#for now ill just drop ideas here
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s-c-l-n · 8 months ago
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post retirement sakuatsu where sakusa becomes some rich science guy and atsumu does local volleyball rec leagues/summer camps and will on occasion coach at some local schools
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runningatypufullspeed · 9 months ago
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I am twitching so violentlu right nowdude I am so down bad for my own design of Mildred it’s not even funny
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morninkim · 5 months ago
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jules has been time looping for years, hunted by assassins, each death ensuring she stays stuck in the loop. in the furthest day she's gotten to since the loop started, she meets jenny, a waitress at the diner where she's laying low. the assassins find her there.
in the shoot out that follows, jenny is killed.
which starts a new loop. for both of them.
to find out why they're now connected by the time loop, and to survive, they'll have to complete a Perfect Run!
Titleless version under the cut!!
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choso-is-bbg · 28 days ago
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𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐫!𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚...
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here you were stuck in an estate as his new loyal servant. you didn't want any of this. your parents were killed during one of his impulsive massacres and for whatever reason, he had to take you in. he didn't murder you.
you hated emperor!sukuna. he was never nice and always ordered you around a bit more than the others, but you had to endure. you didn't want to end up like the countless servants who were beheaded after making simple mistakes. emperor!sukuna was ruthless.
little did you know he had taken interest in you. he had no idea why, but he found you so interesting. he would catch himself following your every move as you tended to his garden while he was meditating or when his concubines were feeding him fruits and what not.
you never dared looking him in the eyes as you served him and that slightly bothered him. he knew he was your king but to him that rule didn't apply to you. and how would you know if he hasn't told you. he started making you perform more tasks for him, much to your displeasure so that he can stare at you for as long as you were there next to him. when he wasn't around the estate, he had uraume report your moves to him.
he started spending less time with his concubines, his mind invaded with thoughts of you. how dare you! but he wasn't exactly mad at you. how could he be when you were so pretty when you served him.
after a while had passed, he decided to make a move. he didn't outright tell you that he wanted you even though he knew that he could, like how he did with his concubines, but he wanted it to be different. you were called into his chambers and there you saw him standing next to his bed in all his height. you hated him but where afraid of him. who wouldn't be afraid of a being with four arms, a mouth on their stomach and who's height was competing with that of a tree.
you bowed down and greeted him. he hummed and nodded at you then started taking off his robe. you quickly looked down as a man had never before undressed infront of. he stared at you as he took of his robes and he was now standing there with all his glory.
"i want you to bathe me", he said and headed into the bathroom and sat on the stool made especially for him. water was already ready for him.
"i'm sorry... but i'm not the one who normally does this-"
"i don't care. i need a bathe and i called you hear. so do it", he said in a menacing voice as he narrowed his eyes at you.
"yes master", you bowed and got to work. you poured water on his chiselled body and then lathered him with soap. you had to clean him properly and so you took your time unwillingly as he just stared at you the entire time as you avoided eye contact. he hated this. he hated the fact that you didn't want to look at him.
"face me", he startled you as you stopped your actions.
"i'm sorry my lord"
"look at me", he said and you hesitantly looked at him all his four eyes focused on you. you felt a drop of sweat roll down the side of your face but he didn't seem like he had any ill intensions. you broke eye contact and rinsed off the soap off his body.
"i want you to be mine", you stopped in your tracks again, clearly startled. there was absolutely no way this was going to happen.
"i'm sorry my lord but i don't... feel the same way you do", you said your heart pounding worried that something was going to happen to you. he narrowed his eyes at you and looked away. you were done bathing him and went back to his room where his robes were already set for him on his bed.
you helped him get dressed and bowed as you were done. "i'll be taking my leave now my lord", you said and walked out. he felt angry but his chest felt kind of weird. it hurt for some reason. he had wanted to kill you, but how could he have someone who was already dead. he clenched his fist angrily.
"you will be mine..."
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lightseoul · 3 months ago
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HOLD ME CLOSE (HOLD ME TIGHT) (3.8k)
pairing. k. bakugou x reader
synopsis. masaru has a stroke that nearly kills him. bakugou handles it well—until he doesn’t.
cw. pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (32), established relationship, mentions of illness, themes of grief, discussions of past trauma (bkg's)
a/n. i hope y'all cry because this made me cry lmao. writing really is easy if you take heavy inspiration from your personal experiences lol. this is written from bkg's pov, and serves as a mini character analysis as well ig?
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bakugou remembers it clear as day.
it was only a few weeks after the two of you celebrated his 32nd birthday in a secluded resort out of town when he got the call.
he was in the middle of chastising his klutz of a sidekick’s ear off for forgetting to submit an important case report when his phone started ringing, and the very fact that it wasn’t your ringtone further soured his already worsening mood.
with a final reprimand laced with an hr-appropriate amount of expletives, he dismissed the rookie, leaving him alone in his pristine, corner office.
he recalls sighing in annoyance upon seeing the caller id, as well as his clipped tone when he greeted the old hag with a curt, “what.”
that annoyance was immediately replaced with alarm, however, when his usually bright mother spoke into the microphone, her typically level voice shaking with unmistakable fear.
“it’s your father, katsuki…” she started, and he instantly braced himself for the impact.
mitsuki takes a shaky inhale. “…he’s having a stroke. we’re on the way to the hospital. please, come here.”
he didn’t need to be told twice.
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he remembers being on autopilot—the entire way to the suburban peripheries of musutafu where his parents decided to move after he got his own place at the age of 22. he’s not entirely sure—the journey over now a hazy blur—but he might’ve sent you the link to his location, because you magically arrived at the local hospital around fifteen minutes after him.
the moment he saw you burst into the entrance of the emergency room, a huge, tidal wave of relief immediately washed over him, he thought he could’ve collapsed. the second you lock eyes, he witnessed a whirlwind of emotions dance across your beautiful features, before you ran over to where he stood near the vending machine, unceremoniously crashing into his arms.
at that point, he had no idea what made you drop everything—including the precious work that you do—and just follow him based on an ambiguous gps locator he sent you without context, but he was glad you did.
because it was only as you held him so close to you all the while soothing his back and chanting soft ‘it’s okay’s’ in his ear did it hit him.
the fact that he’s fucking terrified.
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it must’ve been at least three hours of stewing in tense silence in the emergency room’s waiting area before the two of you finally saw mitsuki.
he remembers the way his heart ached when he first laid eyes on his mother, someone who’s typically radiant and spirited and happy, now looking too frail and painfully vulnerable.
words weren’t exchanged as the three of you walked towards each other, and he promptly engulfed his mother into a tight hug before he could talk himself out of it.
“how is he?” he whispered into the side of her head, choosing to ask then, in the middle of a hug, because he didn’t know if he could stand the look on her face when she answered.
“he’s alive,” she managed to get out, but she said it so tentatively that he knew it was too soon to feel any sort of relief.
“but…?” he recalls asking with bated breath.
“it was a hemorrhagic stroke. it’s… it’s bad, katsuki.”
it wasn’t until a few more hours later, when the two of you were finally granted permission to enter masaru’s hospital room together with mitsuki, did he realize what bad meant.
some parts of this story are blurry now, but the way his stomach dropped at the sight of his father remains to be unforgettable.
the sight of him paralyzed, head to toe.
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masaru remained confined in the hospital for a few weeks more after that. the three of you took turns—one would go home to clean up and catch some sleep while the remaining two kept watch and assisted the man.
you almost got booted out of there on the second day, with the nurse saying only immediate family was allowed due to overcrowding in the hospital, but bakugou was quick to step in and say you were practically married.
when the nurse politely pressed for more details while looking pointedly at your ring finger and the lack of a wedding band, he lied and said you forgot to wear it in your rush to get there.
she didn’t seem too convinced, but she thankfully let it go, probably because it was #2 pro-hero dynamight who said so, eventually exiting the room after checking masaru’s vitals.
he remembers you heaving a sigh of relief once the three of you were left alone, tossing him a small smile that sent a familiar shot of longing straight to his veins.
one day, he recalls thinking to himself, you will be married.
just—not now.
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the first day home was as much of a nightmare as he expected it to be.
growing up, and until that moment, he never really found himself wanting siblings.
sure, it got pretty lonely during his childhood, but he almost always had kids following him around what with how flashy his quirk is, and he had izuku, which he can now admit was (and still is) his best friend.
plus, you always said you loved how he’d roughhouse you, which you chalked up to him being an only child and not having had the opportunity to do that with anyone else.
but, as the three of you struggled to lift masaru out of the car and into his newly minted wheelchair, he remembers wishing for a brother or a sister who could lend a helping hand and make sure all of masaru’s numb body parts were carefully looked out for.
it’s fucking hilarious, how he didn’t just lift his father all by himself with his pro-hero muscles, but the fear of accidentally hurting him even more turned out to be more paralyzing than he anticipated.
not that he would ever admit that to anyone.
not even you.
but as he watched you and his mother fluttering around, tending to masaru’s needs not even a minute you get in the house, it struck him that maybe he should.
you might not be his sibling (thank god, no), but you will most likely become his parents’ daughter if things go his way.
and, whether he liked it or not, he’s got to do something about the growing ache in his chest that’s only growing wider by the second.
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the next few weeks he spent busying himself with the stuff that came with looking after a stroke patient.
mitsuki, who’s done nothing but throw herself into caring for her husband, insisted on helping him find the people they needed, but bakugou didn’t even let her get a word in.
when he tucked himself into bed right next to you later that night in his new bedroom (you moved in with him to his parents’ despite his protests), he recalls ranting about how the old hag was getting on his nerves with her inability to just let him handle shit.
“have i ever been incompetent?” he huffed, turning on his side so he could lie facing you. “it’s like she doesn’t even trust me.”
“i think the two of you just want the same for the other, kats,” came your steady yet gentle voice, not missing a beat and totally unfazed by his petulant behavior.
“…waddya mean?”
you reached out to caress his cheek, and he remembers how soft your fingers felt and how his eyes momentarily fluttered close at the warmth.
at the sight, you flashed him a sad smile before pressing on.
“you’re both hurting, but the two of you would rather carry the weight by yourselves instead of burdening the other. it’s how you and mitsuki show you care.”
he didn’t say anything after that.
at least, for a while.
finally, he spoke up. “…i just don’t like to be bossed around, is all.”
to that, you only tossed him a knowing look. “yup, just that. definitely. never mind your immense sense of responsibility and the stubborn yet admirable way you carry everybody’s bur—”
“yeah, yeah,” he cut you off before you could ramble any further. “i get it.”
seemingly satisfied, you grinned up at him before pulling him close, cradling his head by your chest.
with the new position, he could feel your familiar, rhythmic heartbeat.
your heartbeat that he liked to listen to for reassurance—telltale evidence that you’re alive and right next to him, and that no villain has wrestled you out of his firm grip.
and as he lay there snuggled into you and listening to the consistent pulse, he found his frantic, loud thoughts slowly but steadily being lulled to a hum.
thoughts that he knew you’d kick to the moon if you found out he’s been thinking them.
thoughts like maybe he’s just selfishly gatekeeping all the tasks so he could distract himself from the pain that’s threatening to swallow him whole.
thoughts like maybe he deserved this for all the wrong he’s done growing up.
thoughts like maybe his mother would be in far less pain if it were him instead of his saint of a father who had to go through this.
he fell into a fitted sleep that night.
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after a few more weeks of searching for and screening applicants, and with your and mitsuki’s approval, he finally settled on a stay-in caregiver and physical therapist.
it took quite a while for the two to learn the ropes and master how he wanted things to be done around here, but they eventually got there, and when they did, they cleared a lot of stuff that has been on everybody’s plates ever since masaru had the stroke.
with that, mitsuki insisted the two of you go home to your shared condominium and get back into working full-time again, but neither of you relented. he tried to get you to return, not wanting to hold you back from the important things that you do, but you were quick to dismiss him.
he didn’t tell you then and there, but he secretly wished you would.
he’d never confess this to anybody, but he’d definitely crumble without you around.
he remembers one specific thursday, when you first started getting masaru into exercising his left, albeit non-dominant hand, by drawing.
it was silly, but he recalls not even being able to look his father in the eye as the two of you sat across from him who was plastered in his wheelchair, a small coffee table between you, on which sat a piece of paper, a pencil, a box of crayons, and an all might plushie you swiftly grabbed from his bedroom.
and as he sat there avoiding his father’s gaze, he watched you as you talked animatedly to the man, explaining the deceivingly simple activity: he just had to try and draw the plushie, after which, if he still had the energy, he could color in using the crayons you dug out from bakugou’s drawers.
but masaru wasn’t having it.
the man only stared at you in disinterest as you tried your best to engage him. despite himself, bakugou felt indignation creep up his spine.
he knew. fuck, he really did. after he made sure you’ve fallen asleep, he had spent nights researching his father’s condition, poring over mountains and mountains of information all in the name of being able to better understand and help him.
so he knew—he knew that strokes, especially severe ones, can cause noticeable changes in one’s personality, at least in the short term. it can turn someone sensitive and in tune with others’ emotions into someone who’s apathetic and seemingly self-absorbed.
still, that knowledge doesn’t stop him from jumping on his feet when masaru, his kind, sweet father, angrily wiped off the table with his left arm, sending the materials you worked hard to gather scattered all over the floor.
and, before he could stop himself: “hey!”
you were onto him in an instant, a soothing albeit restraining hold on his shoulder. “katsuki, it’s okay.”
he was about to open his mouth to spit venom when he felt you tighten your grip. he didn’t have to glance at you to know you were looking at him the way you always did when you were begging him to stay quiet.
and because he loved (loves) you, he did.
and as he wordlessly picked up the papers and pens in silence, he couldn’t help but mourn over his father, and the patience and calmness that characterized his being.
the very patience and calmness that he always wished he had, instead of his temper and aggressiveness, because that’s what you, of all people, deserved.
and then the all-too-familiar guilt hit him again.
because why was he acting like his father died, when he was still very much alive?
simple, bakugou thought to himself.
it’s because it feels like he has.
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his relationship with masaru didn’t get better after that.
he’d been trying, he really had been. if not for you, who’d been tending to his father like he was your very own, then for his mother, whose fatigue and sadness have been chipping away at her by the minute.
he was washing the dishes in the kitchen after you’ve had dinner—all the while his parents watched tv in the living room—when you walked in, a couple more dirty plates in tow.
he wouldn’t have noticed he was glaring down at the brick of butter on the shelf if you didn’t point it out.
“a few more seconds and that’s gonna melt,” you quipped.
he looked back at you, gears in his head turning for a beat, before he chuckled half-heartedly and turned back to the sink.
behind him, he recalls hearing a click, which he now identifies as you putting down the plates on the kitchen island, before he felt your arms wrap around his middle, encasing him in a hug.
your voice was smooth when you drawled out, “what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, baby?”
still, and despite all the shit that’s been going on in his life, he still found himself shuddering at the pet name.
“nothing.”
“really?” came your immediate response. “because i was getting kinda jealous with how hard you were staring at that butter.”
at that, bakugou couldn’t help but snort. you followed suit, that delightful laugh echoing across the small room.
“stupid,” he simply retorted, although both of you knew there was no bite to it.
you didn’t press him for more after that, choosing to just hold yourself against his back in comfortable silence—which he now knows he’s grateful for.
because at that time, he couldn’t have told you he was feeling nothing but resentment for his pitiful father.
his pitiful father who loved to put butter in virtually every dish he whipped up.
his pitiful father who probably wouldn’t be pitiful if he just led an active lifestyle, monitored his health, and made better choices so that his poor mother wouldn’t have to go through all this.
his train of thought was interrupted, however, when a pang of that same old guilt hit his chest, and then he was once again flooded with scalding shame.
because what else should he be feeling for his father aside from empathy, as someone who has had far too many brushes with death itself?
“…katsuki?”
he recalls jolting ever so minutely, before turning his head to look at you, who, by then, was already standing behind him, apparently already having released him from the hug.
“huh?”
“i was just asking you,” you continued as if he didn’t just zone out. “our friends want to come by and visit, if you’re okay with it. is that alright with you?”
the last thing he needed was for his nerd-ass friends to visit and witness his family’s dirty laundry, which would inevitably be aired out for them to see given the circumstances. his entire life, he always, always, kept those from prying eyes, even if they were his closest buddies’.
but, at the mention of his friends, he found his heart clenching in yearning despite himself.
and so, before he could talk himself out of it, he nodded in approval.
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“…and so that’s how i saved the little girl who was convinced i was the bad guy!”
he remembers everyone in the room erupting in laughter at kirishima’s story, even masaru, who’s been steadily gaining control of the left side of his body back.
his right has seen little to no improvement, but you and mitsuki have been making it a point to celebrate every win, no matter how small.
at kirishima’s gag, bakugou himself couldn’t help the somewhat imperceptible smirk that encroached on his face, which izuku, unfortunately, caught sight of. the #1 pro-hero beamed at him, and it took bakugou every ounce of self-control not to roll his eyes at the nerd.
“what about you, midoriya-kun?” asked mitsuki, who’s seated on a stool right beside her husband, who’s nestled comfortably in the reclining chair you got him about a month ago.
at the call out, the green-haired man shifted his attention to the lady, before sheepishly retorting with: “oh, i just try to be funny.”
that granted him his round of laughter, and this time bakugou finally allowed himself to give into the visceral urge to roll his eyes.
he must’ve been being so obvious with his expressions, because it’s you who managed to catch him again, shooting him a chastising but nevertheless playful look.
before he could wink at you or do anything in response, though, he recalls mitsuki standing up quite abruptly, startling the five of you.
you shot her a question before anyone else could. “what is it, mitsuki-san?”
“i didn’t notice! we’ve run out of tea and snacks. sorry—” she leaned down to get the trays, “—let me get some mo—”
“i’ll do it!” volunteered the ever-good-natured izuku, who moved so fast the plates were on him before the rest could blink.
“i’ll help the nerd,” bakugou added, standing up before taking some of the cups from his rival lest the latter drops them.
at the uncharacteristically generous offer, izuku once again beamed at him, which bakugou immediately dismissed with a wave of a hand.
the short trek to the kitchen was quiet amidst the background noise, which has been brought up a notch thanks to kirishima’s vivid storytelling.
without a word, bakugou gestured where to get a refill on the snacks while he busied himself with brewing more tea.
the silence that engulfed them was comfortable—familiar—that was, until, izuku broke it.
“thanks again, kacchan.”
bakugou felt his eye twitch at the nickname. “for what?”
izuku turned on his feet to regard his best friend, a grateful smile gracing his boyish features. “for letting me and ei visit. i just wanted you to know i appreciate it. i’m sure it’s not easy having guests around while, you know…”
he wasn’t about to tell the nerd he and kirishima were the only ones he felt comfortable enough to visit at the moment, so he merely nodded.
(un)fortunately, the greenhead took it as a sign to continue.
“she’s been amazing, huh?”
bakugou met the man’s soft gaze, which was directed toward you.
“yeah,” came his sure reply. he remembers not even knowing where to start, so he just simply left it at that.
a pregnant pause.
“you’ve been doing great, too, kacchan.”
that caught him off guard.
he must’ve looked stunned, because izuku shrugged quite timidly, before: “we all see how hard you’re working.”
the #1 pro-hero hesitated for a moment, as if debating whether or not to say the next thing, ultimately deciding for it.
“…but don’t forget to take care of yourself, too, alright?”
and just as fast as he scooped the trays back in the living room, izuku patted him on the shoulder before taking the cups from him and waltzing rather clumsily out of the kitchen.
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later that night, bakugou found himself unable to fall asleep.
it’s been ages since you both got into bed, and you were now on your side with your back turned against him, probably already fast asleep.
he recalls just staring up at the off-white ceiling, playing back in his head the earlier conversation he had with izuku again and again and again.
“you’ve been doing great, too, kacchan,” was what the nerd said.
if he only knew.
if he only knew the terrible thoughts that had been plaguing his mind since shit went down.
there’s a reason why he hasn’t said a single word about the things he’d been thinking since day one.
there’s a reason why he’s kept all of this shit to himself even though they were fucking heavy to carry all on his own.
it was because he was scared of them, and even more scared of what people would make of him when he finally verbalized them into existence.
what you would make of him.
he’s spent most of his life running away from who he used to be, that the mere thought that he might have just always been that guy this entire time is like a fucking 100% detroit smash to the gut.
he didn’t even notice he was crying until he felt a single tear go down the side of his face.
he quickly reached up to wipe it away.
to his horror, he felt you shift beside him, and he found himself frozen in fear as he waited for you to settle into another position in your sleep.
but that didn’t come.
instead, he remembers so, so clearly how you turned to face him—absolutely, evidently wide awake—with such a worried expression on your gorgeous face, and how he just completely lost it at the sight of you.
he remembers how you scooped him into your arms as ugly sobs finally wracked his body, how you led his arms to wrap around your waist to help anchor him as he cried into your chest.
he remembers the soothing circles you rubbed on his back as you started to cry with him, your sniffles the only thing he heard aside from his own weeping.
he remembers the way your voice cracked when you started whispering ‘i’m here’s’ in his ear. and, he doesn’t know if it’s because that line carries a massive fucking weight for him, or that it’s you—the love of his life—who’s saying them, but the words wash over the entirety of his exhausted body like a violent storm, leaving him shivering in its wake.
he remembers deciding then and there, that he was going to tell you everything.
maybe tomorrow, but not now.
for now, and in the safety of your arms, he finds himself finally allowing the grief—the grief that he’s unknowingly been trying to tamp down—to come forward and make itself known.
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tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon
˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 have a nice day!
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nocturnalcharm · 5 months ago
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Faking It (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)
𐙚 prompt: charles forces you and logan to do a mission together in order to help you bond. 𐙚 cw: enemies to lovers, one bed trope, if this does well i’ll do a part 2 w smut ;) cussing, 𐙚 a/n:  thanks to everyone who's sent me req's! this wasnt a req but id already started it haha if youve sent a req ill try to get to it asap.... also so many ppl wanted to be added to a taglist but for the nsfw alphabet post i dont think it tagged like half the ppl?? so im sorry if u dont get tagged, im trying to fix it :)
18+ blog!! you are responsible for your own media consumption. if any of the above makes you uncomfortable, do not proceed.
“Professor, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“(Y/N), it’s not me you should be apologizing to. It’s your team. That’s who you both let down.” He eyes flick between you and Logan.
“I’ll go apologize to them now.” You turn to leave.
“You too Logan.” Charles says.
On this latest mission, you needed to sneak into a factory and take down all of the enemies— But you and Logan were arguing so loudly, you alerted all of the rivals, turning a few quick sneak attacks into full blown fights. No one was badly injured but you still felt horrible about it.
“This is all your fault.” You mumbled, just loud enough for Logan to hear.
“My fault? You’re kidding.” He huffs.
“Shut up.” You walk ahead of him, on the way to the common room to see your team.
Everyone was sitting there, talking amongst themselves. Once you and Logan entered, they all stopped their conversations and looked at you.
“Guys. I am so sorry about this mission.”
“I’m sorry, extremely sorry, and I apologize for my behavior.” Logan mocked your expression of regret.
“You are such a child, Logan! I’m trying to apologize!” You raised your voice.
“I am too!”
“Can you two just stop?” Hank stood up, silencing you both. “Your attitudes have been getting in the way of every mission. If you guys can’t get along then maybe you shouldn’t be here.”
“Oh..” You didn’t know how to respond. You couldn’t believe you let your dislike for Logan get in the way of your job, so much that they thought you shouldn’t be an X-Man anymore.
They all left the room, leaving just you and Logan to culminate in your thoughts.
“I think it’s pretty obvious we’re not going to get along any time soon.” He broke the silence.
“We’ll figure it out.”
“Yeah, whatever you say.” He walked out, as you sat in the empty room.
The next day, Xavier called you and Logan into his office yet again. You were concerned, worried he might be kicking you off the team. But instead, he said he had a mission for you two.
“I need you to pose as a couple. You’ll be going to an upscale hotel in Manhattan. It’s a cover for a drug smuggling ring. You two will stay as guests in order to collect information. I need everyone that is there, guests and workers alike, to think you two are madly in love. We don’t know who could be involved, so we can’t have them think anything suspicious.”
“Professor, is that the best idea? We just blew the last mission because we couldn’t stop arguing.”
“If you two fail this mission, I will have no choice but to replace both of you. You are amazing at what you do, but your arguing affects everyone. Not just yourselves.”
“Okay. We won’t let you down.” Logan speaks up.
***
The trip to the hotel was long and frustrating. You two couldn’t agree on anything the entire time. You criticized his driving, he criticized what you put on the radio, and how loud it was. You called him an old man, which just resulted in the radio being turned off and continuing the last hour drive there in silence.
When you arrived, it was late afternoon. Logan, pretending to be your fiance, grabbed all the bags by himself and walked inside. The hotel was huge. It was upscale, classy. So fancy you were afraid to touch anything, in fear it might break.
“Hi! Checking in for Anderson.” He greeted the front desk clerk, giving his forged name. He dropped the bags on the floor and you wrapped yourself around his now-free arm, squeezing it.
“Hello, Mr. Anderson.” She smiled back, “Let’s see. You had the penthouse, correct?”
“That’s right.”
“We’re celebrating our engagement!” You beamed, holding out your hand, showing off your fake engagement ring.
“That’s lovely. Congratulations! We’ll have a bottle of champagne in your room for celebration.”
“Thank you so much!” You squeaked.
He finished the check-in process, then you headed to the top floor.
The penthouse was absolutely gorgeous. It was huge, the size of a decent apartment. Just like the lobby, you were afraid to break something.
“Wow.. This is amazing. Only time I’ll ever get to stay in a penthouse and it’s with you.” You said, as he shut the door.
“I was just thinking the same thing. Now, c’mon we gotta go to the pool. Get changed.” He handed you your bag.
You opened it, pulling out your bikini. It was the only one you had, admittedly from a few years ago. You didn’t have time anymore to relax by a pool or go swimming in the ocean, so this swimsuit had to do. It was a simple black string bikini.
You went inside the bathroom to change. Once you had your swimsuit on, you felt a little self conscious at the amount of skin showing, but figured it’d help with the whole ‘can’t keep your hands off your new fiance’ vibe you and Logan needed to exude for this mission.
You walked out of the bathroom, faking confidence you didn’t have. Logan had taken the opportunity to just change in the living space since he was alone. He was wearing black swim trunks. It was funny, it looked like you two had matched on purpose.
“Wow.” He said quietly, clearing his throat.
“What? You like what you see?” You joked at his clear uncomfortableness with seeing you in such little clothing.
“Whatever, let’s just go.” He spat, grabbing two towels, the key, and exiting the room.
The second you were out the door, you both had big smiles on your face. His arm was around you, holding your side as you headed to the pool.
It wasn’t too busy, just a few kids with their parents, and a bartender at the outdoor bar. You told him you wanted a drink, so that’s where you headed first.
“Hey, can I get two Mojitos?” Logan asked, handing him the room key “And can you just charge it to our room?”
“Of course,” He started working on the drinks immediately, while you two sat and people-watched. He finished the drinks, and gave you them and the room key back.
You said thank you as you walked off, hoping Logan would just follow. There was a small hot tub that was empty, so that’s where you went. You stepped in carefully, afraid of slipping, and sat down in the warm water.
“Really?” Logan whispered, a fake smile still adorned on his face.
“This is what couples do, Logan. And we’re a couple for this weekend. So sit down and act like you love me, sweetie.” Your grin was starting to hurt your cheeks.
He sat down across from you, and you mentally rolled your eyes. You got up, and repositioned yourself, sitting in his lap, “What part of ‘act like you love me’ are you not getting?” 
He was frozen for a moment, caught off guard but quickly acted like he was happy to have you there, to not draw suspicion. You both took sips of your drink, as you continued to nonchalantly looked around.
You two stayed at the pool for awhile, taking mental notes of the guests and employees you saw. Honestly, this hotel didn’t seem too strange. But Xavier said it was a front so you guessed that’s why it seemed so normal, for their cover.
Once your drinks were empty, and the sun had started to go down, you both decided to head back up to the room. He got out drying himself off before wrapping you up in your towel. He picked you up and carried you bridal-style to the penthouse.
“Logan!”
“What? Just acting like I love you.” He smirked.
Once inside the room, he set you down. “I’m gonna go shower.” You stated, not really knowing what to do. 
He just nodded, walking off to the kitchenette. You grabbed your bag and headed to the bathroom.
***
You mentally cursed yourself as you scrambled through your bag, searching for a pair of pajama shorts you thought you packed, but they were nowhere to be found. 
“This cannot be real.” You whispered. The only other clothes you brought were jean shorts, and you sure as hell weren’t going to sleep in those.
You pulled out your oversized sleepshirt, putting it on. The hem landed right above the middle of your thigh. It was a little shorter than the length of a nightgown, so you just hoped he wouldn’t notice. You slipped on a pair of panties, snatched up your things, and exited the bathroom.
You immediately bumped into Logan, who was standing right outside the door.
“What the fuck?” You raised your voice, annoyed. “Why are you right outside the door?”
“I was about to knock. You’ve been in there for over an hour.”
“It’s all yours!” You sassed.
You walked over to the small kitchen, and see he had already opened up the champagne. You had a glass as you sat on a barstool, writing down some notes about the people you’d observed earlier. Pouring yourself another glass, you headed over to the bed.
Just as you made yourself comfortable, Logan came out of the washroom, in just a towel. You stared at his wet torso for a moment, hypnotized.
“My eyes are up here.” He laughed.
You looked up, embarrassed.
“Forgot my clothes. Hey, wait, why are you in the bed?”
“…Because I’m the girl?”
“You're also the short one. I can’t fit on that couch.”
“Oh, c’mon. It’s a big bed. We can both fit just fine. Unless you’re nervous. Never slept with a girl before, Lo?”
He sighed, clearly not wanting to argue, before taking his clothes and escaping back to the bathroom. You silently celebrated your victory.
He came out a few moments later, turning off the lights, sliding under the blankets and getting comfortable. You both ended up facing the same direction. If he was any closer, he’d be the big spoon, but there was a few inches separating you.
You adjusted your body, and accidentally felt your ass rub against him. You went rigid from humiliation, before scooting away slightly, ignoring it since he didn’t say anything.
You tried to fall asleep, but it was difficult, for many reasons. One, you’re not used to having someone else in your bed. Two, he was breathing heavily. Three, you couldn’t stop thinking about how sexy he was.
Of course, you knew Logan was attractive, you’d thought that since the moment you first saw him. But today, probably because of the faux-gagement, the touching, the flirting, you saw him differently. He was still getting on your nerves, but the flames between you two… His body… It was unlike before.
You exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You twiddled your feet, moving around your body nervously, before unintentionally grazing your ass against his crotch again.
“Y’know, if you keep rubbing your ass against my dick, I’m gonna do something about it.” His words sounded gruff in your ear, but they gave you butterflies.
“Maybe that’s what I want.” 
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
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pucksandpower · 4 months ago
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Black Widow
Toto Wolff x black widow!Reader
Summary: Lewis Hamilton and George Russell are convinced you’re trying to kill their team principal, and, to be fair, you do have a trail of seven dead extremely wealthy husbands behind you … but it’s not what they think, you promise
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The soft beep of medical equipment provides a rhythmic backdrop as you sit beside the ornate mahogany bed, your manicured fingers intertwined with those of your latest husband, Reginald Worthington III.
At 89 years old, Reggie, as you affectionately call him, is by far your oldest conquest yet. His wrinkled face, now gaunt from months of illness, still manages a weak smile as he gazes at you.
“My darling,” Reggie wheezes, his voice barely above a whisper, “I hope you know how much joy you’ve brought to these final months of mine.”
You lean in, your silky hair cascading over your shoulder as you press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Oh, Reggie. The pleasure has been all mine.”
It’s not entirely a lie. While you don’t love Reggie — or any of your previous husbands, for that matter — you’ve grown fond of the old codger. He’s certainly been the most amusing of your elderly spouses.
Reggie’s eyes twinkle with mischief, a ghost of the rakish playboy he must have been in his youth. “Now, now, my dear. We both know this has been a mutually beneficial arrangement. But I do hope I’ve provided some entertainment along the way.”
You can’t help but chuckle. “You’ve been a delight, darling. Truly.”
As if on cue, Reggie is seized by a coughing fit. You quickly grab a glass of water from the bedside table, helping him take small sips until the spasms subside. When he catches his breath, he fixes you with a serious look.
“Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you. About the will.”
Your heart skips a beat, but you keep your face carefully neutral. “Reggie, please. We don’t need to discuss such morbid topics.”
He waves a dismissive hand. “Nonsense. We both know why you’re here, and it’s not to admire the wallpaper. Now listen, because this is important.”
You lean in closer, curiosity piqued despite yourself.
Reggie’s voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. “In addition to the usual — the houses, the cars, the offshore accounts — I’m leaving you my stake in the Mercedes Formula 1 team.”
Your eyes widen in genuine surprise. “The racing team? Reggie, I had no idea you were involved with-”
He cuts you off with a wheezy laugh. “Oh, my dear. There’s so much you don’t know about me. Did you think I made my fortune selling denture cream?”
You can’t help but smile. “Well, I did wonder about all those trophies in your study.”
“Remnants of a misspent youth,” Reggie says with a wistful sigh. “But this, this is my crowning achievement. A 33% stake in one of the most successful F1 teams in history.”
Your mind reels at the implications. This is far beyond anything you’d anticipated when you’d set your sights on Reginald Worthington III.
“Reggie, I ... I don’t know what to say.”
He pats your hand affectionately. “You don’t have to say anything, my dear. Just promise me you’ll make the most of it. I’ve always admired your ambition. It reminds me of myself at your age.”
You lean back in your chair, studying the old man before you. In that moment, you feel a surge of genuine affection for him.
“I promise, Reggie. I’ll make you proud.”
He nods, satisfied. “Good. Now, tell me about the others. I want to know how I measure up to my predecessors.”
You laugh, shaking your head in amazement. “Are you sure? It’s quite a list.”
Reggie’s eyes sparkle with interest. “My dear, I’m on my deathbed. Regale me with tales of your conquests.”
With a theatrical sigh, you begin. “Well, if you insist. Let’s see ... first, there was Harold.”
“Ah, the virgin husband,” Reggie interrupts with a knowing nod.
You raise an eyebrow. “And how did you know that?”
He winks. “I have my sources. Go on.”
“Right. Well, Harold was a sweet man. A bit naive, perhaps, but genuinely kind. He left me his tech startup. It wasn’t worth much at the time, but I sold it for a tidy sum a year later.”
Reggie nods approvingly. “Smart move. Who was next?”
“After Harold came George. He was ... intense. A retired army general with a penchant for war stories and expensive scotch. Left me his collection of rare military memorabilia.”
“Fascinating,” Reggie murmurs. “And the others?”
You tick them off on your fingers. “Let’s see ... there was Joaquin, the passionate Spanish chef. He left me his Michelin-starred restaurants. Then came Dmitri, the Russian oligarch. That was ... an experience.”
Reggie chuckles. “I bet it was. What did he leave you?”
“A series of shell companies and a rather gaudy yacht. I sold the yacht, kept the companies.” You pause, lost in thought for a moment. “After Dmitri was William, the British lord. Lovely man, terrible teeth. Left me his crumbling estate and title.”
“So you’re technically a lady now?” Reggie asks, amused.
You nod. “Lady Y/N, at your service. Though I don’t use the title much. It tends to raise questions.”
“Understandable. And the last one before me?”
Your expression softens slightly. “Ah, that was Hiroshi. Japanese tech mogul. Brilliant mind, but so lonely. I think I was the first real companionship he’d had in years.”
Reggie studies you carefully. “You were fond of him.”
You nod, a bit surprised by the lump in your throat. “I was. He ... he understood me, I think. More than the others.”
There’s a moment of silence as Reggie processes this information. Finally, he speaks. “And what did Hiroshi leave you?”
You smile wryly. “His AI research company. It’s been ... interesting, to say the least.”
Reggie nods slowly. “Quite a collection you’ve amassed, my dear. But tell me, what drives you? Surely it’s not just the money.”
You’re taken aback by the question. No one has ever asked you that before. You take a moment to gather your thoughts.
“I suppose ... it’s the challenge of it all. The thrill of reinventing myself with each new husband, of navigating these complex worlds they inhabit. And yes, the wealth is nice, but it’s more about what I can do with it.”
Reggie leans forward, intrigued. “And what is it you want to do?”
You pause, realizing you’ve never really articulated this to anyone before. “I want to make a difference. Real, lasting change. These men, they’ve all built empires in their own ways, but they’ve been limited by their own mortality. I don’t have those limitations yet. I can take what they’ve given me and create something ... more.”
Reggie’s eyes light up with understanding. “Ah, now I see why I was drawn to you. You’re not just a pretty face or a clever mind. You’re a visionary.”
You feel a flush of pride at his words. “I try to be. Each husband has taught me something new, given me tools I never had before. Harold showed me the potential of technology. George taught me strategy. Joaquin, the importance of passion in one’s work. Dmitri, how to navigate the murky waters of international business. William gave me a glimpse into old-world power structures. And Hiroshi ... well, he opened my eyes to the future.”
Reggie nods slowly. “And what have I taught you, I wonder?”
You smile softly. “Patience, Reggie. The long game. And the value of a good sense of humor in the face of adversity.”
He chuckles weakly. “Well, I’m glad I could contribute something to your education. Now, about this F1 team ...”
You lean in, eager to hear more. “Yes?”
“It’s more than just a racing team, you know. It’s a pinnacle of engineering, a testament to human ingenuity and the constant push for improvement. I think you’ll find it fits quite well with your ambitions.”
You nod slowly, mind already racing with possibilities. “I can see that. The technology, the global platform, the prestige ...”
Reggie grins. “Exactly. And who knows? Maybe you’ll find husband number eight in the paddock.”
You laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, Reggie. Always thinking ahead, aren’t you?”
He winks. “Someone has to. Now, promise me one thing.”
“Anything,” you say, and you’re surprised to find you mean it.
“When you’re accepting that championship trophy — because I know you will — wear something fabulous. Give those stuffy old men in the paddock something to talk about.”
You can’t help but grin. “Oh, don’t worry. I intend to shake things up a bit.”
Reggie nods approvingly. “That’s my girl. Now, I think I need to rest for a bit. But don’t go far. I want to hear all about your plans for world domination when I wake up.”
As you watch Reggie drift off to sleep, you can’t help but feel a mix of emotions. Sadness at the impending loss of this charming old rogue, excitement at the unexpected opportunity he’s given you, and a renewed sense of purpose.
You glance at your reflection in the ornate mirror across the room. Lady Y/N Y/L/N, soon-to-be racing magnate. It has a nice ring to it.
As you settle back into your chair, you begin to plan your next moves. The motorsport world won’t know what hit it.
***
The sleek boardroom of the Mercedes-AMG Petronas F1 Team headquarters buzzes with hushed conversation. Around the polished mahogany table, team executives and board members huddle in small groups, their voices low and urgent.
Toto catches snippets of conversation as he reviews his notes for the meeting.
“Did you hear? She’s actually coming today,” whispers Bradley, the team’s financial officer.
Sarah, head of marketing, leans in. “I can’t believe Reginald left her his stake. What was he thinking?”
“Probably wasn’t thinking with his head, if you know what I mean,” chuckles Thomas, the technical director.
Toto clears his throat, silencing the gossip. “Let’s keep things professional, shall we? We have important matters to discuss today.”
As if on cue, the boardroom door swings open. The room falls into an immediate, almost eerie silence as you stride in, turning heads with every click of your Manolo Blahnik heels against the polished floor.
Toto finds himself holding his breath, caught off guard by your presence. He’s seen photos, of course, but they didn’t do you justice. Your tailored Armani suit exudes power and confidence, while your eyes scan the room with a shrewd intelligence that sends a shiver down his spine.
You take your seat at the far end of the table, directly opposite Toto. “Good morning, everyone. I hope I’m not late.”
Your voice, smooth as silk with a hint of amusement, breaks the spell. The room erupts into a flurry of awkward greetings and nervous coughs.
Toto clears his throat again, trying to regain control of the situation. “Not at all. We were just about to begin. Welcome, Lady Worthington. We’re honored to have you join us today.”
You smile, a dazzling display that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Please, call me Y/N. We’re all colleagues here, after all.”
Toto nods, fighting to keep his composure. “Of course, Y/N. Shall we begin with the agenda?”
As the meeting progresses, Toto finds himself increasingly distracted. He’s used to being the most commanding presence in any room, but your arrival has shifted the dynamic entirely. Every time you speak, offering insights or asking pointed questions, the rest of the board seems to hold its breath.
“I’ve been reviewing our sustainability initiatives,” you say during a lull in the conversation. “While I applaud our efforts so far, I believe we could be doing more. Formula 1 has an unique platform to drive innovation in green technologies. We should be leading the charge, not just following along.”
Bradley shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “With all due respect, Lady- I mean, Y/N, implementing new sustainability measures could be quite costly. We need to consider the bottom line.”
You lean forward, fixing Bradley with an intense gaze. “And what about the cost of falling behind? Of being seen as out of touch with the concerns of younger fans? Sometimes, you have to spend money to make money.”
Toto finds himself nodding in agreement before he even realizes it. “Y/N raises an excellent point. Perhaps we should form a task force to explore more aggressive sustainability options.”
You flash him a grateful smile, and Toto feels his heart skip a beat. He quickly looks down at his notes, trying to regain his composure.
As the meeting continues, you consistently challenge the status quo, pushing for bolder strategies and innovative approaches. Toto watches in fascination as you deftly navigate the complex dynamics of the board, alternating between charm and steel as the situation demands.
During a discussion about driver development, you interject again. “I’ve been looking into our junior driver program, and I think we’re missing opportunities. We’re too focused on traditional racing backgrounds. What about sim racers? Or scouting karters from developing countries? We could be tapping into a whole new pool of talent.”
Sarah, the marketing head, perks up at this. “That’s ... actually a brilliant idea. It could really broaden our appeal, especially in emerging markets.”
You nod appreciatively. “Exactly. And imagine the stories we could tell. The sim racer who became an F1 champion or the kid from a small village who rose to the top of motorsport. That’s the kind of narrative that builds brand loyalty and inspires the next generation of fans.”
Toto finds himself leaning forward, completely engrossed. “I love this direction. Y/N, would you be willing to work with Sarah to develop a proposal for expanding our driver search?”
“Of course,” you reply with a smile that makes Toto’s pulse quicken. “I’d be delighted.”
As the meeting winds down, Toto realizes that the entire dynamic of the board has shifted. The initial wariness towards you has given way to a mixture of respect and curiosity. Even those who seemed most skeptical at the start are now hanging on your every word.
“Well,” Toto says, glancing at his watch, “I think that concludes our agenda for today. Unless anyone has any other matters to discuss?”
The room is silent for a moment before you speak up. “Actually, if I may, I’d like to address the elephant in the room.”
A tense hush falls over the gathering. Toto holds his breath, unsure of what’s coming next.
You stand, your posture relaxed but commanding. “I’m aware of the rumors and speculation surrounding my ... personal life. I want to assure all of you that my presence here is purely professional. I’m not here to cause drama or upheaval. I’m here because I believe in the potential of this team and this sport. I hope that over time, you’ll come to judge me based on my contributions, not on gossip or hearsay.”
The sincerity in your voice is palpable, and Toto can see the effect it has on the room. Shoulders relax, expressions soften. There’s a collective exhale, as if a weight has been lifted.
“Thank you for your honesty,” Toto says, standing as well. “I think I speak for everyone when I say we look forward to working with you and seeing what fresh perspectives you can bring to the team.”
There’s a murmur of agreement around the table. As the meeting officially adjourns, people begin to gather their things and file out of the room. Toto notices that several board members linger, clearly hoping to have a word with you. He feels an unexpected twinge of jealousy.
Before he can second-guess himself, Toto makes his way around the table to where you’re chatting with Sarah about the junior driver program idea.
“Excuse me,” he says, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. “Y/N, I was wondering if I could have a word?”
You turn to him with a smile that makes his heart race. “Of course. What can I do for you?”
He takes a deep breath, acutely aware of the curious glances from the remaining board members. “I was impressed by your insights today. I think there’s a lot we could discuss further about the future direction of the team. Would you perhaps be interested in continuing this conversation over dinner?”
A hush falls over the remaining occupants of the room. Toto can practically feel the weight of their stares, but he keeps his eyes fixed on you.
You raise an eyebrow, a mix of surprise and amusement playing across your features. “Dinner? My, my, Toto. Aren’t you afraid of me? I do have quite the reputation, you know.”
There’s a challenge in your voice, but also a hint of vulnerability that catches Toto off guard. He realizes that beneath your confident exterior, you’re testing him, gauging his true intentions.
Toto meets your gaze steadily, his voice low but firm. “I don’t put much stock in rumors. I prefer to form my own opinions based on what I see and experience. And what I’ve seen today is a brilliant, passionate individual who could be a tremendous asset to this team. That’s the person I’m interested in getting to know better.”
The room seems to hold its breath, waiting for your response. You study Toto for a long moment, your expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a genuine smile spreads across your face.
“Well, in that case, I’d be delighted to have dinner with you. Shall we say eight o’clock?”
Toto feels a rush of relief and excitement. “Eight o’clock sounds perfect. I know just the place.”
As you gather your things and prepare to leave, Toto can’t help but feel like he’s standing on the precipice of something monumental. He’s built his career on calculated risks, on seeing potential where others see danger. Looking at you, he knows that this might be the biggest gamble of his life.
But as you turn to give him one last smile before exiting the boardroom, Toto is certain of one thing: it’s a risk he’s more than willing to take.
***
The Monaco Grand Prix paddock buzzes with excitement, a hive of activity as teams prepare for the most glamorous race on the Formula 1 calendar. Lewis Hamilton and George Russell huddle in a quiet corner of the Mercedes garage, their voices low and urgent.
“I’m telling you, mate, something’s not right,” George insists, his eyes darting around to ensure they’re not overheard. “Have you seen the way Toto’s been acting lately? It’s like he’s under some kind of spell.”
Lewis nods grimly, his usual pre-race focus replaced by concern. “I know what you mean. Ever since she came into the picture, it’s like he’s a different person. Always distracted, making decisions that don’t quite add up.”
“Exactly!” George exclaims, then quickly lowers his voice again. “And have you noticed how she’s always around now? At every meeting, every strategy session. It’s like she’s trying to learn all our secrets.”
Lewis furrows his brow, deep in thought. “You don’t think ... I mean, surely she wouldn’t actually try to ...”
“Kill him?” George finishes, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know, mate. But look at her track record. Seven husbands, all dead within months of marrying her. And now she’s got her claws into Toto.”
As if summoned by their conversation, you appear at the entrance of the garage, Toto at your side. The team principal’s hand rests comfortably on the small of your back as he leads you through the bustling workspace.
Lewis and George fall silent, watching intently as you make your way towards them. Your designer sundress and oversized sunglasses scream understated elegance, but to the two drivers, you might as well be wearing a black widow’s web.
“Good morning,” Toto calls out cheerfully. “Ready for qualifying?”
Lewis forces a smile, his eyes never leaving you. “Morning, Toto. Yeah, we were just discussing strategy.”
You step forward, flashing a dazzling smile. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything important. I’m still learning all the intricacies of race weekends.”
George clears his throat, trying to keep his voice steady. “Not at all. We were just finishing up.”
Toto beams, looking from you to his drivers with pride. “Isn’t it wonderful having Y/N here? She’s already brought so many fresh ideas to the team. I don’t know how we managed without her.”
You laugh, a sound that sends chills down Lewis and George’s spines. “Oh, darling, you’re exaggerating. I’m sure these boys were doing just fine before I came along.”
As you speak, your hand reaches up to smooth Toto’s collar, a gesture that seems innocent enough but makes both drivers tense.
Lewis clears his throat. “Actually, Toto, could we have a quick word? About the, uh, tire strategy?”
Toto looks surprised but nods. “Of course. Y/N, would you mind giving us a moment?”
“Not at all,” you reply smoothly. “I’ll just go chat with the mechanics. I’m fascinated by all this technology.”
As you saunter away, Lewis and George exchange a meaningful glance. This is their chance.
“Toto,” Lewis begins, choosing his words carefully. “We’re a bit concerned. About you, actually.”
Toto’s brow furrows in confusion. “Concerned? What do you mean?”
George jumps in, his words tumbling out in a rush. “It’s just that ... well, things have been different since you started seeing her. And given her history ...”
“Her history?” Toto repeats, his voice taking on an edge. “What exactly are you implying?”
Lewis takes a deep breath. “Toto, we care about you. And we can’t help but notice that Y/N’s previous partners have all met with ... unfortunate ends.”
For a moment, Toto just stares at them, his expression unreadable. Then, to their surprise, he bursts out laughing.
“Oh, boys,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I appreciate your concern, truly. But I assure you, it’s misplaced. Y/N has been nothing but a positive influence on both me and the team.”
George persists, his voice urgent. “But Toto, you have to admit, the pattern is alarming. Seven husbands, all dead within months of marriage. And now she’s here, learning all about our team, our strategies ...”
Toto’s amusement fades, replaced by a stern look. “That’s enough. I understand you’re worried, but I won’t have you spreading baseless rumors. Y/N is here because she’s a part-owner of this team and because I invited her. End of discussion.”
As Toto walks away, Lewis and George share a look of dismay.
“He’s in too deep,” Lewis mutters. “We need to do something.”
George nods grimly. “We can’t let her hurt him. Or the team. We need a plan.”
Throughout the day, as qualifying unfolds, Lewis and George find themselves constantly distracted. Every time they catch a glimpse of you in the garage or on the pit wall, their imaginations run wild.
During a brief break between sessions, they overhear a snippet of conversation between you and one of the engineers.
“So, if something were to go wrong with the car during the race,” you’re saying, “what would be the most catastrophic point of failure?”
The engineer launches into a detailed explanation of various mechanical vulnerabilities, unaware of the horrified looks on the drivers’ faces.
“She’s gathering intel,” George whispers to Lewis. “Probably planning some sort of accident for Toto.”
Lewis nods, his jaw set with determination. “We need to warn him again. Make him see reason.”
But their attempts to get Toto alone prove futile. You seem to be constantly by his side, your hand on his arm, whispering in his ear. To an outsider, it might look like the actions of a loving girlfriend, but to Lewis and George, every gesture seems calculated and sinister.
As the day wears on, their paranoia grows. They start seeing threats everywhere. When you hand Toto a bottle of water, they’re convinced it’s poisoned. When you suggest he take a look at something in the back of the garage, they’re sure you’re luring him away to do him harm.
Finally, as the sun begins to set over the Monaco harbor, they decide they can’t wait any longer. They need to confront you directly.
They find you alone in the hospitality area, reviewing some papers. As they approach, you look up with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.
“Lewis, George,” you greet them warmly. “Excellent qualifying today. You must be pleased.”
Lewis takes a deep breath, steeling himself. “Cut the act. We know what you’re up to.”
Your expression doesn’t change, but something flickers in your eyes. “I’m not sure I understand. What exactly am I up to?”
George steps forward, his voice low and intense. “We know about your husbands. All seven of them. And we’re not going to let you add Toto to that list.”
For a moment, you just stare at them, your face unreadable. Then, to their surprise, you burst out laughing.
“Oh,” you chuckle, shaking your head. “Is that what this is all about? You think I’m here to kill Toto?”
Lewis and George exchange confused glances, thrown off by your reaction.
You lean in, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Let me tell you a little secret. Those men? They were all terminally ill when I married them. It was a business arrangement, pure and simple. They got to spend their last months with a young, beautiful wife, and I got their fortunes. No foul play involved.”
The drivers stare at you, speechless. You continue, your tone becoming more serious.
“As for Toto, well, that’s different. For the first time in my life, I’ve found someone I genuinely care for. Someone who sees me for who I am, not just what I can offer. I’m not here to hurt him or the team. I’m here because I want to be part of something meaningful.”
Lewis and George exchange uncertain glances, their convictions shaken.
“But ... all the questions about the car, the team strategies ...” George begins.
You roll your eyes, a hint of amusement in your voice. “I’m a part-owner of this team now, remember? Of course I’m trying to learn everything I can. How else can I contribute?”
As the truth of your words sinks in, Lewis and George begin to feel a creeping sense of embarrassment. They’ve let their imaginations and preconceptions run wild, seeing threats where there were none.
“I ... we ...” Lewis stammers, struggling to find the right words.
You hold up a hand, stopping him. “It’s alright. I understand. My reputation precedes me, and you were just looking out for Toto. I can respect that.”
George rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. “We may have gotten a bit carried away. I’m sorry.”
You smile, and this time it reaches your eyes. “Apology accepted. Now, what do you say we put this behind us and focus on winning tomorrow’s race?”
As if on cue, Toto appears, looking between the three of you with curiosity. “Everything alright here?”
You stand, moving to his side and slipping your arm through his. “Everything’s perfect, darling. In fact, I think Lewis and George were just about to share some ideas they had for the race strategy. Weren’t you, boys?”
Lewis and George nod, grateful for the out you’ve given them. As they launch into a discussion about tire management and overtaking opportunities, they can’t help but marvel at how wrong they’ve been.
Watching you interact with Toto, they see not a black widow spinning her web, but a woman genuinely in love, bringing out the best in their team principal. They realize that sometimes, people can surprise you. And sometimes, the most unexpected additions to a team can be the most valuable.
***
The soft glow of chandeliers bathes the exclusive Monégasque restaurant in warm light, casting elegant shadows across the faces of Monaco’s elite. Grigori Volkov, a grizzled veteran of the Russian underworld, sips his vodka, his weathered face a mask of careful neutrality as he surveys the room.
His eyes narrow as they land on a familiar figure across the crowded dining area. It can’t be, he thinks, leaning forward for a better look. But there’s no mistaking that face, those eyes that have haunted his dreams and nightmares for years.
You.
Grigori watches as you laugh, your hand resting lightly on the arm of a tall, distinguished-looking man. He recognizes him vaguely. But what catches Grigori off guard is the easy intimacy between you, the matching wedding bands glinting in the low light.
For a moment, Grigori considers slipping out unnoticed. But curiosity gets the better of him. He signals the waiter, ordering another round of drinks to be sent to your table.
As the waiter approaches with the drinks, Grigori sees your posture stiffen slightly, your eyes scanning the room until they lock onto his. He raises his glass in a small salute, a wry smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
You lean in, whispering something to Toto. The man looks surprised but nods, and together you make your way towards Grigori’s table.
“Grigori,” you greet him, your voice a mix of warmth and wariness. “It’s been a long time.”
Grigori stands, bowing slightly. “Indeed it has, my dear. You’re looking well. And who might this be?”
Toto extends his hand, his grip firm. “Toto Wolff. And you are?”
“An old friend of your wife’s,” Grigori replies smoothly, noting the flicker of surprise in Toto’s eyes at the word ’wife’. “Grigori Volkov. I knew Y/N back in her Russian days.”
You gesture to the empty chairs. “May we join you?”
Grigori nods, waving expansively. “Please, be my guests.”
As you settle in, Grigori can’t help but study Toto more closely. He’s younger than expected, vital and alert. Not at all what he’d imagined for your latest conquest.
“So, Toto,” Grigori begins, his accent thick with amusement, “how long have you and our dear Y/N been married?”
Toto smiles, his hand finding yours on the table. “Just over two years now. Best decision I ever made.”
Grigori’s eyebrows shoot up. “Two years? My, my. That’s quite impressive.”
You shoot him a warning look, but Toto just looks confused. “I’m not sure I follow. Why is that impressive?”
Grigori chuckles, taking a long sip of his vodka. “Oh, forgive me. I just meant that Y/N here has always been something of a ... how do you say ... free spirit? Never one to be tied down for long.”
You interject quickly, “People change, Grigori. I’ve found what I was looking for.”
Grigori nods, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Indeed they do. And what of your ... other interests? The ones you inherited from dear Dmitri?”
Toto’s brow furrows. “Dmitri? I’m afraid I don’t know much about Y/N’s ex-husbands.”
“Ex-husbands?” Grigori repeats, feigning surprise. “Oh, but Dmitri was special, wasn’t he? After all, not every day one inherits a slice of the Bratva.”
The color drains from Toto’s face as he turns to you. “The Bratva? As in, the Russian mob?”
You sigh, shooting Grigori a glare that could freeze vodka. “It’s complicated, darling. And very much in the past.”
Grigori leans back, thoroughly enjoying the drama unfolding before him. “Oh, come now, Y/N. Surely your husband deserves to know the truth? About your colorful past, your string of deceased husbands, your unexpected rise to power in certain ... shall we say, unofficial circles?”
Toto looks between you and Grigori, his expression a mix of confusion and growing concern. “Y/N, what is he talking about?”
You take a deep breath, squeezing Toto’s hand. “Toto, there are parts of my past I haven’t told you about. Not because I wanted to keep secrets, but because I wanted to leave that life behind.”
Grigori interjects, his voice dripping with false sympathy. “Oh, but my dear, can one ever truly leave such a life behind? Especially when one has risen to such ... prominent positions?”
Toto’s eyes narrow as he looks at Grigori. “And what exactly is your role in all this?”
Grigori smiles, all teeth and no warmth. “Let’s just say I’m an old associate of Dmitri’s. And by extension, of Y/N’s. Though I must admit, I’m surprised to see you still among the living, Mr. Wolff. Our dear Y/N has quite a reputation, you know.”
You slam your hand on the table, your voice low and dangerous. “Enough, Grigori. That’s not who I am anymore.”
Grigori holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Of course, of course. I meant no offense. I’m merely ... surprised. After all, your previous husbands weren’t quite so fortunate. Or so young and vigorous.”
Toto’s jaw clenches, his eyes darting between you and Grigori. “I think it’s time we left.”
As you stand to leave, Grigori calls out, “Oh, but we’ve only just begun to catch up. There’s so much your husband doesn’t know, Y/N. About the power you wield, the empire you inherited. Don’t you think he deserves to know the truth about the woman he married?”
You turn back, your eyes flashing with a mix of anger and something deeper, more dangerous. “The truth, Grigori, is that I left that life behind. I found something real, something worth living for. And if you or anyone else tries to drag me back into that world, you’ll regret it.”
Grigori leans forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Is that a threat, my dear?”
You smile, cold and sharp. “Consider it a friendly warning. From one old friend to another.”
As you and Toto walk away, Grigori can’t help but feel a shiver run down his spine. He’d forgotten, in the years since you’d left Russia, just how formidable you could be.
He watches as you and Toto have an intense, whispered conversation by the exit. To his surprise, instead of storming out, Toto nods, takes your hand, and leads you back to Grigori’s table.
“Mr. Volkov,” Toto says, his voice steady and controlled, “I think it’s time we had an honest conversation. About Y/N’s past, about your ... association, and about how we move forward from here.”
Grigori raises an eyebrow, impressed despite himself. “Well, well. It seems you’ve found yourself a man with a spine, Y/N. Very well, let’s talk.”
As the three of you settle back into your seats, Grigori can’t help but feel a grudging respect for Toto. Most men would have run for the hills by now, but here he is, ready to face the truth head-on.
“So,” Grigori begins, pouring fresh vodka for all of you, “where shall we start? With Dmitri? With the Bratva? Or perhaps with the mysterious deaths of Y/N’s previous husbands?”
Toto takes a sip of vodka, his eyes never leaving Grigori’s. “Let’s start with the truth. All of it.”
You sigh, your hand finding Toto’s under the table. “Alright. Dmitri was my fifth husband. He was a high-ranking member of the Bratva, and when he died, I inherited his position and his connections.”
Grigori nods approvingly. “She’s being modest. Y/N didn’t just inherit Dmitri’s position — she expanded it. Forged new alliances, eliminated rivals. She became a force to be reckoned with in our world.”
Toto looks at you, his expression unreadable. “And the other husbands?”
You meet his gaze steadily. “They were all older men, all terminally ill. It was a business arrangement. They got to spend their last months with a young wife, and I got their fortunes. No foul play, I swear.”
Grigori chuckles. “Oh, come now. There were rumors, whispers of poison, of accidents arranged just so ...”
You whirl on him, your eyes flashing. “Rumors started by people like you. People who couldn’t believe a woman could gain power without resorting to murder.”
Toto squeezes your hand, his voice gentle. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”
You turn back to him, your expression softening. “Because I wanted to leave it all behind. When I met you, I saw a chance at a real life, a real relationship. I didn’t want my past to taint that.”
Grigori watches this exchange with growing fascination. He’s never seen you like this — vulnerable, open, genuinely in love. It’s... unsettling.
“And now?” He asks, unable to keep the curiosity from his voice. “What becomes of your empire, Y/N? Your power? Your connections?”
You straighten, your voice firm. “I’ve been systematically dismantling it all. Using the resources to fund legitimate businesses, charitable foundations. I’m out. For good.”
Grigori leans back, genuinely surprised. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You’re really walking away from it all.”
Toto speaks up, his voice steady. “We’re building something new together. Something honest, something we can be proud of.”
Grigori studies them both for a long moment, then throws back the last of his vodka. “Well, I’ll be damned. You’ve actually done it. You’ve found a way out.”
You nod, a small smile playing at your lips. “I have. And I’d appreciate it if you’d spread the word. Y/N Wolff is retired. Permanently.”
Grigori stands, straightening his jacket. “Consider it done, my dear. But know this — there will always be those who remember who you were, what you were capable of. Be careful.”
As he turns to leave, Toto calls out, “Mr. Volkov?”
Grigori pauses, looking back. “Yes?”
Toto’s voice is calm, but there’s steel beneath the surface. “If anyone from Y/N’s past tries to cause trouble for us, they’ll have to deal with me. And I assure you, I can be just as formidable as my wife when necessary.”
Grigori studies Toto for a moment, then breaks into a broad grin. “I believe you, Mr. Wolff. I really do. Take care of her, won’t you? She’s one of a kind.”
As Grigori walks away, he can’t help but shake his head in amazement. You, the Black Widow of the Bratva, settled down and in love. Will wonders never cease?
He glances back one last time to see you and Toto deep in conversation, your hands intertwined on the table. There’s an openness to your expression that he’s never seen before, a vulnerability that speaks volumes.
For the first time in years, Grigori feels a twinge of envy. Not for your power or your wealth, but for the genuine connection you seem to have found. As he steps out into the cool Monaco night, he wonders if perhaps it’s time for him to consider a change of his own.
After all, if the infamous Y/N can find redemption and true love, maybe there’s hope for an old dog like him yet.
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highrook · 2 months ago
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Hello Tumblr!
This is just a short intro post, so I can get a handle on how things work here!
I'm Tom (nullpointer) and I'm a mostly solo indie game dev, I do art, writing, coding and even audio sometimes. I used to be an academic, a published musician and an artist. I've always been interested in Horror fiction/films/games, especially occult & lovecraft adjacent stuff.
I'm currently working on this game
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Its a narrative-heavy occult investigation game that involves a bunch of board-type mechanics and experimental ideas.
Ill try to post more about it. Working on the project has really helped me to improve both my art skills and my writing - particularly learning how to write better for games and limited interfaces (while maintaining a good atmosphere).
Ill finish this for now and drop a link to the game below. there's a demo to try out if you are interested, and Id love to hear any feedback folk might have!
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lerclan · 7 months ago
Text
duct tape | lando norris
type: written + smau at the end
pairing(s): assistant!reader x lando norris
summary: youve been landos assistant for a while now and you were asked to do the most embarrassing thing ever, but it wasnt you that was the most embarrassed in the situation; it was your boss.
warning(s): a funny and POORLY edited photo of lando norris done by me (i was cackling making it 💀)
fc: luisinha oliveira!
---
"you want me to WHAT???" you spit out your drink.
"kiss him." the photographer, elise, says as you stare at your friend, eyes quite literally bulging out, "come on y/n..."
"you act like i kiss random people for fun." you say as you take a proper sip from your water.
"but hes not a random person?" she fires back as you roll your eyes.
"still. hes my boss and looking at the situation in general, thats quite embarrassing to do." you feel your face heat up, "how about we find someone else? i bet i can call someone with really luscious lips." you take out your phone and start scrolling through your contacts.
"no," she lowers your phone as you look at her, "he said he wanted YOU to do it."
"ME???" your jaw drops as elise starts laughing at your reaction, "youre lying."
"no im not!" she puts her pinky up as you intertwine your pinky with hers, "pinky promise."
"why me though?" you asked her curiously.
"i told him about the idea and how the stylist would do the kiss marks but he said he had the perfect someone to do the kiss marks and said your name." she explains as you give her a look, "okay to make it easier for you, hes gonna have duct tape covering his mouth. its for the aesthetics." your look immediately disappears and is replaced with a relieved expression.
"oh, you shouldve told me that earlier." you say as you finally smile, "that sounds a little bit easier to do."
"my bad, kind of forgot about it till i told you the story. woopsies." you laugh at her as she chuckles cheekily, "lets go to the set, its almost time for him to be ready."
you both arrived at the set and you noticed your boss all geared up next to an f1 car.
"i thought the set would be more scandalously themed, but this is so much better than what i anticipated." you let a breath out as elise laughs at you.
"do you think im a pornographer or something? gosh have faith in your friends innocence." she rolls her eyes jokingly and it was your turn to laugh now.
landos head instantly turned to your direction as he heard your laughter. he didnt know if you had agreed to the suggestion, but he hoped that elise didnt bring it up since he was feeling a little embarrassed now for acting impulsively with suggesting you to do the kiss marks instead of the stylist.
with how caught up he was in his thoughts, stressing over his impulsive move, he didnt realize that you guys were in front of him.
"lando? landooo???" you say waving your hands in front of his face.
"oh–yes? hi?" he says as he finally snaps out of it.
"you were zoning out. what were you thinking about this time?" you asked as he smiles.
"nothing in particular, just a little nervous on what to do in this photoshoot." he admits mostly.
"youre gonna do good, boss. dont worry about anything! just do what you usually do, your fans are gonna love it no matter what." you comfort him with a smile as he reciprocates the same expression.
you guys stare into each others eyes for a bit until elise finally interrupted you both.
"ahem! love birds can you guys contain yourselves for a sec–" you slap her shoulder lightly as she laughs at it as landos face turns a bit red, "i was just kidding!! anyways...im just here to tell you that y/n agreed to the idea, so ill be back with some duct tape and red lipstick." she walks off and you were left with lando.
"so...you agreed???" he asks as he feels his face heating up more from the fact that you agreed.
"yeah, at first i thought i was kissing you straight up...which is a very hard task to do considering our positions, but she told me you were gonna have duct tape over your mouth; so its like an indirect kiss. which i can mostly do." you answer his question with a small chuckle as he feels his face heat up more, "are you good, lan? youre looking kinda...red?? ish???"
"yeah, no, im fine. this is fine. im perfectly normal." he says quickly as you eye him out.
you reached for his forehead and noticed it was a little warmer.
"are you sure? you feel a little warm." you say as you start to panic thinking about his schedule for today.
"y/n, i am perfectly fine. its just the suit..." he lies as you look at him with doubtful eyes.
before you could pester him more, elise came back with red lipstick and duct tape just like she said.
"here, put this on your lips and also tape his mouth shut." she says as you grab the items.
"it will probably do us a favor if his mouth is taped shut." you joke as he rolls his eyes at you.
"gosh whats that supposed to mean?" he side eyes you as you laugh.
"it means..." you drag on as he looks at you, waiting for you to answer his question.
"it means wha—" his sentence gets cut off by you taping his mouth, "hmf mhmhf!!" he tries to talk but it comes out muffled.
"what did he say?" elise asks as you both laugh at his attempt.
"he probably said 'you muppet!', to insult me or something." you answer her, mimicking landos voice.
"sounds like him alright. perfect impression!!" she says as you take a small bow.
you put the duct tape down and opened the lipstick so you could put it on, kiss him, and get done with it already.
"you ready, lan?" you ask him as he puts his hands up to rip the tape off his mouth half way.
"no–wait. i need like a drink or something..." he comes up with an excuse as he feels his face get hot again due to the situation he put himself in.
"come on lando..its a quick peck and boom were finished!" you reassure him feeling a little flustered as you realize what youre actually doing, "come here."
he dodges you as you glare at him.
"WAIT. PLEASE GIVE ME A SECOND." he yells out as you roll your eyes getting impatient.
"okay fine." you go back to the spot you were standing in.
you look at him grab a bottle of water to drink and he starts fanning himself.
"are you sure youre good?" you asked as he nods his head quickly.
"dont worry about him, y/n. hes just feeling a little flustered because hes getting an indirect ki—" elise gets cut off by an empty water bottle getting thrown at her, "what the hell LANDO." she throws the water bottle back at him.
you laugh at their little squabble until the water bottle hit you and now theyre the ones laughing at you.
"I ALWAYS CATCH STRAY BULLETS I SWEAR. cant laugh in peace anymore..." you say as they laugh harder, "ANYWAYS, lando come here and let me kiss you." you feel your face heat up as soon as you realized what you really said.
"yeah let her kiss you lando." elise chimes in with a little melody.
"not like that–you know what–gosh whatever come on lando, you have places to be after this." you say finally grabbing his arm as he gets closer to you.
"okay, just do it..." he says as he grabs your arms and puts it around his neck, "WAIT WAIT WAIT AAAAHHHH!!" he yells out as he sees how close you guys are.
"LANDO MAN UP GOSH." you finally grab his face and kissed him on both of his cheeks, his forehead, and his lips. directly. completely forgetting the fact that his mouth was not taped shut.
you both dont notice that you guys were kissing lips directly until you both heard a camera click. you guys pulled back and thats when you noticed his lips completely covered in red.
"OH MY GOOOOSHHHH!!!!" elise squeals out as your eyes widen.
"I AM SO SORRY LANDO. I FORGOT YOU DIDNT HAVE IT ON–" you get cut off by lando.
"no, no. its totally fine, y/n...youre good. simple mistake. im completely normal and youre completely normal." he smiles at you, ready to explode from holding in a scream, as you smile back out of relief.
"also...ELISE DELETE THAT RIGHT NOW." you jump her as shes fighting for her life.
you suddenly feel somebody pull you back, which was lando with a huge grin.
"elise, let me see the photo." he says as you look at him.
elise unlocks her phone and pulls up the photo of you and lando kissing, which was a pretty cute angle and photo. you cursed her photography skills.
"you should totally send me that." he says as your jaw drops, "what? its a cute photo of us." he says not knowing where the confidence suddenly came from.
"before y/n dies from a heart attack, have her kiss you again. WITH the tape on this time." elise says as you felt your eye twitch, jaw still on the floor.
you eventually snapped out of shock and reapplied the lipstick so it was more pigmented and you kissed him again, with the tape over his mouth. you looked up at him and realized that he was smiling. you didnt know why, well you had a hint but you didnt wanna act on it.
lando quickly finished his photoshoot and now it was time to go to another place for an interview. you both entered the car and you were met with silence until he spoke up.
"sooo...do you maybe wanna go out for dinner tonight?" he asks breaking the silence as you look at him.
"arent you hanging out with carlos tonight??" you question him as he cheekily smiles at you.
"not–" he takes out his phone and texts carlos something and looks up to look at you, "anymore."
you laugh at his little act and smiled warmly.
"id love to have dinner with you, lan." you met eye contact as he smiles from ear to ear.
he grabs your hand and intertwines them together, keeping it that way till you both arrived at the interview place.
---
landonorris
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Liked by ynnn, mclaren, elise_amor, and 1,272,183 others
landonorris dropping in with a kiss 💋
tagged: eaphotography
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mclaren our driver has never looked better! 🧡
landonorris thanks, mclaren!!! 🧡🧡🧡
user1 OMG I AM SCREAMINGAHEB
user2 HE LOOKS SO FINE OH MY GOSH
user3 WHY DOES HE LOOK SO SEXY 😻😻😻
user4 real question tho...who gave him those marks? 🤨🤨🤨
user5 probably the stylist or something
eaphotography nuh uh
user5 HUHH???
eaphotography 🤫🧏‍♀️
user6 HELPPPP
user7 im so jealous of the person that did that 😭😭😭
user8 CHAT I WANT HIM SO BAD
carlossainz55 wow is that why you were busy mate?
landonorris no? 🙄
carlossainz55 elise sent me a photo, are you sure? 😒😒
landonorris SHHHHHH
elise_amor LMFAOOO
ynnn MAN WHAT THE FLIP DELETE IT
elise_amor NEVERRRR. YOU GUYS LOOK TOO CUTE.
user9 photo? 🤨
ynnn NOTHING.
user10 what if this was a soft launch or something 😻😻😻
landonorris yeah..that would be totes..crazy...👀
user10 IT IS?!?&2&:
ynnn LANDO SHUT UP.
user11 GUYS LANDO AND HIS ASSISTANT, Y/N, ARE DATING 😳😳😳
user10 I AGREE W YOU
user12 how??
user11 i saw them kiss last night at this one restaurant
ynnn @/landonorris YOU SAID IT WAS A BLIND SPOT...
landonorris woops...cats out of the bag ig ☺️☺️☺️
user11 OH MY GOSH!/!/&2&:
user10 WHAT THE SIGMA
lerclan HELPPP THE PHOTO IS SO FUNNY
---
ynnn
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Liked by elise_amor, landonorris, carlossainz55, and 26,173 others
ynnn bro cannot keep his mouth shut. BRING BACK THE DUCT TAPE.
tagged: landonorris
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landonorris IM SORRY IM JUST HAPPY BABE 😻
ynnn youre lucky youre cute ❤️
Comments on this post have been limited
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authors note(s): iaheiqhehwjq i hope this was good cuz i absolutely had no plot line 💀
ALSO YOU DK HOW BAD I WAS DYING AT ME EDITING THAT PHOTO OF LANDO I LITERALLY COULD NOT BREATHE 😭😭😭
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rainydayathogwarts · 3 months ago
Note
Protective Aaron Hotchner with wife reader during their son, Jack soccer game. Fluff and maybe suggestive 👀 Thanks!! :))
0.7k words
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The two chairs you laid out for you and Aaron stay empty as you make sure Jack is hydrated enough before running onto the field, pressing one last 'good luck' kiss to his temple. When he's on and the coach instructs the beginning of their warmup, you settle into the chair, stretching your legs in the sun, enjoying the warmth on your skin. The weather has just begun warming up with the seasonal change into spring, yet you still wear a stolen knit sweater from your husband's wardrobe. The whistle blows, signalling the start of the game. Leaning to the side, you reached for the iced drink on the floor beside you, but when you straightened back up, you found that someone had invaded your space. "Oh! Hello." You laughed in shock, eyes flickering between the broad-shouldered man in front of you and your son's game.
"Hey! Figured since Jack's playing, this chair will be empty for a bit." His hair was greying, and he sported a salt and pepper beard, a false look of security and trust in his eyes. Furrowing your eyebrows at him, you sipped your drink silently. His failed attempt at a joke had his shoulders slumping subtly with insecurity, though he tried re-engaging you by sitting down in your husband's chair without hesitation. You blinked a couple of times, taken aback by the man's audacity. Sure, he'd taken your husband's seat - red flag number one - but why did he know Jack's name when you had no idea who he was? Aaron had cursed you with his wariness. "Which one's your kid?" You questioned cautiously, observing carefully as he took a swing of his beer at the bright hour of ten in the morning. "Oh, Bryce over there. Let's go Bryce, good job buddy!!" He yelled out towards the game before disinterestedly turning back to face you. "I'm guessing you don't recognise me?" The nameless man started, leaning back in Aaron's chair, "I always see you here. It's either you or your boyfriend right? Mostly you though. I'm guessing he's not around often." He glanced away, his beer at his lips, a cocky smirk gracing his feature. He definitely thought he got you with that one.
Glimpsing down at the ring on your left hand with an incredulous expression, you held in a mocking laugh. Opening your mouth to retort, you were interrupted by someone else's words. "Husband. I'd thought anyone would be able to tell by the ring on her finger. And I hate to be that person man, but you're in my seat." Your head snapped towards your husband's deep, authoritative voice, a smile making it's way onto your features. "Aaron! You're early!" You jumped up, throwing your arms over Aaron's shoulder and pulling him towards you for a chaste kiss. Aaron returned your smile, letting his hands linger at your waist before turning his gaze to the ill-mannered man. You pretended not to notice his intimidating glare towards the man until he left, busying your gaze with the match happening in front of you.
When Aaron's hands slipped away from your waist, you turned your attention back to him, grinning when you saw him take his rightful place on the garden chair, rolling his shoulders back. You crouched down to retrieve his drink, staring at him happily when he thanked you and took a sip from it, snaking his hand in yours. "Thought you'd take longer." You mumbled, cocking your head to the side. "I just had to drop off some papers. Couldn't spend my day off away from you two." You hummed, eyes quickly finding Jack on the field, his short legs carrying him across the floor. Aaron let go of your hand, placing his on your thigh, and you turned towards him to press a kiss on his cheek before averting your gaze again.
Curiously scanning the parents around the field, one thing caught your eye. The inappropriate father was now joined by his child's mother, clad in a matching sports set and bearing a giant diamond on her ring finger. You wonder if she saw your interaction or if she, perhaps, was busying herself with another woman's husband.
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s0urw00lf · 5 months ago
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Accidents happen
Pairing: Neteyam x reader
Summary: You and Neteyam find solace in each other. Maybe a little too much…
Requested by anon
AN: girl i’m so sorry it took me so long to get this out, i was procrastinating. But i hope you like it and maybe ill do a part two???
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The night was quiet, and the waves of the ocean were soothing the nerves going haywire in your stomach. As the next in line of tsahik your connection with eywa was deep, even more so than your mothers for a reason unknown to you. You couldn’t help but worry something terrible was coming but you had no idea whatsoever what it was, that’s why you sat at the edge of the village on a rock, dangling your feet into the water. The pit in your stomach was heavy with bad feelings that were unknown to you. The waves softly crashing into the rock was working wonders calming your nerves, this was the most relaxed you’d been in weeks. You were relaxed but still alert, which is why your ears perked up when you heard footsteps coming from behind you.
You discreetly grabbed your knife out of its sheath attached to your hip, and when the footsteps got close enough you whipped around holding your knife menacingly. At the sight of the familiar boy holding up his hands in surrender after letting a ‘woah’ slip out, you lowered your knife. “I apologize I did not mean to scare you” he apologized, after lowering his hands. You let out a sigh in relief, “it is okay, guess i wasn't expecting anyone to be awake at this time” you said, returning back to your seated position on the rock facing the sea. He nodded in understanding, both that you saw though nor did you really care. “May I join you?” He asked, making you turn your head to him. You pondered for a second before nodding and turning your focus back on the horizon.
You two sat in silence before he spoke “what are you doing awake anyway?”. You looked over to him thinking of an answer “I am not sure if i'm honest. Just needed some peace away from the hustle of the clan i guess” you said not really wanting to go into detail. “What about you forest boy” you teased lightly. He smiled at the nickname you and your sister had graced him and his brother with. “It reminds me of home,” he said, gesturing to the line of trees about ten feet away. You nodded, “do you miss it?” You asked in curiosity. “More than anything” he immediately answered. Your expression softened, “I can not imagine it, being torn away from everything I’ve grown to know and having to start all over, that must be so hard” you said in thought, the thought hurts just thinking about it. “I can not show how badly I miss home, I must be the example for my siblings. I have to like it here so they do” he frowned, dropping his head .“My parents would not let me know peace until I achieved every task with ease” you frowned at the thought.
Neteyam tilted his head in wonder “your parents are hard on you?” He asked. You almost let out a laugh “Of course, I am the oldest, I set the example I hold the future of the clan in my hands. And do not even get me started on when my brother disobeys its always my job to watch over him and take the fall though I don’t have to worry about it much with Tsireya.” You said, feeling irritation arise. Turns out Neteyam had the same problem with his father. “I did not know, I have the same issue with my parents and skxawng brother. It is so hard sometimes, being the perfect son. Making sure I’m doing everything right while keeping an eye out for my siblings and not disappointing my parents” he vented.
“Growing up I always looked out to my parents and how amazing they were. They are strong and great leaders and I wanted to be that too, but now looking back I don’t feel as if I am. My parents do not look at me like they do my siblings; like I’m their child. Instead it is as if I am a soldier. I must do everything right, pass every test and look graceful while doing it so I don’t scare off possible mates. And do not mistake me I love my siblings with everything in me but it is so hard, I just wish to freeze time sometimes so I can breathe.” You ranted, somehow finding out that you were not alone in this life made you feel better. Neteyam is not judging you for letting your guard down and wanting to be normal. He’s listening and understanding and that is what you needed at this point in time. You both sat in silence after your admission. He reached over and grabbed your hand and you looked down an your hands and entertained your fingers with his. “I- I have this feeling in my stomach, a bad feeling like something bad is coming.” You let it slip fiddling with his fingers. You didn’t know why he mad you fee so comfortable but you couldn’t complain. Your whole life you’d had up this strong front but he was able to tear it down in a matter of seconds. He lifted his other hand to gently grab your face. Your eyes met his and immediately you saw the softness in his eyes, you also saw how beautiful he was. The glowing dots on his face were beautiful at night. You had never really looked at him before but you were confused on how you couldn’t see how attractive he was. He began to lean in, your breath hitched and your heart rate picked up. “Is this okay” he asked, his breathe fanned over your lips. You nodded and connected your lips.
That night things happened. You were not proud of it, in fact the feeling in your stomach worsened. You and neteyam actively avoided each other, you were terrified for your parents to find out, scared that they would desert the sullys and disown you. You’d been a ball of stress walking around the clan, ‘what would they say? We aren’t even mated’ you wondered. A few days later you found out you were with child after your body had begun to reject your food and your heart practically stopped. You tried to find any way to be away from your family when you ate just so your mother wouldn’t connect the dots. Eyes why? Was this what she was warning you about? Was it meant to be this way?
One day when you were sitting on your ilu at the edge of the reef your siblings had shown up much to your surprise. “Sister, you’re avoiding us” tsireya said worried. You frowned getting defensive “im not, im busy completing my tasks” you lied quickly. Aounung gave you a look as if saying ‘really?’ “I am, okay? I have a lot to complete before the ceremony” you said. Tsireya shook her head “are you okay? Whatever it is you can tell us we wont tell. Even if mom and dad are getting suspicious” she said muttering the last part. At that your walls crumbled, tears filled your eyes and cascaded down your face, “they will hate me, i can’t tell them. You cant tell them” you begged tears still falling downy our face. They both nodded profusely. “I- i am with child” you admitted. Both of their faces mirrored horror, Aonung more angry and Tsireya just complete shock. “What were you thinking, you know mom and dad will-” your brother scolded but you cut him off “will do nothing because you wont tell. Right?” You asked. You both stared each other down and eventually he gave up sending you a nod. “Who?” Tsereya asked, you knew she didn’t want to finish the sentence. You hesitated looking down “neteyam”.
”sister tell me you are joking” tsereya said, her face again filled with horror. “Why would i joke? I was stupid and now i'm paying the price. Hiding it from my family, mom and dad would send them away, the cannot suffer for my stupidity. They can be as disappointed in me as they want, not like it's anything new.” You defended. “Does he know?” Your brother questioned. You shook your head “no”. He scoffed “every word that comes out of your mouth makes me question how we are related.” He said. You squinted your eyes at him in irritation. “What hes saying is maybe you should talk to him. Come up with a plan and go from there. He deserves to know. He is just as responsible as you” tsireya interrupted before an argument could break out. You frowned in thought. If he accepts it you wouldn’t be completely alone if your parents decided to rid themselves of you. You nodded, making your way back to shore to find neteyam not sure how you’d break it to him.
— with neteyam —
his family noticed he’d been acting weird. He started getting irritated easily his fuse was short and no one knew why. “Bro whats your problem” lo’ak asked, getting irritated at Neteyam attitude. “Nothing, lo’ak” he replied shortly, dropping the pile of nets he was told to bring home by an elder. He entered his family’s mauri pod noting that his parents were watching him not so discreetly, something they’d been doing since they noticed his odd behavior. “Did you get the nets?” Jake asked, neteyam wanted to yell or throw something or hit someone. “Over there sir” he said pointing to the entrance to the pod. “Kid i told you to drop it off with my ilu” Jake scolded, neteyam walked over to the nets and grabbed them, his ears pinned back and his tail swished impatiently. He tossed the nets on th ilu waiting at the dock. He re-entered the pod “now its with your ilu like you asked” he said irritation lacing his tone. The pod filled with a thick tension.
Everyone held their breath waiting for Jake to do or say something. Jake stood making his way to neteyam grabbing his arm harshly “Hey! What the hell is your problem boy? Huh?” Jake asked, neteyam could feel the anger radiating from his father and lowered his head in shame. He wanted to cry, but he couldn’t. Not in front of his siblings. Not in front of his father. He had to keep it together. But he couldn’t keep the tears from pooling in his eyes. He lifted his head to meet his fathers eyes. “No problem sir” he said.
Jake immediately noticed the tears brimming his eyes and his grip loosened. “May i be excused” neteyam asked, his voice didn’t give away the tears in his eyes, but Jake could see the pleading look in his sons eyes. Jake nodded, in shock having not expected to ever see his son on the verge of tears right in front of him. Neteyam quickly took his leave. Kiri and lo’ak followed quickly after him. Jake turned to neytiri still in shock. She looked at him with confusion, she couldn’t see neteyam ace over Jake’s shoulder. “He was on the verge of crying” Jake told her. Her eyebrows raised and the same question filled both of their heads ‘what the hell happened’
Lo’ak and kiri easily found Neteyam sitting with his hands in his head. “What happened” Lo’ak questioned, seriously this time. “And if you say nothing i will throw a rock at your head” kiri kinda but not really joked. Neteyam shook his head his hair swaying with the rhythm of his head. “I messed up” Neteyam admitted. Lo’ak folded his arms “what could you have done that bad” he asked. Neteyam looked up to his sibling who were standing right in front of him. “Y/n an di spent the night together” he said. The silence that followed after Neteyams confession was deafening. Lo’ak and kiri looked at each other with wide eyes, confirming that they both heard right. ‘Did you mate with her?” Lo’ak asked. Neteyam shook his head, the lump in his throat prevented him from speaking. He was terrified, if his parents find out he was sure his dad would skin him and his mom would do nothing to stop it, but eywa help him if your parents find out. His family was at risk of being kicked out all because of him and that guilt ate him alive. “Have you checked on her?” Kiri asked, sitting down beside him. “No, I do not think I can” he said. Kiri sighed disappointed. “You idiot brother of mine, she could be going through worse than you. Man up and go talk to her. We’ll take care of mom and dad for now.” Kiri said. “Yeah go, don't be a wuss” lo’ak joked patting Neteyam’s shoulder. He felt lighter knowing he had his siblings support, so he nodded, standing up and walking away. “He is so dead” Kiri said. “This puts me in the clear for the next 10 years” lo’ak smiled.
— back with you —
you found neteyam way quicker than you would’ve liked, his dark blue skin stuck out in the crowd of teal blue metkayina. You slowly approached him, his back was turned toward you and he looked as if he was looking for something. Or someone. “Neteyam” you called. You saw his tail still and body go rigid. He turned around towards you with wide eyes. “Y/n” he said. You both stared at each other, behind him you saw his siblings peeking from behind a rock. “You told them?” You asked softly. He nodded, “just kiri and lo’ak” he said. You nodded “i think we should talk” you said. Neteyams heart dropped. He was afraid of the possibilities. He nodded, “would you like to go somewhere more private?” he asked. You nodded and the two of you began to walk towards the place you’d met that night.
Once you were there and settled, your heart was racing “i- i do not know what to-“ you cut yourself off with a sob. The fear of the unknown was beginning to get to you. Neteyam grabbed your hands and shh’ed you “Mawey, breathe” he said. You nodded, trying to catch your breath. after a minut or so, your mind was a little clearer, thought you still didn’t know how to break it to him. “I’m with child” you said, it slipped out before you could stop yourself. This time it was neteyam who froze. He hadn’t even thought about this possibility. A child. His world felt as if he stopped spinning. “Neteyam we are only 16 years of age, how can we- we’re not even mated” your mind raced faster than you could talk. You wondered how you had known longer than him and was still the most worried between the two of you, he looked deeply in thought. “Maybe we could still go through with it but in a traditional way” he spoke.
you looked at him in wonder, urging him to continue. ‘We could do the ceremony, I will court you and we will mate before you start to show. When the baby comes it will be ‘early’ but healthy” he explained. You were shocked at how quickly he was able to come up with an efficient plan on such short notice. “That could work, but are you sure you wan-“ “i want nothing more, i mean i never planned on a child this early but we could make it work” he said with full sincerity. You nodded “okay, we can do it, but we should probably speed the process” you said. He agreed, pulling you in for a hug, you relaxed in his arms for the first time in a week. You felt like you could breathe again. Everything was gonna be okay, not to mention your mother secretly liked neteyam, so if he was trying to court you she'd accept it. And your father would just want you to pick someone who could protect you and nobody was more trained for that than neteyam. “We’ll be okay” you said leaning your head into his chest. He answered with a “yes”
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ivysprophecy · 1 month ago
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please please please
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word count; 1644
summary; turning off your phone and shutting out the world isnt the best way to handle your problems but its what you do. and jjs had enough of it.
warnings; i dont think there is any? mentions of anxiety attacks? tagging @murdockcastleslut @kimoralov3 @arkofblake
masterlist
prev. | next
divider by @bernardsbendystraws
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"well hey there stranger"
i turn from my book to look behind me, seeing the boy id been actively avoiding for the past two days. carrying his surf board.
i shouldve remembered he'd come here to surf. i just wouldn't have guessed this early in the morning.
"hey jayj."
"oh thats all i get? 'hey'? no 'i miss you so much'?" he sets his board in the sand taking a seat next to me on my blanket.
guess im not finishing my book today. "oh my god jj! youre here! ive been dyingggg to talk to you! i cant believe youre really in here in the flesh! there. better?"
"oh dont be like that- cmon mama whatd i do?" i feel bad with the genuine concern on his face.
okay was ghosting him out of nowhere awful of me? probably. i just didnt know what else to do.
after that night at the bonfire i realized that with my feelings for him growing it wasnt a good idea for us to continue our casual... something. it played with both our emotions. it isnt fair to either of us.
especially after his 'i love you'. that really did it in for me.
"you didnt do anything jj. trust. i just... ive been in a funk. needed some me time thats all."
"well... do you still need your 'me time'?" he looked so hopeful. how could i say yes? where jj maybank is concerned ill easily fold every time. "cause you havent answered my texts so i couldn't ask you to surf with me this morning."
"... i dont have my board. but i suppose i can hang out with you for a little while."
"im honored," he smiles laying back on his elbows, "but really. are you good? i like to think i know you pretty well and this whole MIA thing was not normal."
turning to face him more, i sigh, what the fuck am i supposed to say? 'yea im just so in love with you i cant be around you' yea that would go over really well.
"i dont know. just gotta lot of stuff goin on. you dont have to worry though. im good."
"well do ya wanna talk about it?"
"trust me jay you dont wanna hear about my problems. theyre trivial at best."
"what are friends for if not for listening?" he nudges me with his shoulder urging me to talk. i really dont think i can do this. i was not prepared.
"youre not a very good listener," i point out, to which he immediately takes faux offense. jaw dropped and everything.
"oh thats just not true! i can listen!"
i run a hand through my tangled hair in frustration. this cannot be how i tell him. it just cant. i came here to get away from thinking about this and now hes right here in front of me acting so unserious while im spiraling.
"jj i really appreciate how eager you are to help me but its really not necessary. i didnt really prepare myself and its just too much-"
"prepare yourself? mama what the fuck are you talking about? does this have to do with that night after the bonfire? i mean obviously it does who am i kidding you havent talked to me since then. did i do something wrong? was- was it bad?" he leans in closer, lowering his voice thats laced with worry and guilt.
oh my god that is the absolute last thing i expected him to say. shit i really fucked this up. and honestly just not true.
"what? no! no jj you didnt do anything wrong and it was perfect. promise," i try to reassure him but i know deep down hes gonna over think this whole thing if i dont tell him straight up
i may love him but i never said he was the brightest in the bunch.
"okay so whats the problem?"
"the problem is that it was perfect," i cant help but let out a sigh before hiding my face in my hands as the words leave my mouth.
god my heart is racing, im not ready for this conversation. maybe if i pass out i wont have to. yea if he has to call an ambulance then we can avoid this all together. but an ambulance is also like five grand so...
shit.
"... youre mad at me because you had a good time?" his face contorted in a weird fixture of confusion.
"no! no- god youre so dense sometimes!"
"mama i dont have a fucking clue what youre saying! how does that make me stupid??"
i hide my face in my hands again trying to compose myself because what the fuck kind of confession is this?
"jj im avoiding you because ive been developing feelings for you and i cannot in good conscience keep being so casual with you and sleeping with you knowing this and i know that you do not want anything serious so i figured id just make it easier for the both of us and just take myself out of the situation entirely so that nothing bad happens and i cannot stop fucking talking so please for the love of god say something or do something because i feel like my heart is about to beat out of my chest and-"
oh my god im getting my book moment. he just kissed me to make me stop talking!!! oh my god hes kissing me.
is this where i kiss him back?
of course i kiss him back!! what the fuck!!? and oh my lord does it feel nice, so so so nice.
the way his tongue presses against mine, the way he cups my jaw and pulls me close to him. it was slow and confident and loving and everything he knows i like. his hands find my hips like muscle memory, pulling our bodies together, eventually having me on his lap. where he takes my hands and places them on his chest so i can feel his chest rise and fall with deep breaths.
“… mama you need to learn to breathe.”
“that’s not funny right now jj. im actively having an anxiety attack, horrible thing to say really."
"what're you so anxious about? i think we're havin' a pretty calm conversation, dont you?"
"i mean yea- but thats not-" he interrupts me while shaking his head with a shrug.
"listen, i get why youre a little nervous to say that, all things considered. but i thought it was pretty obvious i was into you, i just didnt wanna push you because you made your boundaries clear so i just took what i could get."
my eyes bug out of my head in shock. am i the dense one? i mean yea hes a really good kisser and i can feel he cares deeply about me when we do stuff and makes me feel safe and supported but that doesnt mean-
yea im stupid. he all but outright said it. actually he has. thats what started this panic.
"... okay yea- maybe. but you agreed they were a good idea so i figured that meant you wanted them there too. and i dont know- it just kind of got overwhelming and i didnt wanna be one of those girls who expects something huge after sex so... you know what i mean? and truthfully youre not what i expected for me."
"what does that mean?" his face showed a little offense.
"i just mean- ya know. for one i didnt expect to love my best friend. and then on top of that i didnt think id love a guy who was a treasure hunting, or- adrenaline junkie i should say."
he leans back putting some space between us, "is that supposed to be a bad thing?
"no! no jay im not saying this right- i-... youre a fighter and youre adventurous- a lot of things im not. if that makes sense. all im sayin is a few years ago i wouldnt have expected to be here. but i like it here. love it here even," i smile at him teasingly trying to ease his worries. the last thing i need is to say the wrong thing right now.
"so what youre saying is that you love me?"
"youre such an idiot."
'but do ya? because i think you do mama."
i roll my eyes chuckling, "yea. yea i do maybank," i press a small kiss to his cheek leaning back into him.
"does this mean youll let me make you a maybank mama?" his eyebrow was quirked up as he teases his question.
"lets not get ahead of ourselves. how about we take this slow?"
he looks down at my button up shirt i was wearing over my bikini to shield me from the ocean breeze, and i could tell he was debating taking it off of me. giving me that same look he always does.
"slow? mama i dont think we're gonna be too good at that."
"all 'm sayin is we dont have to jump the gun, we both admitted it, doesnt mean we gotta change the way we act or announce it or nothing. we can just enjoy this ourselves ya know?"
"you embarrassed of me mama?"
"not at all baby, just want you all to myself. is that too much to ask for?"
he shakes his head leaning up against me, our faces inches apart, "nah i dont think so. i like the sound of that."
i meet him the rest of the way pressing his lips to mine, smiling into it. pulling him as close as humanly possible. i need him under mind skin, in my blood, you know?
"i do too, so we agree? we'll keep this between us for now?"
"whatever you want mama. yes maam."
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avelera · 1 month ago
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Some Viktor (Arcane) Musings:
The thing is, I think Viktor must have told Jayce about his illness at some point in S1 before Viktor collapsed and ended up in the hospital
The reason being that it's literally impossible to ignore how much Viktor's health deteriorates in the 6-7 years between 1.03 and 1.04. There's no way he could not give Jayce some clue of what's going on with him.
But, for my own purpose and that of the fics I write, my thought was that Viktor maybe... downplayed the severity.
For example, my take is that if you have this fissure illness, you generally don't live past 30 in the undercity and Viktor knows this. He must have had some sense of a timeline, because his headlong rush to secure a legacy indicates the he knew he probably wasn't going to die of old age.
This, I think, he would be upfront with Jayce about. That they have to advance Hextech to the point where it's making breakthroughs in disciplines other than weightlessness and teleportation if Viktor has any chance of living a long life. Jayce would be on board with this fully, I think. Magic can do anything so if they're fast, and dedicated, chances are they can find something that will also improve biology too.
But, I think Viktor lied or played down how short of a time he actually had. Like, he told Jayce he probably wouldn't die of old age without Hextech intervention, and Jayce took that and like any sheltered, naive Piltie from a good family he thought, "This is awful, Viktor might never see 80!" Thinking that Viktor might, without intervention, only live to see, like... 60.
I also headcanon that once you start coughing up blood, it's a bit like TB, you don't have much time after that. So in 1.02/1.03, Viktor is driven to make a legacy for himself knowing he doesn't have a lot of time, but he might even still be fooling himself to think he's got more time than he does because of his move to Piltover. He has cleaner air here, better nutrition, better sun exposure, an easier life, etc. If the life expectancy in the underground for this disease is 25-30 or less, why should he maybe see 40 in Piltover?
But then... tragedy strikes. He starts coughing blood sometime during the time skip. His health rapidly deteriorates, and he doesn't tell Jayce that this means he's probably only got a few months to a few years left. He basically allows Jayce to keep living with the illusion that Viktor has limited time, because that would be unavoidable to realize just by looking at him, but still maybe decades remaining.
What compounds the problem here is that Viktor also tends to obfuscate his need for rapid intervention by posing them as the needs of the undercity which goes straight over Jayce's head. He tells Jayce they need to focus on new uses for Hextech to help people in the undercity now, it can't wait, they're running out of time, and goddammit Viktor, stop hiding your needs behind altruism, just be selfish, just tell Jayce that you're not talking about the undercity, you're talking about yourself and he would have dropped everything to help you!
Because this is Viktor's biggest flaw: he lies to himself and he lies to Jayce about why he's pursuing science at such a breakneck pace, and I don't even think he knows he's doing it. He's become so accustomed to the idea that he's not allowed to be selfish, not allowed to pose his own desperate desire to live as a priority, that he keeps fucking couching it in the needs of others so Jayce has no way to know just how desperate Viktor really is because Viktor doesn't admit it even to himself.
And this becomes a bigger problem writ large when Viktor creates his cult to "cure" other people because he can't fucking function if he's not posing his self-serving desires as things that also help the group. Babygirl, what is wrong with you?
So now instead of just perfecting himself in very scientifically troubling ways, he feels the need to spread around the cure that he made for himself to others to justify it, even if it doesn't fit them and in fact is horrifying to give the same solution to a bunch of people and fix things they never asked to be fixed.
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alanaaii · 1 year ago
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You play too much. ☆
req ; Here is an idea I had so what it Connie and y/n was play fighting and Connie accidentally slapped her so she gets quiet and gives him the silent treatment
sorry it took me so long! ill make this quick n cute.
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You and connie were chilling on the couch watching some of your real life crime documentaries. Connie was laying on your stomach as you rubbed his head. A gasp come from your lips as you pay attention to the tv. Connie thought it would be a clever idea to start squishing your stomach. “con stop” you giggled as you pushed his hand away. He kept squishing until you plucked his hand. “why mama? i jus wanna feel on you”
You give him the “ifyoudontgetyohandsoffofme” look. He move his hand to your thigh before squeezing it. “con stop before i-“ “before you what?” You try to get up but before you know it connie wrapped his arms around you and picked you up. “stop before you drop meee”. You whine while hitting on his shoulders to let you down . After a minutes before he complies. He drops you and slaps your ass, leaving a burning feeling. “you play too mf’n much” as you softly hit him on the chest, he accidentally slaps you. Not hard enough to the point it hurt, but still enough to leave you shocked.
You stood there as it took everything in you not to put a bullet in his head. “ma i’m sorry i-“You turn around and silently make your way to your shared bedroom. He followed you as he tried to grab your hand. “i didn’t mean to do that”. Once you got to the bedroom you tried to shut the door but connie wasn’t having none of that. “y/n, i’m sorry i thought we was playing” you just looked at him with a blank expression as you gave up on closing the door.
You plop onto the bed and put your airpods in, turning the volume on high to block out connie’s apologies. Connie realized you weren’t listening and picked up his phone and began to spam call you, interrupting your tiktok scrolling. Before you tried to block him, he came closer to the bed and looked down at you.
“can you listen to me?” you took a airpod out and shook your head. He sat next to you as he looked into your eyesi’m sorry ma, you know i would never try to hurt yo pretty ass” He cupped the cheek he slapped and rubbed it with his thumb. “i told you, you play too damn much”
Both of you smiled as you pulled him into a hug. “now put sumn on, we about to get something to eat”
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temiizpalace · 4 months ago
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hiiii!! omg this is exciting ^^ can I request prompt 4 for Azul and Jamil?? Jamil normally offers Yuu their hoodies, then for some reason Azul started to let Yuu borrow the coat he wears from his Octavinelle Uniform. But in the end, Yuu ends up with Jamil, he told Yuu that now they're in a relationship, they're probably going to own almost all his hoodies now doenksnwksnwksjekd head empty, just this request.
Have a great day!!!
☆┊TAKE MY JACKET, I INSIST. (🐍 vs. 🐙)
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SUMMARY: COLD CHILLS RAN DOWN YOUR SPINE AS YOUR TEMPERATURE BEGINS TO DROP. HE OFFERS HIS JACKET LIKE A GENTLEMEN, BUT A CERTAIN SOMEONE HAD THE SAME IDEA.
CHARACTERS: jamil viper vs. azul ashengrotto
EVENT MASTERLIST
WARNINGS: determined end couple, jealousy, small azul angst near end?
NOTES: i knew id see this duo at least once!! tysm for your request!
reader is g/n, reader is yuu
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˚∘☆∘˚
jamil felt sick.
not literally, thankfully, but horrible enough to feel like he had just gotten a disease. is this happening? seriously? you, in an octavinelle coat. more specifically, azul’s coat. disgusting. he can’t believe his very eyes. why?! and just as he was about to ask if you needed to wear his sweater.
as a very very platonic exchange between two very good friends, you have been wearing jamil’s sweaters during the colder seasons. not like he cares or anything. (he does, he’s literally the one to offer it) however, seeing you in someone else’s clothes? and azul’s nonetheless? do you hate him??? as much as he wanted to run over to you, toss the coat off the window and immediately give you his own sweater to wear instead, jamil would rather die than make such a scene.
he can think of a few.. others.. that would do something so rash, but not him. no, no. he’s seen countless things he never liked to see before! surely this is the same, right?
“jamil! good morning!” you smile, rushing over to him with an enthusiastic wave. “[MC], morning.” he politely greets you in return, eyeing the coat for a second before looking at your eyes. “like my coat? pretty nice, don’tcha think? azul’s letting me borrow it.” you model the coat for him, allowing him to look at every single little detail.
“it’s..” absolutely atrocious. jamil hesitates, biting back any and all comments or remarks he could come up with on the top of his head. he doesn’t wish to insult you! never. the coat itself on the other hand, well.. “..something.” he narrows his eyes, knuckles forming in his hands til they turned pale. “thank you for your sincere input.” you reply sarcastically, already being able to sift through his lie.
“why’re you wearing it?” he asks, crossing his arms and raising a brow. answers. he wants answers. there’s no reason you should be going to azul for anything, so how come? “funny story actually! you see—” “jamil? [MC]?” you both turn your heads to see the refined businessman already on his way towards your direction, jamil unable to hide his obvious annoyance.
“oh, azul! morning.” you wave, unaware to your poor friends furrowed brow. “why, good morning prefect! i see you’re satisfied with the coat?” azul smiles, picking off the lint that was left on your collar. he looks to jamil, taking note of his peeved expression.
“hello, jamil. hanging out with the prefect again, i take it? you know, how about borrowing an octavinelle coat to match with our dear [MC] here? im positive it will look just as good on you as it does on them! our coats are accustomed to keep their subjects nice and warm for the winter seasons.” azul chimes, pulling out a neatly kept contract from his pockets.
“not on your life.” jamil states bluntly, crossing his arms with a pout. “they really do keep you warm though!” you add, much to azul’s delight. “see? i have no ill intentions in the slightest.” the octomer grins, his smile obviously not reaching his eyes. “prefect, i will see you at lunch. we can meet by our usual spot.” jamil sighs, looking at you and now just ignoring his classmate. “oh, okay! see you later then, jamil.”
classes droned on like they usually did. jamil wrote his notes with a focused expression, the thoughts in his head being a complete contrast. small doodles were drawn on the corners of the page, the pencil lead growing duller and duller with each passing minute. stupid octopus bastard.. he sighs, turning to azul wearing a more-than-pleased smile. oh how he wanted to rip that smug grin on his face off and ship him away to a place far, far away from here.
passing period was also no better. azul beat him to the punch, walking you to class like a gentlemen. jamil didn’t fail to notice the boys ears turning red as you laughed, his body language shifting from refined to embarrassed. he fought the urge to bite his nails in anger, leaving that old habit behind him many years ago. a spine chilling aura startles students around him as he walked, his face screaming neutral but his mood nothing but foul.
it’s that damn coat. that damn coat is what’s slowly drifting you away from him, and he cannot allow that. he’ll settle this. once and for all.
jamil awaited your arrival patiently by the tree. his foot tapping aggressively on the concrete as your presence seemed to delay. “sorry im late!” you shout, rushing over with a huff. no. no. no. no. no. no. this was a nightmare. not only were you wearing the coat, but the fedora, scarf, and just the entire octavinelle dorm uniform. “wh-what are you wearing..?” jamil stammers, observing your outfit with pure horror in his eyes.
“agh, azul made me wear it.” you sigh, obviously growing a little too warm in these clothes. it didn’t even snow yet! “this is too much..” he mumbles, removing your hat. slowly, he pulled off each overbearing accessory. he unwrapped the scarf, carefully removed your gloves, and eventually, the coat. “ah, i can take the coat—”
jamil removes his blazer, followed by his sweater. you’d be a liar if you told yourself you weren’t a little bit. seeing jamil in the normal nrc uniform was truly a privilege to say the least. he pulls the sweater over your head and smiles contently. “there. much better.” you hesitate for a moment, feeling your cheeks warm up at his gesture. typically you would put the sweater on yourself, but having someone do it for you? it was different somehow.
“if you’re ever feeling cold, just ask me.” he mumbles, putting his blazer back on while folding the octavinelle clothes neatly. “wow.. sounds like such a romantic gesture.” you joke, nudging his elbow. “could be.” he replies, his tone not holding any of the joking yours previously had. “what..?”
seize every opportunity. “i.. i wouldnt mind if it was.” he mutters, unable to meet your eyes. “is this a confession?” you ask, stepping closer to jamil. he swallows harshly, feeling like his heart was about to jump out of his chest. “i suppose.” suddenly he misses his hoodie. the blush on his cheeks couldn’t help but form, sweat dripping from his brow at the fear of rejection.
“jamil..” you grab his hand, placing it over your heart with a small smile. “if this is a confession, then i like you too.” you wrap him into an embrace, feeling his heart against your own. it beat rapidly, his palms sweaty before he hesitantly reciprocated your hug.
silence fell between you two for a brief moment, but one of comfort rather than awkwardness. “so.. why were you wearing an octavinelle uniform?” jamil asks, feeling the need to soothe the nagging thought in his head. “oh yeah.. that. azul asked me to wear it to promote the lounge. in return, he said id get a few food vouchers and i get to keep the coat.” you shrug, pulling out the small tickets from the octavinelle coat.
“i see..” jamil nods, still not understanding the rest of the accessories. “well, my hoodies are now your hoodies. look no further than yours truly for warmth in the winter.” he smiles, fixing the collar of the sweater. you laugh at his comment, pushing his bangs out of his face.
azul watched your exchange from afar, feeling his smile falter slightly. “oya? azul, is something the matter?” jade asked calmly, staring at his frowning companion. “..it’s nothing. what were you saying about that seasonal dish?” azul smiles, walking and talking with his vice housewarden for the future of mostro lounge.
in reality, his heart ached. even after all his efforts, he came in last. he couldn’t win your love in time. azul can’t help but want to climb into his octopot and weep. he sounds childish, but how else would you deal with a broken heart? maybe someday, you’ll find your love for him. someday, you’ll be part of his world. someday, he won’t feel so poor and unfortunate. but not today.
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A/N: im sorry this was a little late something came up 😭
date published: 8/28/24
© temiizpalace — do not copy, steal, or put my work into ai. thank you!
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clockwayswrites · 1 year ago
Text
City Pigeons - Part 10
WC: 817, Masterpost
Jason sighed as the tablet in his hands flashed with alerts. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“How did the meeting with Black Bat go?” Bruce asked instead of responding, because of course he did.
“You know it went fine,” Jason said, trying not to snap. “Besides, everyone likes her, there was a good chance it was always going to go fine.”
“We both know trauma isn’t always that easy,” Bruce said, his tone carefully modulated to be gentle. It rankled Jason, like it always did.
Jason took a breath and let his chin drop to his chest for a moment. Bruce didn’t mean it like that. He knew that now. This was Bruce trying as best as he was able— it wasn’t just another mask. Bruce just had to put effort into emotions that made it seem forced. Jason pushed away his flair of temper; it was harder to do than he’d like after too much worry and too little sleep.
“Ja—”
“I’m fine. It’s just like you said, trauma isn’t always that easy. I’m fine,” Jason said as he waved the concern away. “And names. You know we’re sticking to code names still.”
Bruce tilted his head, observing Jason through the white lenses. (That used to rankle too.)
“You thinking there’s a chance he’ll run.”
Jason sighed. He gave an exaggerated shrug to cover the worry that ran through him at the question. “Not run, exactly. I think he doesn’t believe that he can stay— that it’s even on the table. I think that we’re his last hope and he doesn’t believe in hope anymore.”
Bruce didn’t move. Jason gave him time to think that over.
“That’s why he doesn’t want to see… Wayne,” Bruce said, slowly, like he was feeling the idea out. “He doesn’t expect to get anything from him so it’s better to be healed up first.”
Jason shrugged again.
“Figure so. But also once that meeting happens, whatever happens, then all of this,” Jason motioned to the safe house, “is over as far as he knows. If he puts off the meeting, he puts off the risk of losing the first safety that I think he’s hand in a long, long time.”
Bruce’s shoulders hunched and he almost blended back into the shadows by the window. “If he’s already posed for it to go badly…”
“B, that’s not your fault,” Jason said— had to say. “The kid’s been through hell, maybe by his own family, of course he’s going to expect the worst.”
It was a long moment and then Bruce nodded, just once. “What’s the plan?”
If Jason really had his way, the plan would be to deal with all these ill feelings, but that’s not what anyone in the family was good at, him included. It would be what it would be.
“We’ll have BB over again for a meal tomorrow. I’m sure it will keep going well and she can help be on watch that night. We think it’s best to give that a few days before we introduce O or anyone else new, so you have to keep the rest of the horde reigned in,” Jason said pointedly. Then a though occurred to him. “Where is the little spawn anyways?”
“He’s on the roof across the block.”
“Yeah, is he? Because that was a lot of alerts—”
“Hood!”
Jason didn’t think before he was striding across the room towards Danny’s room. The kid was standing in the door. White hair stark in the low light. Green eyes bright.
Glowing.
Wide with fear.
“Danny?”
“Someone else is here,” Danny said. His voice was almost too quiet to hear, but Jason could half swear he felt it in his very bones. Danny reached out and clung onto the sleeve of Jason’s hoodie. A cold settled into Jason’s bones along with the vibration of the soft words. “Someone touched by death. Can you feel them too? They’re not not like us. They haven’t died. They haven’t died, but they reek of death. Hood, what are they?”
“Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe here, remember?” Jason assured Danny automatically. The words rolled out of his mouth without Jason having to even think about them, which was good, because Jason’s mind was still caught on Danny’s words: They’re not like us. They haven’t died. “Some Bats just stopped by to check on us.”
Was it Bruce? Did all of Gotham’s death cling to his shoulders like his cape?
Was it Damian? Was it the stench of the Pits?
Or did Jason miss something else slipping in with all of the other alarms.
“We’ll go check on Nightwing together, alright? I bet he has a little red and black guest who slipped in,” Jason said. He twisted his hand to hold Danny’s. The cold bit at his skin. He didn’t let go.
He hoped he was right.
He had a hard time believing in hope too.
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AN: A myyyyyyyystery *wiggly fingers*. Gods I'm so tired.
I no longer tag, you can subscribe to the masterpost instead!
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