way back to your apartment complex once night fell. You didn't dare go inside, but you stayed out on the sidewalk. People passed by you, never knowing you were even there, and you kept your gaze up on the window that shone brightest in the dark.

Logan was up there. He was with his wife and Laura and they were a family in their home enjoying a night together. You were no one with nothing and no home to share with anyone.

You weren't sure why you stayed there for so long, but you thought it had something to do with hope and an inane wish that he would come downstairs and tell you it was all some sick joke. You thought of his promise that he would always find you, even when you were hidden, but that hadn't been true either.

Logan was happy without you, because he had what he really wanted all along. So, why would he come find you when he didn't even need you anymore?

Or worse, Logan knew you were down here and just didn't care about you anymore.

With that revelation, you turned and walked away. There was a swirling mess of thoughts stuck in your head that dredged up the same old insecurities you thought you had shed once and for all.

You would never be good enough. You were unloved. You didn't matter. You weren't worth anything.

You had no one.

You felt tears slide down your cheeks as you aimlessly roamed from place to place. You next found yourself outside the X-Mansion, wondering if you should take Wade's advice and join up with the X-Men. As much as you longed to feel like you belonged somewhere, you didn't think you could go back to saving people with a smile on your face like you weren't slowly withering inside.

There was a whisper of your name on the air. You glanced over your shoulder, looking to see who called your name, but you found no one. It had been so faint that you might have imagined it, but there was a feeling, an electrified touch, that had briefly set your nerves alight.

You weren't sure what time it was, but you were exhausted. You found it pathetic and sad that you didn't have anywhere to go. You didn't even have money for a hotel room. All you could think to do was find a park and drop down onto a bench. At the very least, you knew you could protect yourself if anyone tried to attack you.

You formed a forcefield around you, ignoring the fact that it would only slip away while you slept, and let yourself drift away.

When you woke, you weren't alone. You jolted in place, suddenly wide awake, and scrambled to sit up. On the bench across from yours, a man was sitting reading a newspaper.

He quirked an eyebrow at you when he realized he had your attention.

"I was wondering when you would wake up," he said, lowering the newspaper.

He had dark eyes and darker hair. He wore a suit with a black trench coat, but the illusion of a businessman was ruined by the combat boots he was wearing. His skin was pale and there was a faint ring of red around his eyes that had you wondering if he was wearing makeup. His appearance, oddly enough, seemed false, but the grin on his face was genuine, if a bit unsettling.

"Were you watching me?" You couldn't help but wonder, half-torn between becoming invisible to make your escape and staying to get answers.

"Yes," he answered, unashamed by his actions. "I thought it fascinating that someone would let you stay out here all alone. You don't deserve that, so I stayed to keep watch over you."

You wanted to tell him you could take care of yourself, but you didn't feel so sure about that anymore. The reminder of your loneliness crept up on you and you could feel doubt settle over you. You were on your own now without a team. No one was going to come save you if you found yourself in trouble. You would simply have to claw your own way out.

"What's your name?" You decided to ask instead, studying him from across the small concrete path that separated you.

"Nathaniel," he introduced himself with a smile. "And you are?"

"Y/N," you returned, with a half-hearted wave.

"Now, I know we just met, but I do have one thing on my mind," Nathaniel started, leaning in towards you after placing his newspaper on the bench beside him. "What on earth are you doing out here all by yourself?"

You felt your lips twist to the side in a frown as you bit down on the side of your mouth to keep a lid on the emotions that threatened to boil over at the reminder of the previous day. "I--," you cut yourself off, not sure how to phrase your situation to a stranger without making it seem as if you had completely lost your mind. "I lost my home yesterday," you settled on with a grimace. "My family kicked me out."

Nathaniel made a sympathetic noise before he stood up. "May I?" He asked, gesturing towards your bench.

You shrugged your shoulders in answer but moved over to leave him enough space to sit down beside you.

"In my experience, family is a fickle thing," Nathaniel continued once he was at your side. "People come and go, but you have to be able to stand by yourself and forge your own path once it all falls apart."

"I don't know if I can do that this time," you whispered, ashamed to admit that you were on the brink of losing whatever control over your emotions you had managed since waking up.

Nathaniel turned so he could watch you. It was a bit unnerving, but you figured you had no one else for company. A smirk tugged at his lips as he studied you. "You're a fighter," he assured you.

"Oh?" You wondered, returning his stare. "And how would you know that?"

His smirk was still in place as he tapped his temple. "I'm psychic," he proclaimed, holding up his fingers and waving them before imitating a ghostly wail.

You couldn't help the laugh that escaped you and it felt so wrong.

"There we go," Nathaniel murmured with a pleased smile. "Look, I know you don't know me, but how about a drink? Coffee?" He prompted, moving to stand and holding out a hand to you.

You didn't want to wallow in your misery on the park bench all by yourself and you figured Nathaniel made a decent enough distraction. "You're paying," you told him, reluctantly grabbing his hand and letting him help you up. "Only because I don't have any money."

Nathaniel laughed, the sound briefly jarring to you, and cocked his head to the side. "In that case, I'll buy you breakfast too."

You found yourself in a diner booth sitting across from Nathaniel. He offered to buy you whatever you wanted, but you settled for a cup of coffee and a stack of pancakes. You weren't all that hungry and you couldn't get your mind off Logan. You wondered what he was doing right at that moment and then you dashed the thought. He was probably happy with his wife and Laura and had forgotten all about you.

"Hey," Nathaniel called, getting your attention. "Where did you go?"

You shook your head, biting your lip to distract yourself.

"Thinking about your family?" He prompted, shooting you a wary look. "I know I'm a stranger and it's none of my business, but do you want to tell me what happened? Maybe I can offer some perspective."

You scowled down at your pancakes, pushing them halfheartedly around the plate with a fork. You glanced around the diner, spotting a blonde woman wearing a white suit watching you curiously from a booth not far from yours. You shook your head at Nathaniel, not wanting anyone to overhear you.

"Let's get out of here," you told him, pushing yourself out of the booth. "I could use a walk to clear my head."

"Alright," Nathaniel readily agreed, standing as well. While he placed a twenty on the table, you made for the door.

There was that whisper again in the air that had you looking over your shoulder. Someone was calling your name, but you didn't see anyone you recognized. No one was even looking at you except for Nathaniel who was slowly approaching you.

"You okay?" Nathaniel interrupted, stealing your attention away.

"Yeah," you muttered, briefly nodding your head. "Just c'mon," you said, barely waiting for Nathaniel to follow you before you pushed through the door and walked outside.

You didn't think you would be able to confide in a total stranger, but there was something strangely freeing about unloading all the burdens on your mind to someone who didn't know anything about you. You even managed to drop the mutant bomb on him and were surprised when Nathaniel only took it in stride, as if he had expected all along you weren’t quite normal. He mostly seemed focused on what you told him about your family and how you lost them all in one fell swoop.

"Sounds like you're better off without them," Nathaniel mused. "Anyone who would let you go like that is an idiot."

"Maybe," you begrudgingly agreed. You didn't think it was possible, but Nathaniel had managed to make you feel better. Maybe letting out all your worries had briefly unburdened you. Or maybe since you lost everyone, you had been desperate to hear someone tell you it wasn’t your fault.

"They're all ungrateful idiots," Nathaniel continued. "You're special," he told you. "And you deserve more."

His tone brooked no argument, but you were a little thrown off by how serious he seemed.

"I don't know what I'm going to do now," you deflected, scowling down at your hands. "I don't have anyone or anywhere to go. And I've just spent the day with a stranger telling him my whole pathetic sob story."

"I'm not a stranger anymore," Nathaniel offered with a grin. "You know my name and everything."

"I know literally nothing else about you," you pointed out. You were starting to feel apprehensive about trusting someone you didn't even know. Your head was beginning to hurt and you could feel your hands trembling. You weren't sure why panic had hit you all at once, but you could feel your heart beating overtime in your chest and a cold sweat begin to break out along your skin. You were beginning to hyperventilate, confused and overwhelmed, when Nathaniel took you by the shoulders and forced you to look into his eyes.

"Hey, it's all going to be okay. Just trust me, alright? Y/N, you with me?"

You tried to focus on Nathaniel, but there was a ringing in your ears and you swore someone else was trying to get your attention. You shook your head, trying to keep yourself from falling right into a spiral. You forced yourself to take slow, deep breaths, realizing that Nathaniel was also taking them, trying to coach you through your anxiety attack.

You closed your eyes once you finally felt like you could stand on your own two feet without freaking out. You took a moment to center yourself before allowing yourself to open your eyes again.

"Thanks," you whispered, nodding at him when he shot you a skeptical look. "I'm fine. I'll be fine," you claimed, even though you knew it was a lie. You were tired of loving and losing. Your heart ached for Logan and you knew that you would never recover from losing him. But Nathaniel, odd as he was, had managed to help you feel like maybe you didn't have to spend the rest of your existence completely alone.

"I know you will," Nathaniel confirmed with another one of his smiles. "Because you're coming home with me."

You stared at Nathaniel, waiting for the punchline, but it never came. "I could be a serial killer," you warned him with a scoff. "And you're inviting me into your home?"

Nathaniel shrugged his shoulders, a smirk on his face. "I'm not scared of you."

He sounded so sure of himself that you couldn't help the disbelieving laugh that escaped you. "You're completely insane, aren't you?"

"So, is that a yes?" Nathaniel wondered, holding his hand out to you and waiting for you to take it. "Will you join me?"

You stared down at his hand for a beat too long to be socially acceptable. It felt like you were about to make a deal with the devil, but Nathaniel had been nothing but kind. He had given you a shoulder to cry on and was now giving you a place to go so you wouldn’t have to spend another night on a park bench.

You knew it was probably a bad idea, but you still found yourself reaching out to take his hand.

"Okay," you reluctantly agreed. "I'll go with you."

You thought it would be weird once you found yourself in Nathaniel's apartment, but it felt oddly familiar. He had a guest room that he had designated as yours and made sure you could take whatever you wanted from the fridge. You didn't know how to return his kindness, but you knew you would have to find a way.

Nathaniel had gone out to get dinner while you waited on his couch, idly flipping through channels. You were starting to doze off, exhausted, when you heard someone calling for you.

You squinted at the television, wondering if you were hearing things, when it happened again. You had stopped on a news report, catching sight of the woman from the diner. You assumed she was a news anchor, but the way she was looking at the camera gave you the eerie sensation that she was somehow actually watching you. When her gaze drifted over, as if looking at someone behind you, you rushed to turn off the television.

You cautiously glanced over your shoulder, half-expecting to see someone standing there. But you were alone.

“Y/N,” the voice called again. It was faint, like they were outside, but close enough for you to hear.

“What the fuck is happening?” You growled, growing frustrated. “Where are you?”

You stood, wondering if you should go looking for whoever was trying to reach you, when Nathaniel walked into the apartment. He held up the bag of takeout and nodded towards the kitchen table.

"Ready to eat?"

Time dragged on as days and weeks passed. You still thought of Logan practically every waking moment, but Nathaniel had done his best to distract you.

You were grateful for him, because you didn't know how you would have lived without someone there to fill the void in your life.

You weren't sure what day it was or even how long had passed since you last saw Logan, but you knew that you had started to heal.

"Sometimes," Nathaniel told you once you voiced that thought to him. "You have to let something break so you can piece it back together to get something new. To get what you truly want. What is it that you want, Y/N?" Nathaniel studied you with the same unnerving intensity he always did and you hated to admit that you were finding it less weird each time it happened.

Logan was the first thought that came to your mind. You wanted Logan and you wanted your home and you wanted your family. You wanted to show Laura how to cook and you wanted to follow Wade into crazy situations, knowing that he would have your back just like you had his back. You wanted to crawl into bed with Logan at the end of each day knowing that you were wanted and cherished.

Nathaniel made a disappointed noise before he shook his head. "There's no going back," he told you "I'm sorry, but it's just not going to happen."

You didn't like the way he sounded so sure of himself. Nathaniel didn't know Logan and he didn't even really know you. You had spent weeks with him, but years of your life had been devoted to a Logan. Your Logan had been better, you knew it, so maybe you were the one who wasn't worthy.

Nathaniel made a tsking noise before he reached out. He wrapped his hand lightly along the underside of your jaw, his thumb pressed to the other side of your neck over your pulse point. He considered you for a long moment, as if he was searching for something.

"He left you," Nathaniel reminded you, as if it hadn't been eating you up inside since it happened. "You are special. You deserve to be cherished," he continued, and you started to worry about the potentially romantic direction he was going with his lecture. A brief smile flitted across his face, as if he could read your mind, before his expression slipped back towards something more serious. "You're lost and you're broken," he added, gently sweeping his thumb over your pulse point. "Let me put the pieces back together."

You weren't even sure if you trusted Nathaniel, but you had spent so long hurting that you were tempted to say yes.

You suddenly felt like someone had brushed their hand over the back of your head and you heard someone call your name. It was the same voice as before and you knew better than to look for someone you wouldn't find. But Nathaniel's eyes strayed just over your shoulder, as if he had heard it too. There was a brief flicker of irritation on his face before he gifted you with a sincere smile.

"I've got you," he promised. "No one is ever going to get near you again."

"Okay," you finally agreed, if only because you were curious about what he had in mind. You also couldn't deny that you were just so desperate to not fall back into that desolate pit of isolation you had begun to dig for yourself. Nathaniel saw you and he wanted you. There wasn't much else you felt like you could ask for now.

And if Nathaniel's sharp smile sent a shiver through you for all the wrong reasons, then you were the only one who had to know about that.

Nathaniel seemed insistent that in order to move on, you would have to make yourself stronger. To him, that seemed to mean training day and night, improving upon your power in new and terrifying ways.

You spent hours, days, weeks, stretching the limits of your power. Your power had always been meant as a defense, to protect and contain, but now you wanted to wield it as a weapon.

Your progress felt excruciatingly slow, but you had to admit that you were pleased with the results. It started simple enough with just a thought. You wanted your forcefields to hurt. The barriers you would have erected to protect yourself should also be used to hurt anyone who dared get too close.

Nathaniel had rented out an abandoned location in a strip mall and set up targets for you to use. More often than not, he was watching you, as if he was waiting for something. Other times, he seemed content to leave you alone, trusting you would have something new to show him when he returned.

You practiced on the targets, first forming forcefields around your fists and breaking anything that stood in your way. Nothing held up to them and you started growing bored of that tactic. You started to think that if you could form a forcefield, then it could be any shape you wanted. Spikes, swords, knives all began to adorn the edges of your forcefields, facing out and ready to maim anything that was in the way.

Nathaniel seemed eager when you first formed a forcefield that was outlined with spikes and used it to repeatedly stab holes into the brick fence that lined the back of the property. You were sure he was never going to get his deposit back, but he didn't even seem to care. He only encouraged you to think bigger and do more.

With time, you were even able to produce two forcefields at once. It was exhausting and drained all your energy, but you liked the idea of protecting yourself while also using a different forcefield to hurt an attacker. From there, it was only natural to think of taking a forcefield, forming it around an enemy, and turning the projected spikes inward, letting them impale your target without a way to escape.

You felt stronger and invulnerable. You had never thought to test your power like this, and the feeling was nearly intoxicating. Logan and Laura and Wade were still on your mind, but now you knew that you didn’t need them. Like Nathaniel told you, you could stand on your own and forge your own path ahead.

No one would hold you back now.

The first time you felt the full force of your own power was when Nathaniel was taunting you into a reaction.

"He doesn't care about you anymore. He's moved on with the true love of his life and you are nothing to him. You don't need him anymore. You can show him that you're better off without him."

There were targets surrounding you, but you didn't care about them. All you could think about was Logan and the stupid lovelorn look on his face as he looked at his wife. He looked like he had been saved. Saved from you and whatever pathetic existence he was ready to settle for in her absence. You deserved better and you wanted to rip that stupid look right off his face. You wanted to make him and her regret it.

You let out a scream of frustration, punching out with your forcefield at one of the targets, but it got carried away from you. All the targets snapped back, taken out at once from the blast. It carried farther out, nearly ripping the door off its hinges and shattering the front windows.

You looked at Nathaniel, where he was splayed on the floor, staring up at you in awe.

"You did it," he praised as he began to push himself to his feet. You crossed over towards him, holding out your hand to help get him up off the floor. “I knew you could do it.”

"What was that?" You wondered, breathless and ecstatic. Your power had never quite felt like that before. You wanted to try it again, the rush of it addicting. If you could hone that and strengthen it, then you could use it on multiple enemies at once. You could become nearly unstoppable.

"A repulsion field," Nathaniel answered, reaching out to rest a hand on your shoulder. "With time, I expect you'll be able to direct it and control it. You’ll be able to take out a whole city if you want."

"Shit," you breathed, still shocked that you had managed something like that. "I didn't think I could use my power in that way. It was...exciting," you decided with a grin at Nathaniel.

"I told you that you're special," he reminded you. "I knew you had that in you all along."

"Thank you," you found yourself saying. You considered the targets on the floor and wondered if there would be any more use in them.

"I have extras," Nathaniel assured you. "Want to try again?"

You felt a pleased little thrill shoot through you at the thought. "Fuck yes," you answered.

A week passed since you found out about the extra perk your power allowed you. You felt more confident and assured of yourself. Gone was the self-doubt and in its place was a feeling that you could defeat anyone or anything.

You were walking to the store with Nathaniel, thinking about what you might want to make for dinner. Nathaniel was being unusually quiet and leaving you alone to your thoughts. You wondered if something was wrong, but then you spotted her.

It was you. The other you. She was alone. No Logan or Laura or Wade in her vicinity.

You couldn't help the way you froze on the sidewalk or the fury that rose up swiftly enough you felt nearly sick with it.

She was to blame for everything. She had stolen your life away from you and now she got to be happy while you spent the rest of your life wanting someone you would never have again.

"Is that her?" Nathaniel asked, rounding back to standing at your side. "The one who stole your life from you?"

You nodded your head, attempting to keep a lid on your anger.

"Why don't you make her regret it?"

The idea was so simple, but so damn tempting. You could just imagine the look on her face when she realized she was incredibly outmatched now. You could destroy her within seconds and she would never be able to stop you.

You knew it wasn't something you should entertain. You had lived your whole life as a hero. There was a line you would have never dared to cross before but after everything that had happened, you were starting to realize that line was blurred beyond recognition. As far as you were concerned, she had stolen your life from you, and it was only right that she realized what a mistake that had been.

"You're better than her now. Stronger," Nathaniel continued, leaning in closer to you. "She can't do half of what you can. Show her what you've learned."

"I don't know," you tried to deflect. You wanted your revenge, but there was still a tiny voice in your head saying it wasn’t right. It wasn’t what you were supposed to do.

"Aren't you tired?" Nathaniel hissed, his hand coming up to clutch your shoulder in a near-painful grip. "Tired of being the doormat. The hero. The martyr. Don't let them get away with it. Don't let her walk away."

You didn't even realize you had made up your mind until you were walking up to the other you. She was checking out a display of plants that had been left outside of the market for customers to choose, but she seemed to sense your approach, because she turned to consider you.

You weren't sure what she saw when she looked at you, but her eyes went wide with fear, and she immediately pulled up a forcefield. You stalked forward, intent on your target. You didn't care if anyone was watching, because you felt like you were completely justified in your actions.

You passed right through her forcefield and pushed her back. She fell to the ground, staring up at you in terror. You pulled your fist back, forming your own forcefield around it. You let spikes form along the outside facing towards her. All you had to do was bring it down onto her face. It would be a killing blow, and you would never have to think about her again. Logan would lose the love of his life, but maybe he would come back to you. Maybe you could return to him stronger, better, and without any more competition.

For a moment, as you looked right into her face, it was like gazing into a mirror. The scar was gone, her hair was the same as yours, and you were wearing similar clothes. She looked just like you.

You were convinced that she was you.

And that made you pull back, horrified at what you had almost done.

Her eyes were closed, ready for a blow that you weren't capable of dealing any longer.

"I'm sorry," you whispered before stepping away, propelling yourself right out of her forcefield.

"Y/N?" Nathaniel called, pulling your attention towards him. "What are you doing? She's right there. Kill her," he demanded, his lips pulling back in a sneer.

You shook your head, feeling something indescribable but ultimately terrified swell within you. What had you become? What had Nathaniel done to you? You had let him so far into your head that you had almost done something unspeakable.

You made yourself go invisible before you took off running. You didn't know where you were going or where you would even hide, but you knew that you needed to get away from Nathaniel. He had pushed you to do more, be more, and you had never once stopped to think about which road you were heading down and whether it would lead you right to the point of no return.

You could hear Nathaniel yelling for you to stop and come back, but you didn't listen. You wanted to get away from him and just think. It felt like you had let him take up residence in your head and now you wanted to figure out how the hell to evict him.

You ran until you felt like you were going to collapse. You finally stopped outside of a library. You rushed inside, catching a glimpse of the news anchor flipping through a book as you went right for the back corner. Two bookshelves met there and you sank right to the floor in front of them. You dropped your head into your hands and forced yourself to take deep breaths.

"Y/N," you heard someone call. It wasn't Nathaniel and it wasn't anyone else you immediately recognized. But it was familiar. They had been trying to get your attention all along.

"What," you snapped, already feeling like you were on the verge of crumbling. Nathaniel had been right that you were broken, but who was going to put the pieces back together this time? It felt like Nathaniel had managed to piece them back together all wrong and you didn't even feel like yourself anymore.

"Y/N," the voice called again.

You closed your eyes and focused on the voice. You reached out for it, desperate for any sort of lifeline. It was a spark right at the back of your mind. You rushed to meet it, eager to figure out who had been trying to talk to you.

"My name is Charles Xavier."

You startled, nearly letting the tenuous connection between you and Charles drop, but finally throwing everything you had towards it.

"This world is a lie," Charles continued once he realized you could hear him. "Do not let him break you. They're coming to find you."

"Who?" You couldn't help but ask, hope and fear clashing inside you, threatening to overwhelm you.

"A rather odd group of saviors," Charles answered, a hint of amusement clear in his words. "But stay strong and do what you can to break free of his hold. He has a way to keep me out, so once he finds you, I’m afraid I won’t be much help to you. Just hold on until they get there."

You didn't know how you were going to get yourself out. You were starting to think it was hopeless, because you hadn’t even realized you were trapped in the first place. The more you thought about it, though, the more obvious it became that something had been wrong since the morning you woke up and Logan’s wife was sitting in your kitchen. The fact that she had come back from the dead, Logan’s quick dismissal of you, Laura and Wade both turning their backs on you. Nathaniel’s convenient timing and the way he watched you as if you were nothing more than an experiment for him. A pet mutant he could poke and prod and play with while you were none the wiser.

“Who’s coming to find me?” You didn’t dare to assume that you were worth the rescue, but you couldn’t help yourself. You had to know. You had to hold onto the one little spark of hope you could feel burning defiantly inside you.

For one terrifying moment, your mind was still, and you felt crushingly alone. Just when you thought you had been abandoned, Charles left you with one final word.

"Logan."

Author's Note: There will be a fourth chapter! Did I have you going for a while there? I felt so evil writing this. I truly did. If you liked this, please let me know. Not to sound needy, but comments/reblogs/etc. literally fuel me to write more and inspire me so much to keep coming up with fun stuff. Thank you to everyone who has shown this series any support! Also, if you would like to be added/removed from the taglist, just let me know!

Taglist: @wonderfrost @mrsyixingunicorn10 @blackbleedingrose @arrozyfrijoles23 @elianamarie-blog

@sarahskywalker-amidala @whiskytoast @shizzybarnaclee @zbeez-outlet @halepack2011

@facelessfionna @i-left-my-cat-on-the-stove @whyam1heree @serendippindots @janilovecookies

@lollipopsandstuff @4ria790 @jtthompson @id-rather-be-in-middle-earth @the-gentle-spirit

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#wolverine #deadpool #deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #marvel #marvel imagine #wolverine imagine #x men #logan x reader #x reader #reader insert #imagine #my fic #when i'm with you i'm home 'verse

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endless-ineffabilities · 3 months ago

Text

Chemical Override (bonus chapter three) - In the Modern World

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: I knew I wanted to do a fun bonus chapter after part seven, but I wasn't sure what about. Then came this music video, with this feral slimey cat, and the rest is history. Not to mention this brilliant anon further fueled the idea for the plot!

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Seems so hard just to be If it matters You complete me 🦎

This is set between part two and part three of the story. Right after the rumours of the reader with Jacob surface and she clarifies to Ewan that it's all just PR, and before he gets boozy and sends the voicemail.

Ewan

Martin’s room is typical of any unemployed and aimless outcast in their late 20s. Particularly, one with a penchant for conspiracy theories, reptilian critters, diorama building, and surface-level anarchy.

“So he’s just like a regular guy,” Ewan jokes, making the director Luna laugh.

“Sure, I bet this is how your own room is like back in… Derby, was it?”

“Yeah,” Ewan nods. “I actually have a place here in London now, too. The room is the same. But I’ve got more than one lizard.”

“Good one, mate,” she claps him on the back, before walking further into the room. She stops in front of the craggly stands that Martin passes off a workstation. “Here is where he keeps his pets. As you know, he’s got spiders, iguanas, and the rogue chinchilla.”

“Look at that little guy,” Ewan stoops down to inspect the grey rodent. “You lost there, buddy?”

“That one is our cameraman Eddie’s,” she remarks. “The bugs - we borrowed from the local habitat. All under code, of course.”

“Mmm,” he looks around the room. Maroon sheets, used up art supplies like glue and various unclean brushes, pieces of silver wire, old cables, duct tape, painted figurines, a scattering of old tickets for an underground fighting ring. Propped up on the headboard of his bed is a stolen street sign. On the wall is an assortment of posters - some of bands, some of comic strips, but mainly just scraps of art Martin finds from the internet. A rabid dog with its teeth bared. Grotesque humanoid figures.

Standard, regular pictures.

“You like the posters?” Luna notices him perusing the wall. “You know, I had the idea of incorporating something you like here. Maybe a band or… you like Metallica, I heard?”

“Hmm? Oh yeah, I love them. So I get to choose a poster that would fit Martin?”

“Sure,” she shrugs. “Something that represents both yourself and Martin, why not? Make up a backstory for it. It can be anything you set your mind to, really. Let’s start with - what would you have on your wall?”

He considers just taking her up on her suggestion of Metallica, maybe a live image of the band in their 2009 Mexico show. But he didn’t want to settle on that idea just yet. What is he fixated on at the moment? What film, what song, what popular character…

Then it strikes him, causing the blood to rise to the surface of his pale cheeks. Of course. There is you.

But if he props up a full-blown image of you, just you, maybe from a photoshoot or a candid photograph, would that be too much? Would he be crossing the line?

Last he heard from you, he found out that the supposed relationship you have with Jacob Elordi is but a ruse for the sake of publicity. Thank the gods, as Aegon screamed before Aemond set him ablaze.

But in this instance, Ewan’s relief is not entirely unfounded. You aren’t with anyone. He knows he should make a move, a proper one, and not just drop hints of his admiration in interviews like the one he just did for Vanity Fair. But what can he do? You’re all the way across the Atlantic, far from his desperate reach.

As selfish as it sounds, he couldn’t bear the thought of hearing you’re with someone else and knowing it’s true. The confession is yet to stumble out of him, but he knew he was already yours.

He calls you whenever he can, whenever he misses you, which is quite often, as evidenced by the lengthy log of long-distance calls on his phone, from England to America.

“What about something House of the Dragon related?” he asks. “Could serve as a nice easter egg for the fans, if they see this.”

“I don’t see why not? If you can convince us of Martin’s motivation for it, of why he would put that poster on his wall, then we can add it right away.”

He smiles shyly, glancing down at his sneakers. He knows his own motivation for putting your image up on his wall, but what about Martin’s? He tests some ideas out, gauging Luna’s reaction, “What if he’s a sci-fi, fantasy fanatic? If he’s a devout follower of George RR Martin, and so… naturally, he had a look at House of the Dragon as well?”

She purses her lips, tilting her head in thought. “That’s something right there, yeah. But we kind of saw him as being against television, you know? Against popular media in general, and he's a guy with an affinity for obscure dark video games and comic books.”

“Hmm, yeah, yeah,” he does his best to form the proposition in his mind. How does he offer the suggestion without being too obvious? “So what if, you know, he happened to see this one character in the show, and he’s just enamoured with them for some reason? This makes it remarkable, because he does admire her, but as an act of rebellion, he still doesn’t watch the show and only bothers himself with her scenes and the art style to her character, and - ”

“Wait, her?” Luna smiles, her confusion dwindling. She’s heard the rumours. Or fan theories. Or whatever the kids call it nowadays. She hasn’t been living under a rock, and Ewan definitely hasn’t kept mum about his crush either.

“Yeah,” he scratches the back of his neck, unable to look her directly in the eye, “I was thinking of having a poster for a character from the show.”

“I thought you wanted a poster of a dragon or something,” she jokes. “So, which character? Apologies, I’m not too familiar with a lot of them.” Ewan would recognise the knowing glint in her gaze, if he wasn’t too busy pretending to inspect a scrap of faux moldy wallpaper sticking out of the wall. Set design really outdid themselves in the details, all to give the impression that Martin is a negligent slob.

“Uhhm,” he dithers, a crooked smile breaking out despite him chewing on his bottom lip, “she’s, uhhh, one of the new characters this season.”

“Oh?” she plays along, nodding, “Which one? From what I saw, there’s two camps, right? And your camp is green, is she in that?”

“No, actually,” he shakes his head, “she’s in the opposing team, you could say.”

“That’s interesting,” she nods, slowly, trying to encourage him to simply spit it out. “You know, Ewan, mate, if you don’t actually tell me which character you want to put up, then this poster idea isn’t going to work out.”

His gaze snaps back to her, and he awkwardly titters under his breath. “Right, right. Uhhm, she’s called Alyna… Alyna Rivers.”

Luna’s mouth forms an O, as if she’s enjoying this little gotcha moment. She realises that Ewan, while reserved, wears his heart on his sleeve. What a lucky girl you are.

“And… why would Martin want her specifically up on his wall?”

The emphasis on Martin came off as superficial, her tone humorous, leading Ewan to believe that she actually pertains to him and not the character.

“He might see her as some sort of muse, you know… she’s a fighter, she’s got a fire in her…”

“And he’s got a crush on her.”

“Oh… well…”

“He likes her.”

“Uhhh… yeah I guess…”

“You guess?” she raises her eyebrows, grinning, “come on Ewan, what does Martin feel about her?”

“She’s his… his ray of light,” he decides. “His world is a mess. He’s lost. His one release entails getting beat up bloody every other day. But the idea of her is his beacon of hope. Untainted, you know. She’s… she’s perfect. She wouldn’t hurt him like the rest of the world already has.”

Luna nods in understanding, satisfied. She casually slings an arm over his shoulder, then says, “You know something, mate? That sounds a lot more than a crush to me.”

“Mmm,” he smiles, agreeing, the welcome image of you flooding his mind like always, “it sure does.”

The entire cast and crew for In the Modern World have the subsequent three days to accomplish filming.

Ewan sits in the makeup trailer, awaiting his cue, his vision now impaired by the unkempt strands of his long black wig. Spiky grunge cuffs decorate his wrists. He wears an ill-fitting pair of jeans and a t-shirt, the costume for the first scene to be filmed.

He has already gone through the process of trying to get in Martin’s head, seeing what makes him tick, what drives his actions, priming himself to jump inside his skin. He’s ready. At this point during filming, he has the habit of eliminating any distraction to maintain focus, and his phone is tucked inside his backpack on airplane mode.

Defying his routine, he retrieves his phone, nervous fingers clicking away until they land on your contact. He hovers over the voice call option, opting at the last second to do a video call instead.

The front camera turns on, catching him off guard with how messy he appears. Maybe this was not the best idea, he falters, what am I doing? I’m gonna scare her off.

“Ewan?” It’s too late to change his mind when your cheerful voice answers, your expression curious and inviting. His ray of light. “Is that you?”

He timidly brushes his hair - his wig - away from his face. “Hello, darling. I thought I’d ring you for a second.”

You laugh openly, drawing your face closer to your phone to get a better look at him, “Are you shooting the music video right now? Oh my god, look at you!”

He smiles sheepishly, teeth clamping over his bottom lip. “What do you think?”

“Wow,” you shake your head, the sunlight reflecting on your face from wherever you are. Likely walking around outside the studio, as he spots the white buildings in the background. “You look so… cool. This is like Aemond in the modern world, rebelling against his mother with the help of cheap hair dye.”

He appreciates your clever assessment, feeling much better about himself. “Don’t I look shabby?”

“Ewan,” you click your tongue, “judging by what you told me about your character, I think you’re supposed to look shabby.”

You’re right. He shakes his head, mostly at himself, for being so concerned if you still find him attractive even in this get-up.

“I feel like Kirk Hammett. Very rock n’ roll.”

You smirk, “I’d say this is your hottest look yet.”

He blushes profusely. You think he looks hot. It may just be a passing quip, a casual thing to say, but it has him in a grip. His reaction would nearly rival that of Martin’s, who would probably jump right on to making a mini-figurine of Alyna. After just a single interaction with you, Martin would probably spend the next few weeks occupied with objectionable fantasies. You and him, rolling around in the car. Only, car jitsu wouldn’t be the physical activity at play.

Ewan shifts in his seat, adjusting his trousers. In the end, he’s no better than Martin after all.

“Ewan?”

“Oh sorry, darling, I was just - ”

“I said that I have to go back inside,” you say, “I do appreciate your call, though.”

His face falls, despite the fact that he has to be on set soon anyway. “Of course, darling, go ahead.”

“Kick some ass for me?”

For you? Anything. “You got it, baby.” The name jumps out of him before he can stop himself, and he justifies it as a ‘Martin’ reaction. He’s in character, isn’t he?

You roll your eyes. It is your turn to blush and fail at hiding it, and you do. “Okay, rockstar. Talk to you soon, okay?”

“Okay,” he says, then adds, “Wait!”

You raise your phone again. “Oh, what is it?”

“I, uhhh, I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” you smile, and he commits the image to memory. This moment is his, just his; Martin can bloody wait.

Martin

Martin throws himself down on his bed, limbs limp and flailing about. It must have been the hundredth time for that afternoon - getting up, rolling back on the mattress, prodding his pets, jumping around the room to incoherent punk music, cigarettes burning out between his chapped lips.

He has nothing to do today, not until it’s time. Just like every other day, every other week, in this drudgery of an existence. Everything means nothing, and the twisted truth of it is that he thinks himself free.

Free of the cycle. Free of meaningless friendships. Free of love. Free of her.

The ghost of his ex-lover still haunts him, golden haired and rosy-cheeked, bundled up in her puffy coat like some cheap caricature of an angel. But she was no angel. Angels would not abandon someone they claim to love, with a mere snap of their manicured fingers.

But she haunts him. What they had, and what they could have had. Was it even his? Would it have come out with a thin sprig of dark curls? He did not care to know now.

She was his everything once. But isn’t that overrated? Falling in love is so overrated.

His fingers clumsily mess with the controls for his toy helicopter as he lays down. The apparatus hovers above head, filling the room with a buzzing noise. His lit cigarette stumbles from his lips, and the noise is joined with his frantic, fuck, fuck, fuck, as he tries to shake it out of his hair. He succeeds, but the helicopter teeters in the air, until it slams against the poster of Alyna Rivers displayed over his headboard.

He lets it fall, becoming distracted with her image. It’s a promotional still of her in her complete hunting attire - a fitted leather jerkin over a dark red tunic, tight breeches tucked into knee-high boots, a dagger sheathed in her belt. But his favourite addition is the longbow she grips in her hand, her fierce expression making it known that she is prepared to draw it back at a moment’s notice.

Martin gets on his knees on the bed. He kisses two fingers, then gently touches them to her poster in a gesture of reverence.

If only…

“Good morrow, my lady,” he says in a sing-song voice, “always a pleasure to come upon your visage.”

He leans closer, tracing her figure with precision, “I bet you can fix me. I bet you can make me feel alive.”

He chases after euphoria that night, over and over, fucked up and depraved and empty. But it hits different this time. It’s better.

As white spots flicker and dance in his vision, and the fog in his mind threatens to swallow everything, it’s not the vision of his ex that flashes before him - it’s Alyna he sees.

Her face is sharp and real, cutting through the haze like a beacon. She holds him together as exhaustion takes over him and the oxygen is slowly cut off from his windpipe. She anchors him, even on the precipice of oblivion.

The opponent is alarmed by Martin’s eyes rolling back revealing the whites of his eyes. He loosens his hold, letting go even if Martin refuses to tap out.

“Fuck, you alright?” he rasps.

Martin doesn’t hear him. His bloodstained, cracked lips curl into a ghost of a smile as his hand trembles, reaching out to press against the fogged-up windshield.

With a fragile sense of peace, he murmurs, “You fixed me.”

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @onlyrealjoy @hotdismylife @thepurplecrown @just-fics-station @clarkysblog @urmomsgirlfriend1 @misfitbimbosblog (continued in comments ... )

Some notes in the margins...

I know I said I would include the reader's reaction to the music video, but I decided to use the time to work on part eight... I still might get to writing this idea as a drabble though 🤷🏻‍♀️

Not Ewan having beef with his own character HAHAHA this lad I swear

Part eight out very, very soon! It'll be a wild ride. Oh, I'm not even kidding :)

#ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell imagine #ewan mitchell x reader #chemical override #in the modern world #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen x reader

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saintescuderia · 8 months ago

Text

pancakes (pt. 2)

AKA - the story of how the naive australian rookie befriended the gym junkie F1 hospitality worker with the shoe collection - and inadvertently broke the grid's most treasured and unspoken rule: you don't go for y/n.

series masterlist here :) // the pancakes recipe here :)

A/N: apologies for the delay; was marshalling the aus gp lol. enjoy.

P2 - hamstring and piriformis stretches

“Y/N Tessio?”

“She works in hospitality.” Oscar clarified without an ounce of stress. He wasn’t embarrassed by this. Yes, he was close friends with a member of the F1 Hospitality. Yes, he was asking that part of his Formula 1 contract include that you become his personal trainer. Yes, he wasn’t going to accept any contract without that condition.

Otmar didn’t know that last fact when he had laughed off Oscar’s request the last time they had spoken. It was the last nail in the coffin that showed to Oscar what had been gnawing at his gut for so quite some time: this team wasn’t quite right. Now, at lunch with Zak Brown, who had wanted more official meeting in the McLaren motorhome, Oscar laid out the same request. And Zak Brown seemed understand the severity of it: Oscar Piastri would not accept anything unless you were right there with him.

This morning was only proof of it all. His anxiety had kept him up and it was only after finding you that everything seemed to work itself out. After you had made him run a lap around the track, you promptly dumped some melatonin gummies in his hand and sent him off to bed to sleep. And sleep he did. Oscar had woken up feeling more refreshed than he had in a long, long while.

Refreshed, Oscar had taken your advice and called Lily. He mentioned love languages and she gushed. The call ended with them sounding more on page and stronger than ever. Oscar also took your advice in calling his dad to ask about a lawyer. His dad had been surprised that his son had been so forward thinking.

Oscar had admitted it was your idea. His dad stopped being surprised; of course it had been your idea.

“Oh, they’re good people, Osc. The sort you need around you in a place like Formula 1! Make sure you have them on your team!” Oscar was already thinking what his dad was suggesting, agreeing wholeheartedly. He needed you on his team.

And that was before Oscar arrived at the Alpine motor home for one of the staff to let him known that hospitality had delivered some specially made protein pancakes and fresh orange juice for his breakfast. There was a note under cutlery with your scrawl of ‘take magnesium.’

He asked his Alpine trainer for some, the very same one you thought was an utter dickhead. Said trainer, François, somehow didn’t have any supplements. Sighing, Oscar dug into your famous pancakes that had the perfected macros for an athlete of his sort. He would just ask you for magnesium later - and take your usual heat of having a “fucking dropkick of a trainer.” It was just more and more proof that Alpine wasn’t looking good for him. Even he knew it was bad for a trainer to not be prepared like that.

Now, in a room full of papaya orange, Oscar looked at the American CEO and waited patiently for Zak Brown to tell him what he thought about the request to have you working alongside McLaren Racing as part of Oscar’s contract.

“What, um, what qualifications does she have?” Zak asked, shifting slightly to type on his computer. Oscar watched as Zak’s eyes grew as he stared at the screen. “Oh, I know her! She makes an solid cappucino!”

“Melbournian barista.” Oscar smiled. It was true, you had gotten your barista license back when you were living in Melbourne. And if there was one thing Melbournians were proud of, it was their coffee. “She grew up near Albert Park.” Oscar added the tidbit you had dropped upon first meeting and Oscar was basking in the Australian accent.

"Says she was born in Monaco." Zak said.

"What?" Oscar frowned, completely taken aback at this. You had never mentioned anything to him about being born in Monaco. You were from Melbourne, near the beach. That's what you had told him.

Nothing about Monaco, Monte Carlo.

In Europe.

But Oscar didn't have time to process that because Zak Brown continued on. “Still, it doesn’t say anything about Y/N being trained in anything health or sports-related.” The McLaren CEO said, his eyes skimming over his computer screen that likely read your resume that was stored in the shared F1 database. Formula One Group and the FIA had allowed team principals and CEOs to access these files when they needed to identify a snitch that had violated the NDA.

It was all too often that a team suffered a blow by a Hospo staff member whistleblowing some important fact they overheard while serving the refreshments.

“She knows about Daniel.” Oscar said. Zak blinked, clearly taken aback. He swallowed and Oscar quickly added, “And no, she didn’t tell me. I figured it out that she knew and told her.”

“Okay, you’re right. I do feel better.”

“Better enough to do another lap?” You grinned at your friend whose sweaty face dropped into a deadpan. You had both slowed down as you came to the starting line. Now that was nearing the 6am mark, there were more and more people starting to come out.

But you were with a driver. You knew all too well that it would be fine. Drivers are untouchable. You wanted to milk this for all it was worth. “Come on, Piazza! A light jog!” You added, wanting to enjoy this just all the little bit more.

“You’re insane. No.” To prove his point, Oscar actually came down to sit on the road. And then he lay flat on his back. You watched him and exhaled, accepting one lap was all you were going to get. Hell, that was more cardio than you normally did. And besides, you knew Oscar had a rough night and was running in Sambas. Athlete aside, you were just surprised he managed the lap in as is.

So you came to sit beside him, except you didn’t lay back and try to catch your breath as he did. No, instead you stretched your legs out and then leaned forward to stretch out your calf muscles.

Oscar looked over at you and rolled his eyes. The ever insane gym junkie Y/N. He knew he should be doing the same. His flexibility had really taken a toll and besides that, he was stiff and restless from all the travelling and the stressful conversations with his girlfriend and team principals. Oscar sat up and brought his legs out just like you and leaned forward to stretch his hamstring. Just like you.

You said nothing about this but you didn’t need to; the smug grin on your face was enough. You switched legs shortly. Oscar copied. You brought both legs together. So did he. You leaned back and brought your knee up to stretch your piriformis. Oscar begrudgingly did so. And so it went as you and Oscar stretched your entire bodies out right there at the starting line of the Sochi Circuit. It was when they finished the reverse pigeon pose on both sides that you stretched your legs out and made no move for another stretch. You both settled in a comfortable silence and watched the sky.

Oscar watched the sunrise and smiled, feeling a lot lighter after the run and the stretching. He glanced over at you watching the sun and felt a sense of appreciation for you.

“Think carefully of who you choose to drive for.” You said, breaking him from the reverie. “This will be your first F1 team and it will reflect on how other teams in the future will see you.” Oscar was quiet as he thought about your words. Some birds were starting to fly across and Oscar noted how your eyes trailed them.

Oscar took a steading moment and then said what had been on his mind the entire night. “Daniel Ricciardo is going to be dropped. Zak Brown wants me to be his replacement.”

You didn’t react.

You didn’t have to.

All you did was keep watching the birds.

Oscar pursed his lips. Of course you weren’t surprised. You were never surprised. And you already knew about Daniel.

“You know about Daniel and McLaren.” It really wasn’t a question. You offered him a soft smile in response and sat up to stretch out your hand to gently squeeze his. Oscar frowned.

“My platonic brother in Christ,” you began with a sad smile and he grimaced, “you have a good heart. Don’t let this place take that shit away from you.”

You let go of his hand and Oscar sat up to face you. “Why didn’t you— you didn’t say anything.”

“It’s not my place, man, I just make the coffee.” You said with a full fledged smile. Oscar was at a loss for words. You often worked shifts at McLaren - he knew that because those were the days you had double sessions at the gym. Oscar never found it in himself to ask. Now, he did.

“Do you not like… McLaren or anything?” Oscar asked. “Should I not drive for them.”

You were silent for a moment looking ahead of you before you spoke. “No, nothing wrong with the team.” It was clear there was something wrong with something. Oscar couldn’t ask because you stood up and held out a hand to him. He took it and let you pull him up. “Come on. Reserve drivers are only needed after lunch. I’ll give you some melatonin to help you sleep and then you can call your girlfriend.”

“And find a lawyer.” Oscar added. “But I think Zak Brown could get me one.”

“Always have your own lawyer.” You said with such a firm conviction that it had Oscar looking at you with curious eyes.

Sometimes, he wondered how you knew so much about the ins and outs of life in Formula 1.

“So you’re saying Y/N actually follows the NDA?” Zak asked, bringing his hands together to rest under his chin.

“Yep. Wakes up at 4am everyday and works out for two hours. Doesn’t drink or smoke and if given the chance, would probably run a half marathon at every track. She's worked with F1 for years so she knows the diet and routine of a driver.” Oscar paused and then tried to remember some more facts now that he had his chance, his opening.

Never mind that he didn't know you were apparently born in the heart of Formula 1.

Though, that reminded him— “She's fluent in French. And Arabic. Which will be good for the Middle Eastern and European races." Oscar added, thinking of your background. Or what he did know of your background. "And she has an international license.” Or he thought you did, vaguely remembering you mention something about cars in Japan. Japan!

“I think she also speaks Japanese pretty good.” Oscar said, remembering Spa last year and seeing you conversing with Yuki Tsunoda as you made him a matcha.

“Hmm.” Zak pursed his lips. His eyes scanned over the resume once more and then nodded. “Look, Oscar, it’s no secret that I want you for McLaren. I think you’d be a very good fit here. If you think Y/N would be a good fit with McLaren also, then I’m onboard with that.”

Oscar nodded, finally letting himself let go of the seriousness and let out a smile. He honestly couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This was actually happening.

But if his father had taught him anything, it was to not get too carried away. Oscar kept composed as he kept his face as neutral as possible and smiled politely. “That sounds really awesome, Zak, thank you. When could we get everything in paper so I can go over it with her?” And his lawyer.

“I’ll speak to some people today and we’ll get a rough contract outline ready. Helen, the PR manager, will send it to you and Y/N,” Zak looked back at his screen, “to the email on the resume here. And then we can organise a meeting and move forward.” Oscar smiled once more, feeling the stress and tension dissipate from his shoulders.

“But,” Zak then added, “I can’t really promise anything. The lawyers will need to sort this out since she’s already under contract with the Formula One Group and if they won’t release her then there might not be much we can do about it.”

Oscar nodded, frowning slightly. “I understand.” Admittedly, that was something he hadn’t thought about. He’d been too preoccupied trying to get Y/N a place with him on whatever team he joined that he didn’t think about her tie with Formula One Group.

“If all goes well, though,” Zak was quick to add, seeing Oscar frown, “we could even sponsor some study for her and help her work her way up. If she’s as dedicated as you say, and has that sense of integrity and spirit, then McLaren would be perfect for her.”

Oscar knew Zak was trying to butter him up with the promise of having Y/N. And Oscar had to admit, it was working. This was about you, after all.

There was a knock on the door. Oscar recognised Zak’s PA but couldn’t recall a name. She offered him a warm smile and then apologised. “I’m so sorry to interrupt but Lando wants to speak with you.”

“Yes of course!” Zak beamed. “Send him in.” He stood up and Oscar’s manners kicked in and he stood up also, assuming the meeting was now over. This reminded Zak of him and he returned his attention at the young Australia. “Unless you had any questions or anything else you wanted to add?” Zak’s question made Oscar want to laugh since they were both already standing up and Lando Norris was already through the door.

Oscar knew how these politics were going to go. If he did sign with McLaren, Lando Norris was going to be the number 1 in everything. And not just in driver priority.

“Nope, all good. Thank you again for listening and being so receptive to my request about Y/N.” Oscar held out his hand. Zak shook it and smiled.

“I have a good feeling about this, Oscar. I’m looking forward to the future.” Zak said. He came around the table to greet Lando and Oscar smiled at his soon to be teammate.

This wasn’t the first time Oscar had met Lando Norris, such was the small world of karting and racing. However, it was the first time that Oscar had seen Lando since Zak Brown had made it clear that he wanted him to be Norris’ new teammate.

Oscar wasn’t sure how to feel about Lando, knowing that the driver was equal points talented as he was, well, spoiled. Not that a spoiled F1 driver was a novelty, but Oscar had noticed that Y’N’s mornings before a McLaren shift always ended with a long sparring session with the punching bag.

“Alright?” Lando said with a lazy acknowledgement. “Heard the news.”

Oscar’s kept his face straight. Of course Lando Norris would see no need for subtlety. The PR training all drivers went through for the media usually extended to the Paddock as a whole as conversations were always sanitised. Everyone knew that what you said wasn’t what you meant. Talking around the issue was part of the life of Formula 1.

Oscar was used to this. So seeing Lando so abrupt about this, and in front of Zak Brown, was quite telling. Especially when it was doubtful that Daniel himself knew anything about his imminent redundancy.

“Yeah, I’m good. Nice seeing you around.” Oscar said, keeping himself polite and respectful - and making no comment about the news. He looked at Zak Brown once more and offered his thanks before letting the PA show him out of the room. Oscar looked back to see Lando staring at him. Oscar considered just what he was signing up for.

Still, Oscar could turn around and leave the office with a weight off his shoulders. Even though he knew how it would look, walking out of McLaren, he was surprisingly more at ease than ever. Sure, Oscar knew the fallout of leaving Alpine and joining McLaren would be bad; especially if it meant kicking out another driver - and one that was a personal hero, but he felt a lot more at ease. No matter the fallout, no matter Lando Norris, he knew it would be okay. Because he was going to have you right there next to him.

There was no way Oscar was going to survive Formula 1 without you. And your gym addiction.

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