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chvoswxtch · 1 month ago

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an olive branch

pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader

summary: matt’s efforts to find out what he’s gotten himself into don’t go as planned.

warnings: swearing, more angst than me as a teenager, fury being fury, matt being the sassy lil shit he is

word count: 4.4k

a/n: it's only been three days since the born again finale and i'm already having withdrawls. if you are too, here's some matty for you. <3 as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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“Agent Y/L/N.”

Fury gave her a subtle dismissive nod, which she returned with one of her own, a silent communication passing between them before she turned to slip back into the elevator. Once those doors closed, Fury gestured towards his desk with his hand.

“Please, have a seat.”

Instead of taking a step towards one of the two leather chairs in front of the desk, Matt stayed exactly where he was and decided to cut straight to the chase.

“What am I doing here.”

“I wanted to talk to you. I understand you and Agent Y/L/N had a bit of a…misunderstanding last night.”

Matt let out a dry scoff as a tiny humorless smile tugged at the edge of his mouth, and his dark brows raised above the rims of his red tinted sunglasses.

“Misunderstanding? She tased me and knocked me out.”

“You got in her way.”

The coolness of his tone made Matt tighten his grip around his cane. Fury casually turned to walk back to his desk where he made himself comfortable in the plush leather seat. There was a faint creak when Fury’s leather jacket rubbed against the leather of the chair, and it made Matt’s jaw clench as he grimaced. The Advil hadn’t kicked in yet, and his throbbing headache made his sound sensitivity worse.

“I didn’t agree to be an accessory to murder.”

“And you won’t be.”

Folding up his cane with a little more force than necessary, Matt stalked towards Fury’s desk.

“You really expect me to just stand aside while she-”

“Mr. Murdock, I understand that you argue for a living, and I understand that you’re good at it. But I'm a very busy man, and I'm pressed for time. Agent Y/L/N and I had a little chat while you were out, and we’ve come up with a compromise.”

Matt cocked his head slightly to the side, confusion nestling between his dark brows.

“A compromise?”

“While the two of you are on missions together, Agent Y/L/N will do her best to not use lethal force. But, if there is no other alternative, she will do what she has to do, and you will not intervene. Understood?”

Matt tossed his folded cane into the closest leather chair next to him, and he placed one of his hands on his hip while his other came up to pinch the bridge of his nose and adjust his sunglasses.

“Why did you drag me into this?”

Fury’s brows lifted almost imperceptibly at Matt’s question, but they quickly furrowed in an entanglement of confusion and annoyance a moment later.

“Drag you into it? Mr. Murdock you were already waist deep in the middle of it. I just thought you’d wanna be part of the team”

“A team of killers.”

Fury let out a deep exhale through his nose, a subtle sign of his patience waning. Resting his elbows on his desk, he interlocked his fingers together as he took a moment to regain his neutral composure. A brief thought flashed through Matt’s brain that Fury may be to blame for Y/N’s unwavering and irritating calmness.

“What is it you think we do here?”

“I thought you protected people.”

“We do. By any means necessary.”

Matt dragged his palm down the lower half of his face in frustration, the coarseness of his grown out facial hair scratching against his palm as if he were caressing the needles of a cactus. He hated the growth stage. The smoothness of a clean shave never lasted long enough, and the time frame between prickly stubble and a tolerable beard was too long.

“There’s a system-”

“And it’s broken. You know that better than anyone. Justice isn’t always blind, and some people never get it. That’s why you go out and take it by force at night, isn’t it?”

Matt abruptly paused, his words dying on his tongue. He had no rebuttal for that. And it pissed him off. Seeing Matt’s own patience fading quickly, Fury let out another deep exhale and leaned back in his chair.

“Look, you care. About this city, and about the people in it. That's why you protect it. This is personal for you.”

Matt was quiet for a moment, running a hand stressfully through his hair before placing his hands on his hips and shifting his weight to his other foot.

“Yeah. It is.”

“It’s personal for her too.”

Matt’s ears perked up at that. He tilted his head to the side, puzzlement evident in his expression.

“What do you mean? Personal how?”

“It’s just personal.”

Jesus Christ, these people were brick walls. Nothing was ever a simple answer. And every single answer was calculated and infuriatingly indeterminate. Matt threw his hands up in exasperation and let out a bitter dry and humorless laugh that echoed with incredulity. He turned away for a moment, cracking his neck and shaking his head, and when he turned to face Fury again, his tone was rough and snarky as his temper flared.

“That's not good enough. You can’t keep leaving me in the dark. You have to give me something-”

“I don’t have to give you a goddamn thing.”

Matt’s nostrils flared when Fury abruptly shut him down with that combative statement. He let out another dry laugh, clicking his tongue against his cheek as he shrugged his shoulders and forced a tight lipped defiant smile on his lips.

“Then I’m not doing this. Not unless you tell me what’s really going on.”

Matt pointed his index finger in Fury’s direction and took a step closer.

“I don’t trust you, or her, and I’m not partnering with someone who can so casually take a life.”

“It wasn’t an issue with Frank Castle or Elektra Natchios.”

There it was again. That simple delivery of something personal about him with an undercurrent of what could either be a taunt or a threat. Her words echoed in his ears as he visibly stiffened.

Just assume we know everything.

Matt’s skin felt like it was crawling with invisible wrathful insects slithering under the surface. Fury might as well have brushed the sharpened tip of a steel blade against the back of Matt’s neck the way his spine straightened and the soft hairs stood to attention pin straight.

Knowing about Frank was one thing, that was easily explainable. Frank and Matt had come to one another’s aid once or twice, and Daredevil crossing paths with the Punisher was something the people in the city noticed. Neither one of them were exactly subtle.

But Elektra…that wasn’t public. That wasn’t connected to Daredevil. That was connected to Matt. Whoever knew about her either had been watching him longer than he thought, or they were really good at digging up things that should stay buried. Either way, Matt was unsettled, and immediately went on the defense with his hands clenched in tight fists at his sides.

“That was different. I didn’t condone what they did.”

“But you weren’t bitching about it in someone’s office either.”

A muscle feathered in Matt’s jaw as he clenched it, and Fury eyed him silently for a moment before slowly rising from his chair, placing his palms flat on his desk as he leaned forward slightly.

“Tell me something, Mr. Murdock. When you beat that man within an inch of his life all those years ago, and you sent him to the intensive care unit where he had to eat through a straw for a month, did you feel remorse? Or did you sleep better at night, knowing that the son of a bitch couldn’t sneak into his daughter’s room anymore after his wife went to sleep?”

Matt’s blood had felt like molten lava pumping through his veins up until the moment Fury brought up that night. It was the night Matt had become a vigilante. He hadn’t been the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen yet. He’d just been the man in the black mask. Fury’s words floated across the space like an unforgiving winter wind, their briskness making his skin prickle with goosebumps and the cold verity of them freezing everything inside him, making the color drain from his face.

Fury’s footsteps were calm and measured as he rounded the desk, but in Matt’s ears, the sound of his boots against the marble floor were like explosives going off in a minefield with each step. Sitting on the desk directly in front of Matt, Fury grabbed the edges on either side of him, his relaxed posture the polar opposite of Matt’s rigidity.

“You felt better, didn’t you? Knowing you served that little girl justice when the system didn’t. They failed her, everyone else failed her, but you were there.”

Matt swallowed thickly, his hands still clenched tightly at his sides. His fingers were starting to tingle due to lack of circulation.

“I understand that you’re a God fearing man. You have a set of morals, a code, I can respect that. But we do not abide by your rules. Your self righteousness and your hypocrisy have no place in this agency. I am doing you a favor-”

“A favor?”

Matt’s face was twisted up in vexation, caught between incredulity that Fury truly believed that and frustration that he thought any of this was a favor to Matt.

“And what part of this do you consider a favor, Fury? Invading my privacy? The extortion?”

“Extortion is a bold claim. We didn’t force you to do anything.”

“Not explicitly, but the threat was loud and clear. We know who you are, we know everything about you, comply or suffer the consequences.”

“Well now you’re just being dramatic. We aren’t holding anything over your head, Mr. Murdock. We simply leveled the playing field. We know who you are, you know who we are. You were already working on a lead we were pursuing, we offered you an in.”

“I didn’t need your help-”

“You are an unsanctioned vigilante, and a civilian. I have given you confidential information on The Red Right Hand, and I am putting my ass on the line allowing you to be a part of this investigation. I didn’t have to do that. And I could have threatened to expose your temperamental ass if you didn’t back off, but I didn’t. Because someone thinks you’re worth a damn. Someone stuck their neck out for you, and put their own reputation on the line, because they believed in you-someone that I trust, and that is not an easy accomplishment.”

Matt’s mouth snapped shut as Fury’s words settled between them, once again leaving him with more questions than answers. Fury’s patience with Matt had clearly run out, and Matt could feel that this conversation was over whether he was ready for it to be or not.

Satisfied with Matt’s silence, Fury slowly stood up straight, and there was an edge of warning to his voice when he spoke.

“Now, I am offering you an olive branch. You’d be wise to take it.”

»»———　　———««

The buzzing of Matt’s phone against the wooden dining table alerted Matt to an incoming phone call before the automated voice did.

“Incoming call, unknown number.”

Matt’s fingertips brushed over the last few Braille bumps of the court document he was reading before reaching over to tap the phone screen.

“This is Murdock.”

“Did you find the present I left you?”

Matt’s concentration was sufficiently broken when he heard her voice. The document was left momentarily abandoned beneath his fingers as creases of confusion settled in his forehead.

“How did you get my number?”

“I knew your address, you think I didn’t have your phone number?”

The amusement in her voice was clear, as if she were standing right next to him instead of on the other end of the line. Her original question made him sit up a little straighter, focusing his senses on his front door. He didn’t notice anything.

“Wait, what do you mean present you left me? I haven’t gotten anything delivered.”

“I left it in your closet.”

Matt snapped his head in the direction of his phone. His expression immediately shifted from mild confusion to full blown annoyance.

“How the hell did you-, I locked the rooftop door.”

“And I told you I can pick locks.”

“Stop breaking into my fucking apartment.”

An exasperated sigh tinged with a twinge of playfulness floated through the phone speaker.

“Just go check your goddamn closet.”

Letting out a deep exhale through his nose, Matt angrily swiped his phone off the table, his chair screeching against the floor when he abruptly pushed it back to stand up. When he stepped into his walk-in closet, he tilted his head to the side, using his senses to locate the box sitting on one of the shelves. He hadn’t noticed it when he came home. Granted, he hadn’t even come into his bedroom yet. He’d immediately sat down to go over his closing statement for court on Thursday.

Setting his phone aside, he slowly reached out to brush his fingertips over the slender rectangular box. The wrapping paper was smooth, and there was even a bow tied around it with soft silk string.

“You tie this yourself?”

“I did.”

“How thoughtful.”

Matt’s dry sarcasm didn’t quite match his internal reaction. Brushing his fingertips over the silk string and following it towards the center where an expertly tied bow rested, a subconscious smile ghosted over the edge of his mouth. Despite him being an ass about it, it was actually thoughtful. Not that he’d ever tell her that.

After pulling the bow loose and unwrapping the box, he lifted the top off, and his face scrunched in curiosity and uncertainty feeling cool metal touch his fingertips. There were four slender pieces of it side by side, the one on the far left wrapped in smooth leather with grooves for an easy grip. For how firm it felt, it was surprisingly light when he picked it up, almost weightless.

“What is this?”

“You can’t tell with your super senses?”

“They’re not super. They’re heightened.”

As Matt inspected the object, he felt a sense of familiarity. Brushing his thumb over the bottom of one of the slender pieces, it seemed to click in his brain. One by one, he locked each piece into place, straightening them out vertically. He rubbed the thin silk rope at the end of the handle between his first two fingers and his thumb, the opening wide enough to wrap around the pieces to keep them bundled, or to hang up by his front door.

“Is this a cane?”

“With a tracker. I installed the tracking app on your phone.”

“What? How did you even-”

“You were unconscious for quite a while.”

Matt let out a dry laugh, shaking his head as he continued to glide his hand slowly over every part of the cane.

“So you’ve broken into my apartment God knows how many times, you took my suit, and my phone. Anything else?”

“Well, I was gonna swipe your card and treat myself to a nice dinner, but according to your bank account, you’re one of those lawyers that actually cares about people, not money.”

Matt could practically hear the smirk in her voice, and it made one tug across his own mouth.

“Unlucky for you.”

“Mhm. Owens, on the other hand, gets a pretty nice payday from the government. I put it on his tab instead.”

Matt was quiet for a moment, trying to decipher the intention behind this unexpected gift. He couldn’t think of one. Or maybe he just wanted to hear it from her lips.

“Why did you get me a cane with a tracker?”

“Because littering is illegal in New York.”

Matt couldn’t stop the amused snort that escaped even if he’d tried.

“And I didn’t get you a cane. It was custom made. Feel that button on the handle?”

Matt’s hand glided down the smooth surface until he felt a small circular button just a few inches below the handle.

“Yeah?”

“Well press it.”

“How do I know it’s not gonna explode?”

A laugh sounded from the other end of the line, and it caught Matt off guard. He wasn’t sure why, but he had an urge to hear it again. It humanized her otherwise artificial demeanor.

“Wow, guess those senses really aren’t super. “

Pressing the button, the top two pieces merged into one, as did the bottom two, leaving a string of material between them. It happened so quickly Matt nearly dropped the two pieces he was now holding. They felt like…his batons? Rubbing the thin string of material connecting them between his thumb and first two fingers, his dark brows furrowed. It was some kind of smooth metal, but he couldn’t place it.

“What is this made of?”

“High-tensile steel fiber composite cable. It’s virtually indestructible, so it shouldn’t snap no matter what you do with it. The cane itself is made out of Vibranium.”

Matt’s hand suddenly paused its exploration, and he cocked his head to the side.

“Vibranium? Like…Wakandan Vibranium?”

“Is there another kind?”

“How the hell should I know?”

“Yes, Vibranium is only sourced from Wakanda. Are you familiar with kinetic energy?”

Matt rolled his eyes as he pushed the small button again, the two split batons morphing back into a cane.

“I’m a lawyer, not a scientist.”

“You graduated Summa Cum Laude from Columbia, but you don’t know basic science? I’m disappointed, Matthew.”

The playful tease in her comment had Matt fighting the smirk that threatened to cross his lips, betraying his own stubborn defiance. He clicked his tongue against his cheek as he broke the cane down into four pieces again, wrapping the thin silk rope around the bundle.

“Aw, sweetheart, I’m gutted. How am I gonna live with your disappointment?”

“I’m sure you could make a compelling case for my forgiveness, Counselor. I’ll even trade for it.”

Matt let out a dry chuckle and shook his head, taking the phone off speaker to bring it up to his ear, dropping his voice to a lower octave.

“No, see, forgiveness isn’t a transaction. That’s your first mistake. Although I wouldn’t expect someone who seems incapable of feeling guilt to understand the fundamentals of forgiveness. But you’re welcome to come to church with me one Sunday, learn a thing or two.”

“Oh I don’t know, Matthew. I think I’d have to clear an entire day just to sit through your weekly confessional.”

“Well I’m sure if you were to go in, you’d probably never come out.”

The momentary silence on the other end felt like a little triumph. He’d won this round. He’d managed to tip the scales back in his favor.

“Now, you gonna tell me what the point of this science lesson is?”

“Vibranium absorbs kinetic energy. Whatever hits the metal takes, it stores, and that energy can be released.”

“Released?”

“Think of it as a boost to pack a really powerful punch.”

Matt’s thumb absentmindedly brushed over the gift, contemplating his next question. When he spoke, there was no attempt at banter, no sarcastic remark, just pure curiosity.

“Why did you have this made?”

“So you can vigilante on the go.”

It wasn’t an answer. Not a real one. He’d dropped his guard for a second, allowing a snippet of vulnerability into the conversation, hoping for raw honesty. As much as she frustrated the hell out of him, and as much as he didn’t trust her and wasn’t sure if he even liked her, he wanted to understand her. He didn’t know why, but he did. And she was giving him nothing.

“Right.”

Matt’s disappointment was palpable even through the phone. An uncomfortable moment of silence passed before a quiet sigh sounded from her end.

“Look, it’s a peace offering.”

“Because you need my help-”

“No. I don’t. But I want it.”

That surprised him. That was the last thing he expected her to say. It made him pause, considering the sincerity in her words. I want it. That was something. Real, honest, vulnerable. But it didn’t make Matt any less weary of her.

“I have conditions.”

“I already agreed to Fury’s compromise-”

“I have more.”

This time her sigh was tinged with exaggerated exasperation, and it made him roll his eyes.

“I’ll start knocking.”

“Don’t tase me again.”

“Don’t give me a reason to.”

Matt let out a deep exhale through his nose, reaching up to pinch the bridge of it. He didn’t know if he’d ever met someone so insufferable. And he knew Frank Castle.

“You know, if we’re gonna work together, you’re gonna have to at least pretend you trust me.”

Matt let out a genuine laugh at the audacity of her statement, and he shook his head as he switched his phone to his opposite hand, raising it to his other ear.

“Sweetheart, you don’t get to pull the shit you did the other night and talk to me about trust. You haven’t exactly given me a good impression so far. I also know virtually nothing about you, which puts me at a disadvantage, because you know everything about me.”

“I don’t know everything about you.”

“I thought I was supposed to assume you knew everything?”

Matt’s voice was mocking as he repeated those irritating words he was tired of hearing.

“Assume, yes. That doesn’t mean that I do.”

All at once, bewilderment washed over him. Matt stood there in his closet, letting those words sink in, finally blinking a few times to chase away the dryness that had glazed over his sightless eyes in his stupefied state.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Let’s start simple. What’s your favorite color?”

Matt was still trying to process that she didn’t actually know everything, she’d just led him to believe that. And he had. Pressing his lips together in annoyance, his voice was dry and flat when he answered.

“I’m blind.”

“So? You weren’t always blind.”

Dropping the phone down to his side for a moment, Matt tilted his head back and dragged his top teeth across his bottom lip, letting out a quiet grunt before cracking his neck and lifting his phone back to his ear with a disgruntled deep exhale.

“Red.”

“I never would’ve guessed.”

Matt’s eyes rolled so hard he thought for a moment they’d stay stuck in the back of his skull.

“Well, why?”

“Why what?

“Why is red your favorite?”

Matt’s feet carried him out of the closet and over towards the edge of his bed where he sat down, trying to decide how to answer. There were a million different ways he could, but most of those answers were personal, too personal for him to feel comfortable telling someone whose intentions he was still trying to figure out. His intrigue about her was muddled by his suspicion that had only continued to grow with each encounter.

“My dad was a boxer. It was his color.”

“Do you remember him?”

Matt tensed slightly at that question, and he immediately redirected the conversation.

“It’s my turn to ask a question.”

“Alright, fine. Go ahead.”

A hundred questions flashed through his brain, but he knew he had to be intentional about which one he chose. Trying to get an answer out of her that wasn’t yes or no or annoyingly vague was like pulling teeth. So he played it safe and smart and threw her own question back at her.

“What’s yours?”

“What?”

“Favorite color.”

“Green.”

There was a small pause, and then her voice sounded again.

“Emerald green.”

“Huh, that’s not what I expected. Why?”

“It’s calming. It reminds me of something…something good.”

There was a hesitance in her tone, an uncertainty that made him stay quiet, picking up on the fact that she seemed like she wanted to say more but was conflicted about it. He wanted to know, so he gentled his own voice to give her a little push.

“Yeah? Like what?”

The silence that passed stretched for so long Matt thought she might have hung up on him, but then her voice came through, and it was the softest he’d ever heard it.

“I have these…glimpses I get sometimes. A place. A woman.”

The electricity buzzing throughout the building, the conversations happening on the floors above and below him, and even the lively sounds of the city outside seemed to fade completely as he solely focused on her voice.

Matt was hesitant to push too far and make her shut down. He didn’t know if she was intentionally being more honest to prove to him that she was trying and making an effort, or if the question brought up a memory she’d seemingly gotten lost in, but he was going to take full advantage of this rare moment.

“Are these…memories?”

“I think so. I think it’s where I grew up. Somewhere with a lot of trees and grass. Cherry blossoms. And the woman, I can’t really see her face, but I think she’s my mother.”

Matt never once stopped to think about where she came from, or who she was outside of S.H.I.E.L.D. He’d been so focused on who she was currently that he hadn’t even thought about who she had been. But that hint of grief was an almost imperceptible crack in her perfectly crafted exterior, and he recognized it.

Because he felt it, every single day. He’d been haunted by it ever since that tragic night that had left him completely alone in the world.

Matt let out a soft breath, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he tilted his head downwards.

“You lost her.”

“Yeah.”

Her voice was so quiet, and there was a rawness to it he wasn’t expecting. It was what he’d been wanting, but now that he had it, he wasn’t sure what to do with it. For every answer she gave, he had thirteen more questions. He’d never had such a hard time trying to get a read on someone before.

“You know, I think that might be the first honest thing you’ve said to me.”

“I thought you knew when I was lying.”

A fleeting smile graced Matt’s lips, and as the volume of his voice lowered to match the sudden intimate nature of the conversation, his retort was interlaced with the truth that neither one of them seemed to find amusing.

“You’re a good liar.”

Another moment of silence passed before she spoke again.

“I was trained to be.”

tags: @the-swift-escape @lambmurdock @lunakkey @Lfdybadgirlsdiw @devilmurdock64 @moonyinthestars @suits-and-smirks @day-dreaming-goddess @natashasotherhalf @rebel13lion39 @pixelfaery @ebsmind @mattmurdocksscars @ahhhhhhhydbhdg @ayupcap @thepassionatereader @awenthealchemist @zomtart @superrbffun @buckypops @snicksbabe @redroomproperty @angel113431 @18raven @a-sunflower-in-bloom @shadypaperwitch @lizziela @givemylovetoall @dreadful-secrets @dreadfulxives18 @jjprxntiss @bigratbitchsworld @s1xthirty @daisy-the-quake@raven18 @hipwell @scorpiovelaryon @yiiiikesmish @mel-thefrog @ponyosmom35 @daisydark @xoxabs88xox @punkshyteee @abbyhaslongshorts @wolvierinee @snowflames-world @yomnajir @Fries11 @groovycass

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81folklore · 2 years ago

Text

dress - VETTEL - part 2

pairings: sebastian vettel x famous!reader (fc: taylor swift)

summary: its known that seb has been married for a few years now despite the public never seeing is wife, its also known that yn is in a committed relationship and has been since she disappeared from public eye. maybe they are more connected than people realise

authors note: part two because i didnt realise how long it had gotten but im allergic to actually writing.. also i apologize for the first part literally just being build-up.. i honestly didnt know about the 30 pic limit so...

authors note 2: i used google translate for the german so i hope its correct, also i dont know if petnames like darling or sunshine are used in germany but i had to use them

authors note 3: i actually hate how this turned out :/ but it was very hard to actually get my thoughts onto the page so this will do! this is part 2 so go read part 1 first!!

part 1 part 3 masterlist

ynupdates

liked by user5, user77, olliebearman and 45,920 others

YN IN THE F1 PADDOCK TODAY, I REPEAT YN IN THE PADDOCK

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user77: sorry i dont follow f1, i thought the races were on sundays?

user5: dont be sorry! today is qualifying and tomorrow is the race!

user5: SHES THERE I CANT STAY CALM

user91: does anyone know who she was with in those photos of her by the track?

user5: sebastian vettel and mick schumacher!

user6: SHE WAS WATCHING QUALIFYING WITH SEB AND MICK?? SEB VETTEL?? AND MICK SCHUMACHER?? OH LORDDD

user12: i thought i would survive.. i lied

ynupdates

liked by user5, user20, user99 and 101,782 others

seems like yn is with redbull at todays race looking as gorgous as ever!

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user5: OH OH OH OH

user5: SHE IS STUNING HOLY

user20: her style recently has been AMAZING

user68: out of every team i think redbull would have been one of my last guesses

user6: THE WAY SHE IS WITH REDBULL AND SPENT QUALIFYING WITH REDBULLS GOLDEN BOY OH I FEEL SICK

user99: i love her so much

user42: at least her team will win

user591: IS SHE WEARING A WEDDING RING??

user618: i think so?? honestly i wouldnt be surprised shes very private and has been with her partner for almost 8 years so no wonder he popped the question

user90: i need her to be at every gp

ynupdates

liked by charles_leclerc, user55, user81 and 234,891 others

yn on stage performing dress during the post-race concert at suzuka! as far as we know it was a complete surprise, she came on to sing dress then left. this is her second time performing it to a live audience!

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user81: WHEN IS IT MY TURN TO HEAR DRESS LIVE

user5: charles and seb were both spotted watching her from the side of the stage!

user81: charles taking seb to see his favorite artist..what if i cried

user55: i cant believe i lost dress twice without even knowing i could lose it😭

user8: i hope she had so much fun, ive missed her doing stuff like this :’)

user12: apparently she was laughing and looking off stage at someone throughout, possibly her partner?

user1: SHE AWLAYS LOOKS SO GOOD

user13: so much content this weekend..im going to have major withdrawls

yourusername

liked by sebastianvettel, mickschumacher and 13,712,847 others

four years ago i was given the pleasure of marrying my best friend

i am unable to really put into words how much meeting you and getting to spend the rest of my life with you has changed my life seb, but i tell you i love you enough daily that i hope you understand

when we first met i had no idea how much you would impact me and the way i think, but you have helped me become the woman i am today and i am forever grateful for that

i often feel unworthy of the life you have given me, the life we have together. i wonder how i got to be the one you love and cherish and i know how lucky i am to be the one you spend your life with

you gave me your heart and i promise to look after it for as long as im here, i promise to keep it safe and i know you will look after mine

danke, dass du mich liebst, danke, dass du dich um mich kümmerst. (thank you for loving me, thank you for taking care of me) Ich verspreche, dich bis zu meinem letzten Atemzug zu lieben. (I promise to love you until my last breath) Ich werde nie aufhören, dich zu lieben, Mein Sonnenschein. (I will never stop loving you, my sunshine)

tagged: sebastianvettel

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sebastianvettel: Danke, dass du dein Herz geöffnet hast und mich dich lieben lässt, mein Schatz (Thank you for opening your heart and letting me love you, my darling)

sebastianvettel

liked by yourusername, lewishamilton and 8,728,712 others

I won the most important race. It was the race into the heart of the love of my life, yn. I love you.

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yourusername: 🩵🩵🩵

user5: I CANT DO THIS STOP

user12: hes so sweet :(

user18: ive known about them for a total of 2 minutes but i love them already🫡

user6: dress was written about him…

user71: i feel ill wehn will i get posted like this

sebastianvettel

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername, landonorris and 10,120,859 others

the sunshine of my life

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yourusername: i love you so much

lewishamilton: very happy for you mate!

user13: THEY LOVE EACHOTHER SO MUCH OH MY GOD😭😭

landonorris: 🥹🥹

user82: DRESS WAS WRITTEN BY HER FOR HIM AND HE WAS PROUD OF IT OH LORD

user5: literally my favorite people in the entire universe🫶

user19: still in shock that theyve been married for four years

#f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 smau #f1 social media au #social media au #formula 1 insta au #formula 1 social media au #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel fanfic #sebastian vettel #★ famous seb #f1 insta au

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hyperfixatedbastard · 1 year ago

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do you write hypnosis stuff?? it's not specifically against the rules but idk it's kind of an iffy era for a lot of writers-

if it's okay with you, could you write some Vox x Singer!Reader who he uses his mind control on to sell their soul to him so they remain under the VoxTek label? (im sure remaining with him is an ulterior motive of his as well lol)

thanks :]

I can absolutely do that! I’m a little iffy about NSFW hypnosis, but I can do a SFW oneshot :)

siren songs

Obsessed!Vox x Singer!GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

WARNINGS: Yandere-ish behavior, hypnosis, manipulation, toxic behavior, all that good stuff

A/N: I told y'all I'd be back with some toxic Vox!! I wasn't entirely sure how to end this one, but I've spent enough time rewriting it to stop caring. This one is only romantic in theory - nothing actually romantic happens between Vox and Reader, it's more mutual pining than anything else This is also my first time writing obsessive behavior, so I hope I did it well!

Dividers

You’ve been working with the Vees for years now. You were originally recruited by Velvette, who’s like a bloodhound for new talent. She saw some popular videos of your singing online, and she made you famous.

But you don’t work with her that much, oddly enough. Over time, you gradually started to see her less and less. Vox was the one to take her place. By the time you noticed, there wasn’t much you could do about it—you’re certainly not an equal to the Vees, so there wasn’t much you could do. Sure, you could’ve quit then and there, as you’d never signed a soul-binding contract, but you really liked your job. You were getting to do what you loved for a living! Who wouldn’t want that?

Well, you. You don’t want that anymore. You’re getting burnt out. You feel like you’re out of creativity for writing songs, and singing no longer has the same appeal it used to. It feels like a chore. Getting on stage doesn’t get you excited—it just fills you with dread.

Then you saw the videos of the annual clown pageant down in the Greed Ring. How Fizzarolli, Mammon’s favorite little jester, just…quit. Just like that.

Can you do that?

You don’t have backup like Fizzarolli did. There’s no Prince of Hell to protect you if the Vees lash out in response to your resignation. But the Vees aren’t Mammon. They’re powerful Overlords, sure, but they wouldn’t kill off an easy cash grab like you. And they don’t have any leverage to use against you—you’re a fucking superstar, you learned to stop keeping secrets a long time ago.

Yeah, you can totally do this!

You spend the next week making a plan. You currently live in V Tower, so finding another living arrangement is a priority. Luckily, your standards are just as low as before you got famous, so snatching up an apartment doesn’t take long. You’ve been building up savings for some time now, just little bits here and there that wouldn’t look suspicious among your bank withdrawls, so you have enough money to last you a while. You’ve made a go-bag, but you’re not too worried about bringing anything with you, as you have enough cash to just buy new shit. By the time the end of the week comes around, you’ve got your escape plan ready to go. All that’s left is to actually quit.

You decide that directly speaking to Vox is your best option. Velvette and you don’t have the same rapport that you used to, and Valentino is just… no. During your time working with Vox, you like to think there’s some sort of friendship there. The two of you chat amicably, and he always makes sure you’re okay when it comes to creepy fans and the like. You feel like there could be something more than just friendship, but you don’t plan on staying long enough to find out. As much as you like Vox, you’re not willing to spend the rest of your afterlife hating every second of your job just for him.

You stand outside Vox’s lair, mentally preparing yourself for this conversation. You take a deep breath, and right before you can knock on the door, it opens.

Okay, here goes.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

You aren’t as sneaky as you seem to think you are.

A normal boss wouldn’t have noticed the small transactions in your bank account, or the little trips you’ve been taking to go look at apartments. But Vox isn’t a ‘normal boss’ by any means. And he noticed.

From the moment Vox set eyes on you, he knew he wanted you. You’re beautiful, and fuck, your voice—he just can’t get you out of his damn head, no matter how hard he tries. And he really fucking tried. But he couldn’t avoid you, thanks to VoxTek being such an integral part of your performances. And you’re like a damn siren with that voice of yours, even though he’s supposed to be the hypnotizing one here. Eventually, he just gave in and accepted that he was more than a little obsessed with you. That’s why he started drawing you closer to him, pushing away Velvette and taking control of your brand. He doesn’t like sharing.

Obsession isn’t a particularly new feeling for Vox. He certainly has… tendencies. But this isn’t like whatever the fuck he’s got going on with that deer-headed, old-timey bastard Alastor. It’s not a lust thing, either. You’re certainly attractive, and Vox most definitely would sleep with you, but that’s not the main factor at play here. This is a deeper obsession than any of that bullshit.

Vox knows that he doesn’t own your soul. He’s well aware that he can’t truly stop you from quitting. Even if he managed to trap you inside V Tower, he can’t force you to keep up the performances. If he had you under a proper soul-binding contract, though…

He would own you.

Now, he’s not Valentino. He doesn’t plan to take that kind of advantage over you. He doesn’t want to change a damn thing. He just wants you to stay.

And he will make you stay.

He knows when you approach his office, and he opens the doors with the touch of a button on his desk. He plasters that casually perfect smile on his screen and turns to face you as you enter. The doors shut behind you.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you today, my dear,” he lies easily, the charismatic mask fitting into place like it was never absent in the first place. “How can I help you?”

You hesitate, your anxiety starting to get to you. But you’re determined to do this. You clear your throat and step forward. “I’m resigning.”

Vox’s smile doesn’t falter, nor does his screen glitch. His demeanor is…unnerving, to say the least. You’ve known him to be temperamental, emotional. You expected some kind of reaction. But he’s just smirking at you like he always does.

“I don’t suppose there’s anything I can do to change your mind,” he replies smoothly, tilting his head to the side just slightly.

“No,” you confirm, trying to sound confident in your answer. You’re not sure if you succeed. “I’ve already made my decision.”

Vox sighs, though he doesn’t sound very defeated. His smirk hasn’t gone away, either. “Well, then. It’s been a pleasure working with you, darling.”

He holds his hand out for you to shake. The gesture immediately worries you, as it’s the well-known sign of a deal. But you reassure yourself that there’s no deal being made here. Hell may be chaotic, but there’s rules when it comes to these kinds of things. Neither of you have offered anything, therefore there’s no harm in shaking his hand. It’s just a respectful gesture of a boss wishing their employee farewell. It all feels too easy, but you’re too relieved to think too hard about it.

You go to take his hand, but as you lift your head up to meet his gaze, everything goes fuzzy.

Vox grabs you by your wrist before you can shake his hand. He’s not rough with you. He’s careful of his claws, ensuring they don’t put too much pressure on your skin. Not that you’d notice, either way—your mind is far gone at this point, thanks to those spirals in his eye.

“In exchange for your soul, you’ll remain under the VoxTek label and continue working for me. Your work will remain the same as before. You’ll forget about leaving. You will want to stay here. You will want to stay here with me.”

A golden scroll appears out of thin air, and it floats in front of you as it unfurls. “Sign it.”

Your body moves on its own. You sign your name on the line at the bottom of the page.

Vox releases your wrist, and takes your hand in his own as his eye reverts back to its normal state. When you come to just moments later, he’s shaking your hand with calm professionality.

“I’m glad we got that sorted out,” Vox remarks smoothly, his smirk looking almost proud now. “I look forward to your next performance, my dear.”

You blink a few times as you become more lucid and aware. “Uh, yeah. Can’t wait!”

You smile, and Vox releases your hand, seemingly satisfied with your answer. You don’t remember what exactly you came in here for, but you’re happy with the outcome. “Perfect.”

#hazbin hotel #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel vox x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #vox x you #hazbin vox #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin vox x reader #the vees #gender neutral reader

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boopiemadz · 21 days ago

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hi can you write a female reader x travis maybe post crash and she finds him doing drugs after he promised he would stay sober for her

This is the most deppressing thing ive ever written. Im so sorry.

WARNINGS!

Drug references, Swearing, Recovery and withdrawl, HEAVY content dealing with addiction and trauma

[The edge]

---

The first thing you noticed when you walked into the apartment was the smell. Not just that, but the way the room felt. Heavy.

You dropped your bag by the door, calling his name softly.

Nothing.

Then as you advance forward, there he was.

Curled up on the floor, head bowed low. You froze. For a second, your mind refused to accept it.

No. No, not again.

"Travis?" Your voice was raw and small. His head jerked up, dazed. His eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with shadows they looked bruised. When he saw you, something flickered across his face, shame, fear.

"Y/N," he slurred,"It’s, it’s not what you think..."

"Don't," you snapped, stepping back like he was radioactive. "Don’t lie to me." He struggled upright, staggering a little. "Just... bad night. Needed to, needed to take the edge off, that’s all."

The edge.

The edge he used to talk about in the woods, when the hunger and fear hollowed everyone out. The edge he started chasing with mushrooms after Lottie whispered about connecting with the wilderness. You remembered, how he sat cross-legged in the dark, pupils blown wide, muttering prayers to the trees.

Back then, he believed, or he wanted to. He wanted to believe that the earth spoke to him. That there was a reason for everything. That survival meant something more than just suffering.

You’d sat next to him one night, both of you drunk off sour berry wine someone had fermented in a dirty old jar. You'd clinked the bottle between you and made stupid jokes about how terrible it tasted. How it made everything just fade for a while. How it made the fear and grief buzz quieter.

You both knew it wasn't real. You both drank anyway. It was better than feeling everything. And maybe that was the beginning.

Maybe it wasn’t survival anymore. Maybe it was just... numbing.

And now, out here, away from the trees and the blood and the endless grey sky, he was still chasing it. Still clinging to the silence it gave him.

"Travis," you said, voice trembling, "you promised me."

He swayed where he stood, guilt twisting his face. "I know," he rasped. "I know, I just... I can't, it’s so loud all the time. I can't shut it off."

Your heart cracked open. Because you understood. God, you understood better than anyone. But he wasn't trying to heal. He was trying to disappear.

"You think it’s just you?" you said, voice sharp. "You think I don’t see them too? Every fucking day?" You blinked back hot tears. "I feel it, Travis. I live with it too."

He looked at you then, really looked. The weight of your words hit him harder than any slap could have.

"I’m sorry," he said, broken. "I’m so sorry, Y/N. I don’t know how to be..." He choked on the words. "I don’t know how to be okay."

You closed the space between you before you could think better of it. You grabbed his face in both hands, not gently but forcing him to meet your eyes. "I’m not asking you to be okay," you said fiercely. "I’m asking you to try."

He crumpled against you, forehead pressed to yours, his whole body trembling like a wire pulled too tight. "I’m scared," he whispered. "Without it... I don’t know who I am."

You closed your eyes, breathing him in. The sweat, the drugs, the Travis underneath it all, the boy who once made you laugh when there was nothing left to laugh about. The boy who once held your hand in the freezing dark and swore you'd both make it home.

"You’re still you," you said, voice shaking. "You’re just lost. And I can’t pull you back if you don’t want to come back." For a long, aching moment, neither of you moved. Just breathing. Just surviving.

"I want to," he whispered. "I swear I want to."

You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to. But promises were fragile. And you weren’t sure you could survive watching him break again. So you set your hands on his chest, feeling the frantic, desperate beat of his heart, and said the only thing you could:

"Then prove it."

He nodded, tears spilling over. Not a dramatic promise. Not a sweeping apology. Just a small, broken boy clinging to you like the world might end. Again.

You didn’t know if he’d make it. You didn’t know if you would.

But for tonight, you stayed. Because love wasn’t just soft kisses and sweet promises. It was this. The messy, brutal, ugly choice to stay when it would be easier to walk away.

You stayed. Because someone had to. Because once upon a time, he stayed for you too.

---

"Trav," you whispered, kneeling down. He flinched when you touched his shoulder. His skin was clammy and burning up.

"I c-can’t," he choked out, voice thin and desperate. "It hurts. It fucking..." He broke off into a guttural sob, shoving his face into his arms.

You slid down beside him anyway, pulling him into your chest. "You can," you said, fiercely, into his hair. "You can. I’m here. I’m right here."

You stayed there all night, humming nonsense songs, pressing cold cloths to his forehead, whispering promises you were terrified you couldn't keep. Because deep down, you knew. The wilderness had carved holes in both of you. You’d both spent years pouring poison into the wounds. And now you were trying to live with the emptiness.

He wasn’t the only one who cracked.

It started with a sip. Just one. At a stupid party you never wanted to be at.

The glass was in your hand before you even realized it, a reflex, like breathing. And when the warmth hit your chest, dulling the sharp edges inside you for the first time in months, you didn’t even feel guilty. You just felt relief.

Until you stumbled home at two a.m., reeking of liquor, and found Travis waiting on the porch. His arms were crossed. His face was pale. The hurt in his eyes gutted you.

"Don’t," you slurred, waving a hand. "Don’t look at me like that."

He stood up slowly, as if any sudden movement would shatter you both. "You promised me," he said, voice so soft it almost broke. "You promised."

You staggered, nearly falling. "It was just one drink," you snapped, defensive and brittle. "You don’t get to judge me." "I’m not judging you," he said, stepping closer. His voice cracked. "I’m scared for you."

You turned away, hot shame rising up your throat like bile. You didn’t want his pity. You didn’t deserve it.

But then his arms were around you. Tight. Desperate. And for a second, you let yourself crumble. "I’m sorry," you whispered into his shirt. "I’m so fucking sorry." "I know," he murmured. "Me too."

The next morning, you sat on the floor together, him nursing tea with shaking hands, you with a pounding headache and raw eyes, and you made a new kind of pact.

"No more promises," you said hoarsely. Travis blinked at you.

You swallowed, throat thick. "Not the kind we can’t keep." You met his eyes. "Just... one day at a time. You fall, I catch you. I fall, you catch me." He stared at you for a long, long moment. Then he nodded, slow and sure. "One day at a time."

And when he reached for you across the floor, you took his hand without hesitation. Because you needed him too. You always had.

Recovery wasn’t a clean line after that.

There were good days: Laughing until you cried over dumb TV shows. Cooking shitty meals and pretending they were gourmet. Holding hands in the grocery store like the world hadn't ended.

And there were awful days: Nights when Travis would disappear into the bathroom too long and you’d find him staring at the mirror like he didn’t recognize himself. Mornings you couldn’t get out of bed because the weight of everything sat on your chest like a stone

Days when you snapped at each other. When he accused you of treating him like a burden. When you accused him of giving up on himself. When the wounds between you reopened, fresh and bleeding.

But you always found your way back. Always.

One night, a few months in, Travis found you sitting on the kitchen floor with a bottle of cheap vodka at your side, unopened but tempting. You were just staring at it, hollow-eyed.

He didn’t say a word. He just knelt down, took your hand, and pulled you into his lap. You curled into him, shaking

"I get it," he whispered into your hair. "I get it so fucking much."

You sobbed once, ragged and broken, and shoved the bottle across the floor, out of reach. You clung to him like he was the last solid thing in the world. And maybe he was. Maybe you were for him, too.

Healing wasn’t a destination. It was a battle. You were still fighting it, every day, every hour.

But you weren’t fighting alone anymore. And somehow, that was enough.

You pressed your forehead to his, breathing him in. "I’m glad you’re here," you whispered. His hands tangled in your hair, grounding you, steadying you. "Me too," he said. His voice broke. "God, me too."

#yellowjackets #travis martinez #yellowjackets fandom #viral #travis martinez fanfic #fanfiction #travis martinez x reader #angsty #content warning #x reader #fem reader #req!#requests #so sorry #crying writing this #this is so depressing

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