#i don’t want to be mean. i really don’t. but as Soon as i get overwhelmed that goes flying out the fucking window

[inseobts]

Idk if u do request but can you do Scary reader x One piece men? Law, Shanks, Sabo, Ace, Croc, The monster trio & whoever else you want! Basically the reader is really scary but {{char}} finds their scariness attractive.

Attractive Scariness

a/n: sorry but at some point I got out of ideas lmao

characters: luffy, zoro, sanji, law, ace, shanks, sabo and crocodile

words count: around 0.4k - 0.9k each

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

── .✦ Monkey D. Luffy:

You’re used to fear.

The wide eyes, the shaky hands, the people stumbling over themselves to get away, etc. It’s always the same. Ever since you ate your Devil Fruit, people have called you a monster. Even when you’re not fighting, your presence alone makes people nervous.

So when you land on this island and step into a small village, you already expect the usual reaction.

And you get it.

The streets clear as soon as you walk in. The market stalls empty. Even the shopkeepers pretend not to see you.

You sigh.

“Again?” you mutter “I just want some food…”

You’re about to turn around when someone doesn’t run. A boy in a red vest and a straw hat stands right in front of you, grinning like he doesn’t even notice how scary you are.

No. He notices. He just doesn’t care.

“Whoa!” he exclaims, eyes shining “You’re super strong, huh?”

You blink “What?”

“I can tell!” He nods, completely sure of himself “Strong people have this feeling about them. And you feel really strong!”

You stare at him. That’s… new. No “stay away from me” or “please don’t kill me.” Just pure excitement.

Luffy tilts his head “What’s your power?”

You hesitate. Usually, this is the part where people scream. But he’s looking at you like a kid waiting for a magic trick.

You raise your hand. A shadow swirls around your fingers, shifting like smoke. The air around you grows heavy, dark, unnatural.

Luffy gasps.

“That’s so cool!”

“…Huh?”

“You can control shadows? Or darkness? Or... wait, is it nightmares?” He’s practically bouncing “Can you do giant shadow hands? Or make yourself super big? Or—”

You blink at him “You’re… not scared?”

Luffy grins wider “Why would I be? You’re awesome!”

This has never happened before. Ever. You don’t know what to do.

Then Luffy grabs your wrist “Hey, join my crew!”

Your brain short-circuits “What?”

“I’m Luffy! I’m gonna be King of the Pirates, and I need strong people on my crew. And you’re really strong!”

You open your mouth, then close it. You look at him, at his bright, careless smile, at the way he’s just standing there, holding onto your wrist like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Like you’re just a person.

Not a monster.

“…You’re weird” you say.

Luffy laughs “People tell me that a lot.”

You stare at him for a long moment. Then, for the first time in forever, you smile.

“…Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’ll join you.”

Luffy cheers, throwing his fists in the air “Yes! This is gonna be awesome!”

You have no idea what you’ve just signed up for. But for once, you don’t feel like a nightmare.

You just feel like you.

Years have passed since you met Luffy. Since he grabbed your wrist, called you strong, and changed your life without even trying.

Back then, you weren’t sure what you were getting into. Now, you know.

Being with Luffy means chaos. It means waking up to find him hanging upside down from the ship’s mast, laughing like it’s normal. It means fighting beside him, watching him charge straight at danger without fear—because he trusts you to have his back.

It means love.

A love that is loud and wild, but also simple. Easy. Because Luffy has never been afraid of you. Not then, not now.

Right now, you’re on an island, sitting in the shade while the crew runs around. The villagers are keeping their distance, just like always. Even after all these years, people still fear you.

But it doesn’t matter anymore.

Because across the field, Luffy is waving at you, smiling so wide it makes your chest feel warm. He doesn’t care that people avoid you. He doesn’t care that you’re “scary”, to him, you’re just you.

He runs over, plopping down next to you with a grin “Whatcha doin’?”

You raise an eyebrow “Sitting.”

Luffy gasps dramatically “No way. That’s crazy.”

You snort, shoving his shoulder. He just laughs, leaning against you without a care in the world.

For a while, you sit there together. The sun is warm, the breeze is nice, and Luffy is… Luffy. He hums a little song under his breath, playing with your fingers like he’s fascinated by them.

Then, he says “You know, you’re kinda scary.”

You pause “Oh?”

He nods “Yeah. Like, super scary. When you fight, people freak out. Even Zoro said you’re the last person he’d wanna fight seriously.”

You wait for the usual words to follow. Monster. Freak. Too much.

But instead, Luffy grins and squeezes your hand.

“I love it.”

Your heart stops for a second.

Luffy keeps talking, like he hasn’t just turned your entire world upside down “It’s awesome! You’re so strong, and you do that cool shadowy thing, and when you get serious, even the bad guys look like they’re gonna cry.” He laughs, eyes shining “It’s really cool.”

You don’t answer right away. Because what is there to say?

For so long, your power was a curse. Something that made you different. Something that made you alone.

But here, with Luffy, it’s just another part of you.

“…You’re an idiot” you mumble, looking away.

Luffy laughs “Yeah, but you love me.”

You roll your eyes “Unfortunately.”

He gasps “What?!”

You shove his face away, and he just laughs harder, wrapping his arms around you like an octopus. He clings to you, laughing and warm, and you sigh, pretending to be annoyed.

But the truth is, you wouldn’t trade this for anything.

Because you are strong. And scary. And Luffy loves it.

And that is more than enough.

── .✦ Roronoa Zoro:

Zoro knows strength when he sees it.

He can sense it in the way people move, in the way they breathe. Some fighters hesitate, some carry doubt, but you don’t.

From the moment he meets you, he can tell. You don’t just fight. You hunt. And for some reason, he can’t take his eyes off you.

It starts on an island known for its warriors. The crew stops to rest, but Zoro wants a challenge. A real fight. So when he hears rumors of a swordsfighter so deadly that even bounty hunters avoid them, he doesn’t hesitate.

But when he finds you, it’s not what he expects.

You’re not some old master or a towering brute. You’re just… you. Sitting under a tree, sharpening your blade like you have all the time in the world.

Zoro stops a few feet away, arms crossed “You’re the one they’re all scared of?”

You glance up. Your eyes are sharp, your aura heavy, and for a second, it’s like the temperature drops.

Zoro grins. Oh, yeah. This is gonna be good.

You sigh, standing up “You here to fight me too?”

He smirks “Yeah. Unless you’re scared.”

Something flickers in your gaze, something dark and dangerous. Then you smile, slow and sharp “You’ll regret that.”

And then you move.

It happens fast. One second, you’re standing still. The next, your own blade is inches from his neck. Zoro barely blocks in time, his instincts the only thing keeping his head attached.

His blood rushes.

You don’t fight like normal swordsfighters. Your movements are smooth, calculated, but there’s something more. Something predatory.

Zoro grins “Not bad.”

You tilt your head “Not bad?”

And then you attack for real.

The clash of steel echoes through the trees. Zoro meets each strike, but he can feel the difference in the way you fight. You don’t waste movement. You don’t test him. You go straight for the kill.

Most people would find that terrifying.

Zoro finds it hot as hell.

His smirk widens “You don’t hold back, huh?”

You don’t answer, but there’s something in your eyes... curiosity, maybe. Like you’re testing him.

Good. He likes a challenge.

The fight goes on, fast and brutal, but in the end, neither of you go all out. It’s just a taste, a promise of something more. When you finally lower your blade, Zoro does the same.

You study him for a moment, then nod “You’re not bad either.”

Zoro huffs a laugh “High praise.”

You sheath your sword and turn away “I’m going back to town. You coming or what?”

He watches you go, smirking to himself.

Yeah. He’s definitely interested.

Years Later – Zoro should probably be concerned that his partner is one of the most terrifying people he’s ever met.

But he’s not.

In fact, it just makes him like you more.

Right now, you’re standing on the deck of the Sunny, staring down a group of bounty hunters dumb enough to challenge you. You haven’t even drawn your sword yet, but the way you look at them, sharp, unreadable, deadly, makes them hesitate.

Zoro leans against the railing, watching with amusement. He already knows how this will go.

One of the bounty hunters shifts nervously “Y-you gonna fight or what?”

You tilt your head, smiling faintly “You first.”

There’s a moment of hesitation. Then they charge. Big mistake.

Zoro watches as you dodge effortlessly, your blade a blur. The fight lasts seconds. By the time you sheath your sword, your opponents are on the ground, groaning in pain.

Silence. Then, Luffy cheers from the mast “That was awesome!”

Zoro smirks. Damn right it was.

You turn to him, raising an eyebrow “You just gonna watch?”

He shrugs with a smirk “I was enjoying watching... and didn’t wanna get in your way.”

You walk over, stopping in front of him “You’re getting lazy.”

He scoffs “Oh yeah?”

You lean in, voice low “Yeah. Maybe I should fight you next.”

Zoro feels a familiar rush of excitement. His hand twitches toward his swords “You sure you can keep up?”

You smirk “Try me.”

And just like that, he’s gone.

Lost in you, in the fight, in the thrill of having someone who meets him blow for blow.

You’re terrifying. And beautiful. And stronger than hell.

And he wouldn’t have you any other way.

── .✦ Vinsmoke Sanji:

Sanji has seen all kinds of people. Beautiful women, powerful warriors, even actual monsters. But he’s never met anyone like you.

You meet in a quiet, dimly lit tavern. The crew stops for a meal, and Sanji, always on the lookout for interesting faces, notices you immediately.

You sit in the darkest corner, barely touching your drink. Your posture is relaxed, but there’s something wrong about it, like you could strike at any moment. The air around you feels heavy.

People glance at you and quickly look away. A group of bounty hunters at a nearby table seem tense, whispering among themselves.

Sanji watches as one of them inches toward the door. His hands are shaking.

That’s when he realizes, they’re afraid of you. A lot.

Sanji takes a slow drag of his cigarette. Interesting.

“Hey cook, what are you doing there, standing like an idiot.” Zoro says while they all sit at a table.

He’s about to turn back to his crew and reply to that marimo when the bartender makes a mistake and accidentally spills a drink on your sleeve.

The entire tavern stops breathing.

The bartender goes pale “I—I’m so sorry—”

You say nothing. You don’t even look at him. Just slowly, carefully, you pick up a napkin and wipe your sleeve.

The silence stretches.

Sanji almost laughs at how scared everyone looks. What, do they think you’re gonna kill him for a drink spill?

The bartender swallows “Please, let me—”

“It’s fine” you say.

Your voice is quiet. Smooth. Too calm.

The bartender flinches anyway.

Sanji watches as you set the napkin down, push your drink away, and stand. You turn toward the door, and the crowd parts around you, everyone desperate to get out of your way.

Sanji, curious as hell, does the exact opposite.

He steps into your path, smiling “Leaving so soon?”

You stop and lift your gaze, as everyone there gasps.

Most people can’t meet Sanji’s eyes for long. His confidence, his sharpness, it makes them squirm. But you?

You stare right through him.

For the first time in a long time, Sanji feels his heart skip.

“…Who are you?” he asks.

You tilt your head slightly “Does it matter?”

That voice. Calm. Slow. Like a knife dragging against silk.

Sanji exhales smoke, smirking “I’d like to think so.”

You study him. And for some reason, he feels like he’s the one being hunted.

Then you smile, small, unreadable “See you around… cook.”

And just like that, you’re gone.

Sanji stands there, heart pounding as he thinks, oh, I’m in trouble.

Years Later – Sanji likes to think he doesn’t scare easy. He’s faced warlords, monsters, and the wrath of Nami’s fist.

But nothing terrifies him more than the way you just appear.

“Sanji.”

“GAH—!”

He jumps, nearly dropping the plate he’s holding. You’re suddenly right next to him, quiet as a shadow.

He clutches his chest “How do you do that?!”

You blink “Do what?”

“That!” He gestures at you wildly “I didn’t hear you at all! You just—just materialized!”

You tilt your head, amused “I walked in.”

“No, you haunted in.”

You hum in thought “Maybe you should pay more attention.”

Sanji groans, running a hand through his hair “You’re gonna kill me one day, I swear.”

“Wouldn’t be much fun,” you say, smirking slightly “I’d miss this.”

Sanji pauses. Then, with a slow, dramatic sigh, he pulls you into a hug.

You stiffen at first, but he’s patient. He knows you’re not used to softness.

When you relax, he kisses the top of your head “You’re cruel, y’know that?”

“Am I?”

“You make my heart stop every damn day.”

You smile against his chest “Good.”

── .✦ Trafalgar D. Law:

Law prides himself on being composed. No matter the situation, he never loses control.

But then he meets you, and for the first time in a long time, he feels something close to unease.

It happens on a stormy night. The Heart Pirates dock at a quiet island, and Law sets off alone, drawn by rumors of a dangerous individual hiding in town. Some say you’re a ghost, others call you a demon.

He doesn’t believe in superstition. But he believes in threats.

So when he finds you in the ruins outside of town, standing perfectly still, eyes dark and unreadable, he watches you carefully.

“You’ve been causing trouble” he says, testing your reaction.

You don’t move. Don’t speak. The wind howls through the ruins, but you remain as still as a statue.

Most people shift under his gaze. But you? You don’t even blink.

Law narrows his eyes “Who are you?”

Finally, you tilt your head “You already know, don’t you?”

Your voice is calm. Steady. Wrong.

It reminds him of the quiet before a scalpel slices skin.

Law tightens his grip on Kikoku “What’s your ability?”

You step forward, and the ground cracks beneath your foot. A shadow flickers at the edge of his vision, stretching unnaturally.

“Does it matter?” you ask.

Law doesn’t flinch. But something deep in his chest tightens.

Because he knows that feeling. The quiet hum of danger.

And yet, instead of fear, he feels something else. Intrigue. He's actually really attracted and he can't deny it.

It takes Law a while to notice. To really notice.

Because you’re fearless in battle. You fight like a force of nature, silent and merciless, the kind of presence that makes enemies pray they don’t cross your path. You don’t just win fights, you end them.

And yet, when you’re with the crew, you’re… different.

Law catches it in small moments.

The way you ruffle Bepo’s fur when you think no one’s looking. The way you always make sure Penguin and Shachi get extra food after a long day. The way you quietly fix things around the ship before anyone else notices they’re broken.

And he feels it most with him. Like when you sit beside him in the submarine’s dimly lit halls, comfortable in silence, just existing next to him without expectation. Or when you lean against him after a rough mission, exhaustion making you a little softer, a little less guarded.

Or, most obviously, when you think he’s asleep.

He catches you once, fingers brushing against his hair, barely there, like you’re memorizing the shape of him.

He should say something. Call you out. But he doesn’t.

Because for some reason, the realization that the person who terrifies even seasoned killers, is so unbelievably gentle with him?

It does something to him.

Something dangerous.

Years Later – Being in a relationship with you comes with some complications.

Like right now.

“Sit still, damn it” Law mutters, pressing bandages against your side.

You sigh “It’s just a scratch.”

Law glares at you “It’s a stab wound.”

You shrug “Same thing.”

He clenches his jaw, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him “I swear, you are the worst patient I’ve ever had.”

You smirk “And yet, I’m still your favorite.”

Law groans, but he doesn’t deny it.

Because despite everything, your terrifying strength, your eerie presence, your complete disregard for injuries, he can’t help but be drawn to you.

You are the only person who unsettles him. And somehow, you’ve also become the one person he trusts the most.

He huffs, finishing the bandages “Try not to die.”

You grin, leaning in “Worried about me, doctor?”

“Tch” He flicks your forehead “Shut up.”

And despite himself, he smiles.

The next time you get hurt, Law doesn’t even bother hiding his frustration.

“You’re reckless,” he mutters, tightening the bandage around your arm “One of these days, you’re gonna get yourself killed.”

You watch him, amused “Would you miss me?”

He scowls “Shut up”

You smirk “You would.”

Law clicks his tongue, looking away. He hates how smug you sound. Hates it even more because you’re right.

Instead of answering, he sighs, finishing the bandage. Then, before he can talk himself out of it, he presses a hand against your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek.

“You’re lucky I like you” he mutters.

For the first time, you freeze.

Then, slowly, you smile. And Law knows he’s in so much trouble.

── .✦ Portgas D. Ace:

On a nameless island, a pit stop for pirates and criminals alike, Ace hears the rumors first, stories about a lone warrior, someone so deadly that even bounty hunters won’t go near them.

He thinks it sounds like fun.

So when he walks into a bar and sees everyone stiffening at the mere sight of someone sitting in the corner, he knows he’s found you.

You sit alone, idly spinning a knife between your fingers. Your expression is calm, unreadable, but the tension in the room is thick.

Ace grins, making his way over “Mind if I sit?”

You don’t look up “Do what you want.”

He plops down across from you, resting his chin in his hand “Y’know, people are real scared of you.”

Silence.

Ace watches you carefully. You don’t move like a normal fighter. There’s something off about the way you breathe, the way your presence lingers like a shadow stretching too far.

It should probably freak him out.

Instead, it makes his blood rush.

“So,” he continues, smirking “What’s your deal? You a bounty hunter? Are you here to fight?”

You finally meet his eyes. Your gaze is sharp, calculating, like you’re dissecting him without lifting a finger.

"I was just curious who everyone was talking about, turns out it was you."

“…You’re not scared of me?”

Ace grins wider “Should I be?”

The knife in your hand stops spinning and or a split second, the air feels heavy.

Then, slowly, you smirk “Maybe? You tell me. That's what you came here for, isn't it?”

Ace laughs. Loud, bright, genuine.

And just like that, he decides that he actually finds you very attractive, and isn't letting you go so easily.

Years Later – Ace still remembers the first time he saw you fight.

He has always been the kind of guy who laughs in the face of danger.

He doesn’t hesitate to charge into battle, doesn’t flinch at the thought of death. He’s faced warlords, marines, even entire armies.

But when he saw you fighting? For the first time in his life, he felt like prey, even if you weren't fighting him.

How you moved like a phantom, striking fast, silent, merciless. How your enemies barely had time to scream before they hit the ground.

Everyone calls you terrifying. A monster. A nightmare in a human form.

And yet, right now, curled up against him, grumbling sleepily as he wraps his arms around you Ace can’t help but laugh.

You groan “What? You going crazy now?”

“You,” he teases, resting his chin on top of your head “You’re supposed to be the scariest person alive, but look at you.”

You swat at his chest “Shut up.”

Ace just grins, pulling you closer “Nah. I like reminding you.”

"You're always so annoying..." you say turning to not let him see you blush.

Because despite the way you fight, despite the way you terrify your enemies, Ace has seen what no one else has.

How you tuck into his blankets when you're alone. How you always make sure the crew eats before you do. How you fuss over him when he pretends his injuries don’t hurt.

You act all tough, all sharp edges and killing intent.

But Ace knows the truth.

You’re soft. At least, with him.

And that makes him fall for you even more.

He turn your head so that he can see you and with a smirk he says "Don't worry you're hot both ways, I don't mind your soft side at all"

Then he kiss your forehead and you try to hide again, making him laugh softly.

── .✦ Shanks:

Shanks has seen a lot in his life.

He’s fought warlords, crossed paths with the most dangerous men on the seas, and stared death in the face with a grin.

But when he meets you, he realizes he’s never met someone who could scare him and turn him on at the same time.

It happens in a crowded port town, where pirates and mercenaries walk side by side, tension thick in the air. Shanks and his crew are enjoying a round of drinks when Benn nudges him, nodding toward a shadowed corner of the bar.

“Oi, I found out that one’s got quite the reputation.”

Shanks follows his gaze and sees you.

You sit alone, posture relaxed but too still. There’s something about you... something in the way the people around you refuse to meet your eyes, in the way the bartender serves you with hands that tremble, scared to even do his own job.

The crew isn’t easily shaken, but even they seem wary.

Shanks just grins. Because if there’s one thing he can’t resist, it’s a challenge.

“Think I’ll go say hi.”

Benn sighs “Of course you will. Never doubted it.”

Shanks strolls over, drink in hand, and slides into the seat across from you without asking.

You don’t react. Just lift your gaze and meet his like you’re peering into his soul.

He whistles “You’ve got quite the stare.”

“You’ve got quite the nerve...” you reply smoothly.

Shanks chuckles “I get that a lot, actually.”

Silence stretches between you. He expects you to get annoyed, to tell him to leave, but surprisingly you don’t.

You just watch him. Measuring. Calculating. And damn if it doesn’t send a thrill up his spine.

Finally, you speak “You’re not scared of me.”

Shanks smirks, tipping his drink toward you “Should I be?”

Your eyes glint with something sharp. Dangerous. Interested.

“Maybe not, but who knows.”

Shanks leans forward, grinning “I like my odds.”

"I can see it..."

Years Later - “You’re doing it again” Benn mutters.

Shanks blinks “Doing what?”

Benn nods toward you. You’re across the deck, casually sharpening a blade, the crew giving you a very wide berth.

“You’re staring like a love-struck idiot” Benn sighs.

Shanks laughs “Can you blame me?”

Because despite years of being with you, despite knowing exactly how terrifying you can be, Shanks still finds himself completely captivated whenever you're fighting or not.

He’s seen you end fights with a single strike, watched entire battlefields fall silent at your presence. You are ruthless when necessary, the kind of person who doesn’t waste time with threats, just action.

And yet when you think no one’s watching, he sees the little things.

How you make sure the younger crew members eat first. How you adjust someone’s coat when they’re not paying attention. How, late at night, when exhaustion weighs heavy, you let yourself lean into him.

And Shanks?

He eats it up.

Because out of everyone in the world, you choose to be soft only with him.

Later that night, as you both sit on the deck watching the waves, Shanks stretches, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

You roll your eyes but don’t push him away.

He grins “Y’know, for someone so scary, you’re kinda sweet.”

You turn, raising a brow “Wanna say that again?”

Shanks chuckles “Not if I value my life, and I do.”

You smirk, leaning against him just a little.

And that small, rare gesture is worth more to him than any treasure. He's totally in your hands, can you believe it? Because even he something looks at himself and shake his own head at the thought, but at the end who cares? He's with the most attractive person out there.

── .✦ Sabo:

Sabo isn’t the type to scare easily.

He has fought world nobles, infiltrated enemy territory, and stared death in the face more times than he can count. Fear isn’t something he entertains, it’s something he’s learned to push aside, to control.

But when he meets you?

For the first time in a long while, he actually hesitates.

It happens in a revolution-friendly town, the kind of place where people whisper about rebellion but fear retaliation too much to act. Sabo’s here on business, but what he doesn’t expect is to hear a name spoken in hushed, almost fearful tones.

A name that isn’t a government official or a bounty hunter, but yours.

“Who are they?” he asks a local, intrigued.

The man pales “Someone you don’t want to cross.”

Sabo just smirks “Is that so?”

He should probably be cautious. Should probably listen to the fear in the man’s voice.

But instead, he just wants to meet you more.

You’re exactly as the rumors say. You're cold, calculating and dangerous.

When Sabo finds you, you don’t attack him. You just watch him. Still. Silent. Your presence alone feels heavy, like the weight of an unseen blade resting against his throat, daring him to make a wrong move.

Most people would crack under it.

Sabo just grins “Heard a lot about you.”

You don’t react “Likewise.”

He hums, studying you. Most would be unnerved by your unwavering stare, the cold calculation in your eyes. But Sabo finds it fascinating. Finds you fascinating.

He hums, studying you “And? What’s your verdict?”

Your eyes narrow slightly, assessing him like he’s prey “Too early to tell. I don't judge based on rumors.”

For a moment, the two of you just stand there, a quiet tension settling between you. Sabo knows he should be cautious, he knows he’s facing someone whose strength is being feared even among revolutionaries.

But all he can think is — Damn. They’re kinda hot.

Years Later – It’s funny.

Everyone fears you. The Revolutionary Army sees you as a force of nature, one of their strongest, deadliest members. You’re efficient in battle, merciless when necessary. People whisper about you in the same breath as high-ranking officers, speaking of you like a phantom, something to be respected, but never approached.

But Sabo sees more than just the deadly aura that makes people tread lightly.

He sees the way your eyes gleam with amusement when a mission goes exactly as planned. He sees the way you tilt your head in interest, studying your enemies as if they’re puzzles to be solved before being discarded. He sees the way you move, every motion precise, effortless, a dance with death that you never lose.

And he loves it.

Loves the sharp edges, the lethal grace, the way you make his heart race, not with fear, but with something far more intoxicating.

And yet, he also sees the moments no one else does.

You, sitting beside him late at night, absentmindedly tracing circles against his palm.

You, making sure Koala doesn’t overwork herself, leaving her favorite snacks on her desk without a word.

You, rolling your eyes but still letting Sabo pull you into a hug after a long mission, even though your reputation could probably shatter just from being seen indulging him.

“You know,” he teases one night, tilting his head, “for someone so scary, you’re kind of a softie.”

You give him a flat look “Take that back.”

Sabo laughs, eyes gleaming with challenge “Nope. Never gonna happen.”

You grumble something under your breath but don’t pull away, and he counts that as a win.

Because out of everyone in the world, he knows you’re only ever like this with him.

And as much as he adores every part of you, it’s that razor-sharp danger in your eyes, that power in your every movement, that makes his blood sing.

It’s terrifying. It’s exhilarating.

And damn, does he love you for it.

── .✦ Crocodile:

Crocodile has met aaaall kinds of people.

Cowards who grovel at his feet. Fools who think they can challenge him. Liars who smile while plotting his downfall.

But you? You don’t fit into any category.

Because when he first meets you, standing over the broken bodies of bounty hunters, face calm, eyes cold, he doesn’t see fear. He doesn’t see arrogance.

He sees power.

And for the first time in a long while, he’s interested.

When in Rainbase, long after the fall of Baroque Works, Crocodile has been rebuilding, regaining influence, cutting down anyone foolish enough to think he’s lost his edge.

And then you show up.

A ghost in the desert, they call you. A storm without warning. The kind of person who doesn’t make threats, just leaves bodies in their wake.

Crocodile hears the whispers. He almost ignores them.

Until one of his men ends up dead.

Then it's when he decides it’s time to meet you himself.

He finds you in a back alley, wiping blood from your blade.

You don’t look surprised to see him.

“You’ve been causing many problems” he says, exhaling smoke.

You tilt your head, unconcerned “That depends on who you ask.”

Crocodile’s lips curl into something amused. He’s used to people trembling in his presence. But you? You just stand there, watching him with the same detached intensity one might give a corpse.

It should irritate him.

Instead, it makes his blood thrill.

“I don’t like loose ends,” he says “So tell me, why shouldn’t I kill you?”

For the first time, you smile.

Not kind. Not warm.

Just sharp. Cold. Dangerous.

“You could try, I'm happy if you try.”

The air shifts.

Crocodile’s grip on his cigar tightens. His instincts, honed from years of surviving the worst of the worst, tell him that fighting you would not be easy.

And he likes that.

Years Later – Most people don’t look him in the eye.

Most people don’t speak without permission, don’t challenge his decisions, don’t dare to stand too close.

You do all of that.

And Crocodile lets you.

Because unlike the weaklings who grovel before him, you don’t need protection. You don’t need his power to survive.

You’re strong. Cold. Unshaken by blood or war.

And that makes you the only person truly worth his time.

One night, you’re both on the balcony of his hideout, looking down at the city below.

Crocodile exhales smoke, glancing at you “Most people would rather die than be in my company.”

You don’t even blink “Most people are weak.”

He chuckles, low and dark “That so?”

You finally meet his gaze, and in your eyes, he sees something sharp. Something dangerous.

Something that matches him.

He smirks.

Because finally, after years of dealing with fools, liars, and cowards, he’s found someone who is exactly his kind of monster.

[gojoidyll]

MYDEI GETS ANGRY AT YOU, or when Mydei says something to you that's hurtful when all you're trying to do is show that you care.

angst, mydei x fem!reader, arguments, mydei is kind of mean here, fluff at the end, etc.

“I- I’m sorry Mydei, I really didn’t mean anything wrong by-“

He silenced you by taking a step forward, that lone action striking fear in you as you took a step back, the back your thighs hitting the bed as you lost your balance and ended up falling into the mattress, but you were quick to sit up as Mydei looked down at you.

“You’re always sorry,” he bit, “but you don’t understand at all. You do not understand the choices I have to make or the responsibilities that I bear, and yet you preach about how I need rest or need to take a break when you don’t even know what I do to keep you and everyone else safe,” he snapped at you, barred his teeth, lashed out.

You knew he was stressed, and all you wanted to do was to help…

“I- I’m sorry,” you managed to choke out as tears began to bubble up at the corners of your eyes before cascading down your cheeks. Your lips doing that quivering thing they always do when you start to cry ugly tears.

“Tch, and now you’re crying,” he turned away from you, “if you stopped nagging at me and stopped being so damn clingy and acting like you know what’s best for me then you wouldn’t be crying so damn much.”

He went to leave and you called after him, asking him where he was going.

“Out, your crying is annoying. I need some peace and quiet since you talk so much.”

You bit back anything you had left in your mouth in fear that he would turn around and have even more to share with you. And when you couldn’t hear his footsteps echoing any longer and even a loud slam of a door, you fell back into the bed, your tears coming out faster and harder than before.

When you see him again, you’ll apologize. You didn’t want him to be angry at you for long.

You curled up on his side of the bed, your hands reaching for the covers as you pulled them over you in a mock embrace. You sniffled as you closed your eyes in hopes that sleep could put your mind at ease…

Meanwhile, Mydei was taking his frustration out on multiple training dummys which didn’t go unnoticed by a certain deliverer.

“Don’t you think they had enough,” Phainon mused as he watched Mydei hack yet another head off. The straw made head falling a little away from them due to how much force Mydei had used to cut it off.

“Not now deliverer. I’m not in the mood.”

Phainon watched as Mydei cut off another dummy’s head, his eyes scanning the man carefully – he observed Mydei’s body language, saw how his fist would punch a hole into a dummy’s stomach straight through before moving onto the next. Only one person could get Mydei so worked up.

“Did you fight with your wife again?”

Phainon had to hold back a laugh at the way Mydei so visibly tensed. It was just too easy to read the kremnoan man.

“Well,” Phainon pressed, “you should make up with her soon, fighting with her will do you no good.”

Mydei unclenched his fists before sighing heavily, “I do not believe she wishes to see me.”

“Why is that?”

Mydei glanced to Phainon and weighed his options, but decided to talk to the man anyway as he was … the closest person he could talk to about this. So he recounted the argument with Phainon, and much to his displeasure, by just looking at Phainon’s face he could see just how much he messed up.

“Friend, I am going to say this as kindly as possible… you messed up.”

“Tch,” Mydei crossed his arms over his chest as he looked away, “I already know that.”

Phainon sighed, “how long has it been since the argument?”

“This morning.”

It was already well passed noon.

Phainon shook his head as he gestured to the exit of the training grounds, “you better hurry on back to her.”

Mydei didn’t even need anymore convincing as he rushed home. Many in the streets wondered what at the kremnoan prince in such a rush, but he paid them no mind as he ran home to you.

Bursting through the doors, he went into each room he came across, but you were nowhere in sight. It wasn’t until he reached your shared room did he find you under the covers and curled up on his side of the bed, right where he had left you. Were you waiting for him to come back?

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he went up to you and kneeled beside the bed. He reached for your face as he brushed the stray hair from your face, your eyes were puffy and cheeks dried with tears. Regret was filled inside of him.

“Y/n,” he called for your gently as he ran his fingers along your cheek, the cool metal of his gloves waking you up as you groggily opened your eyes.

“Mydei?”

When you saw his face, your eyes were immediately started to fill with tears again, he was quick to wrap you up in a hug as he pulled you close into his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he tried not to strain those words as he apologized, tried to even make it sound soothing as he held you, “please do not cry. I was a cruel man with what I said to you, all because you were worrying about my well-being.”

You sat up a little and wrapped your arms around his waist, “I’m sorry too,” you said quietly, “I knew you were stressed and tried to help instead of giving you space.”

Mydei shook his head, “I don’t ever want you to give me space. I should have listened to you, please forgive me.”

He knew words alone would not fix what he had said and done. He knew that he scared you today, he could see it in your eyes earlier that morning when you were trying to back away from him. You were … afraid … of him.

“I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

[jjsloverre]

best kept secret - jm

in which… jj is secretly dating pope’s sister, thinking he could keep it on the low; it showed to be harder than expected.

contains… angst, arguing, smut, unprotected p in v, getting caught, happy ending etc etc (not really proofread)

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

“fuck baby keep goin…” jj moaned as you bounced on his cock. he put his hand over your mouth to keep you from moaning out. “sh-shh ma, gotta keep you quit before your brother hears you… you don’t want pope to hear you moaning my name do you now?” he taunted as he put a smack to your ass.

“this ass is so fuckin’ fat baby.. shit i’m not gonna last long like this…” with a few more thrusts, jj pulled out of you, releasing his sticky cum all over your stomach. “i-i love you.” you whispered to him.

jj paused for a moment, realizing what you just said to him. “y-you love me? already? i mean it’s not a bad thing… i mean i like you so fuckin’ much don’t doubt that, just don’t know if i love you yet…” he stammered, the embarrassment filling the quiet stuffy room. “no i get it, i said it pretty fast huh?” you tried to play off the pained look in your eyes. “sorry jayj.. just forget about it!”

he immediately sensed how embarrassed you felt about the confession. without hesitation, he cuddled you into his arms. “don’t feel embarrassed sweet girl… i love how confident you are in telling how you feel, just like your brother a bit huh? don’t feel embarrassed ok? saying those words to me… mean the absolute world and i’m so happy you feel that way.”

there were footsteps at the door suddenly. then… you heard your brothers voice. “y/n? hey where are you? and have you seen jj?” he shouted. “fuck… i was supposed to meet them a while ago, i wish i could take care of you baby i’m sorry, ima make it up tho, promise.” jj whispered and quickly got up to hide in the bathroom.

“i’m in here!” you yelled back. quickly getting some clothes on you opened the door. “you look like shit! anyway we’re all meeting at the beach so are you coming?”

“yeah i am, let me just fix myself up since i somehow look like shit asshole.”

pope laughed and exited the room. jj emerged from the bathroom as you closed the door. “see you at the beach” giving you a few pecks to your lips and rushed out.

that boy was something else.

★

the beach wasn’t a great idea for jj, not by a long shot. looking at you, in that beautiful bikini, he secretly bought you that green one just so you both could match and damn did he do a good job.

a few surfs later and suggestive looks, jj had enough. when pope wasn’t looking, he took your hand. “baby i missed you.. i can’t fuckin’ take it…” he starts a trail of kisses to your neck. “jj my brother is right there!”

“then you just gotta bend over and take it quietly don’t you hm?” he takes you to the twinkie and immediately yanks your bottoms off and bends you over. “just gotta stay quiet, m’kay baby?” with that, he pulled his swim trunks down, revealing his hard, leaking cock. pumping it a few times he starts to push toward in your tight heat. “oh fuck oh fuck baby shit… just like that… cmon bounce that ass on me.”

“it’s so good baby!” you moaned, jj clamped his hand over your mouth. “m-ma shhh they’re gonna hear you.”

jj started to thrust his hips faster chasing his orgasm. he slipped a hand between your thighs and rubbed your puffy clit. with a cry of his name, you came hard on his cock. and before you knew it, your brother was right there; fuming. “what the fuck are you two doing?!”

“fuck… couldn’t even get my nut off…” he gently pulls out of you, careful not to hurt you. he grabbed his shirt and wrapped it around your bare bottom. “look pope just calm down and-”

“shut the fuck up! y/n. take a walk, now.”

“what why? why can’t i stay-”

pope interrupted again. “take a fucking walk.” you fell silent and began to walk away. before you went, jj gave you a quick kiss. “i’ll take the fall ok? you get questioned, don’t say shit, see you soon beautiful.” when you walked away pope looked at jj with full hatred.

“my fucking sister? you’ve actually lost your damn mind jj? end it now.” jj shook his head vehemently. “fuck no! she’s my girlfriend!” pope scoffed. “girlfriend my ass. for how long? we both know once you get bored you’ll just dump her and you won’t do my sister like that!”

“where’s the faith in your best fucking friend! we’ve been dating for like a year and i’ve been treating her with so much love and respect! i love that girl pope! i love your sister… i-i love y/n, if you can’t except that then i don’t know fuck you but…” he paused for just a moment to choose his next words. “don’t go off on her, just tryna show her happiness, and from the looks of it i’m doin’ a damn good job.”

pope stayed silent for a long time, then spoke. “end it.” then walked away. “fuck…” jj muttered. he’d hope pope would understand but that clearly wasn’t the case. he wanted to have a real and public relationship with you, loving you out loud and not in secret.

“is it bad?” you walked up to him and wrapped your arms around his waist. “nah baby, i got it under control. wanna go to the chateau for a bit? wanna talk to you.”

“he told you to break up with me didn’t he?”

“well yeah, don’t mean ima do it. i love you girl you know that.” oh shit. he realized he finally said those three words to you. “you meant that?” you asked him. he shrugged. “fuck it, yeah i did. i meant to tell you in a better way, was tryna get popes blessing before the words came out but looks like it was a different plan for us huh?”

“i guess so, i love you too!”

★

a week has passed since pope caught you and jj. he was more than the word angry, popping in on the both of you, making you distance yourself from jj, the overprotective brother kicking in. one day, jj snuck through your window. “ma… i can’t do this anymore…”

your heart broke into a million pieces. your brother had caused your boyfriend to finally see that his antics were too much. you were about to cry until he spoke again. “can i sleep with you tonight? i can’t stand not being under you 24/7, i miss you so much baby; so damn much i need you.”

“you made me think you were gonna leave me!” you spat.

“and what makes you think i’d leave you over what pope says or thinks? i don’t listen to anyone, why would i listen to him about who i decide to give my love to? and occasionally make love to.”

“you admit you make love to me huh?” he laughs. “ma you know that’s the only thing i do.”

after 30 minutes of laughing and catching up, pope walks in. “why the fuck are you here jj!” this time you spoke up. “pope stop it, he’s my boyfriend and he’s been my boyfriend and he’s gonna stay like that, he hasn’t hurt me, he’s a sweet guy and i love him… please support me in this one thing?”

a moment of silence passes by and pope finally spoke. “fine.” then he leaves.

“you are a work of art baby, i love you.”

“i love you more.” you replied and sealed your love with a kiss.

your brother finally accepted your relationship, you’re officially happy.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

a/n: this one is a long oneeeee! but i love love! so chris fic tomorrow?

taglist: @sturniologirlzz @sturns-mermaid @chalahyung01 @eddxemxnson @bee-43 @kieeslove @ethanthequeefqueen @sophand4n4 @superlegend216 @anacamofficial @imsiriuslyreal @sttaejoon-blog @moonywhisp3rs @always-reading @maybankslover @slut4rafecameronn @leaseyes @glitterybombshell @aaliyahsturniolo @sturnioloenthousiast @coalicionees

[thjsrots]

princess reader x thief vi drabble

; warnings: riding (tribbing?), top!vi x sub!reader, biting, drool, hate fucking but not really, forbidden sex

As the future ruler of Piltover, you had many responsibilities. Helping keep the people safe, making harsh decisions, and putting on your best face for everyone were some of the few that mattered most. As time consuming and stressful the position was, one could only take on so much at a time without some kind of… relief.

Sure, masturbating did it for you most of the time, but it never quite reached that itch that still buzzed at you after you finished. No matter what you tried; your fingers, toys, pillows, there was always that spot you just couldn’t pleasure enough. You craved something more, something real, someone real. Not just anyone—

Violet Lanes.

She was a cold hard thief, wanted by your parents, who put a hefty bounty over her. Your citizens tore their own heads off, running around like crazed chickens trying to find her and get the reward. But Vi was smart, she knew her way around Piltover, and knew her way around you. While everyone searched high and low for her, she was right above their heads in your room, gripping onto your ass as you shamelessly rut into her cunt. The room was heavy with the squelching noises of mixed wetness, pants, moans, and the smell of forbidden sex. She laid there, working her hips against your drippy cunt as you rode her. She had a smirk on her stupid, hot face, looking oh so proud of herself.

“Geez, Princess. You’re quite greedy, aren’t you?” Vi said in between pants, guiding your thrusts with her hands, making sure she rubbed against just the right spot, making your breath hitch.

You could tell she was doing it on purpose, trying to break down your barriers. Your eyebrows furrowed, fighting the pleasure as best as you could to show disdain, teeth gritting before you spoke. “What—Mmh! Whatever… do you mean?” Your bud was constantly rubbing against hers, eyes rolling back as your hands gripped onto her breasts.

“Well, think of all those poor citizens out there looking for me right now. Ripping their hair out with frustration, and I’m right here, letting their precious Princess ride me. And your parents, Gods don’t even get me started on—”

You cut off her taunting by crashing your lips into hers, sliding your tongue in her mouth as you savored her saliva, making her groan in the process. You pulled away, string stuck between yours and her lips, feeling a warmness spread throughout your lower stomach. “Vi, shut up… S’close…!”

She scoffed, opening her legs up more so you could grind against her whole cunt, your clit smothered with her juices. Your back arched, moans growing louder until she reached over and stuffed her fingers in your mouth. “Actually, I think it’s you who needs to shut up.” Your tongue swirled around her salty digits, sucking on them as your orgasm crept up on you. Vi’s egotistical eyes were fixed on nothing but you, completely eating up the fact that you were naked and vulnerable. She probably felt like she one upped the system, but for some reason, that thought made you even closer. The friction between the two of you was indescribable, unbearable, better than any gourmet meal or anything money could buy. This is what your body so badly needed, what it was craving. It craved the worst person in Piltover, the one that could fuck up your whole royal life if anyone found out.

This orgasm wasn’t like the ones you’d had during your alone time, this one rode out. You felt it at your thighs at first, a tingle that quickly turned into bursting jolts all throughout your body. You stiffened up, drooling and biting on her fingers, damn near drawing blood as you came all over her cunt. You didn’t care how pathetic you looked to her in that moment, you were drunk off nothing but Violet. She reached hers soon after, throwing her head back as she felt your hole dripping cum along her sensitive clit. You threw your body on her, sweaty skin touching, panting as her arms wrapped around you. Your body tensed up, scoffing at her touch, looking up at her face that had a grin plastered on it. You scoffed and glared. “You know, I truly hate you.”

She laughed, poking your nose, making you scrunch it up. You pulled away, sitting up and crossing your arms, staring at the naked, stupidly sexy woman laying in your satin sheets. “You sure about that, Princess?”

should i write more? 🤨

[cjlouwho]

Three Simple Words

needed to get this out before Thursday happens lol

“It’s been a while since we’ve done breakfast, just the two of us,” Maddie said, setting a container of cream cheese on the table. “Although, seeing as you brought a half dozen homemade bagels I can tell not much has changed.”

Buck ignored her, eyes settling on the scar that ran across her neck. “How are you doing, Maddie?”

Maddie cleared her throat, adjusting the collar of her shirt slightly. “I’m fine, Buck, really,” she replied, giving him a reassuring smile. “Now, what’s been up with you lately? Please tell me you’re doing more than baking in your free time.”

He grabbed a bagel and set it on his plate. “I- I am. I went out the other night t- to this book group thing. It was nice. Fun. Met some cool people.”

“Well, that’s good. Have you heard from Eddie at all?”

“A couple times. I don’t think things are going too great there.”

“Mm,” Maddie hummed. “Tough situation, I’m sure.”

“Yeah.” Buck squirmed in his seat a bit, ripping off a piece of his bagel and taking a bite. “I, uh, I ran into Tommy at work a couple days ago, actually.”

The alarm bell sounded in Maddie’s head. She hid a smile. Here was the real reason for the emergency breakfast. “Really? Was it awkward?”

“A little, at first, I guess. It- It’s kinda funny,” he said, huffing out a laugh. “For seven years we never seemed to work together at all and now, all of a sudden, th- there he is.”

“Well,” Maddie beckoned, curiosity piqued, “did you talk to him?”

“Y- Yeah, we talked a little bit. I, um, well we both kinda at the same time asked if we could talk, s- so I invited him over to the new place.”

“And he came?”

Buck’s eyes widened slightly as he choked down his next bite. “Um, yeah. H- He came over.”

“Did you talk?”

“We, uh, we started to. I- I thought it would be a good opportunity for closure, you know? We could say all the things we didn’t get to say before. But...”

God, it was like pulling teeth today. “But?”

“But then he was on my couch,” Buck replied, a blush rising on his cheeks. “And he was wearing the black button down with his sleeves rolled up. And he kept looking at me with his eyes-”

Maddie shook her head. “Oh, Evan.”

“Y- You don’t understand, Maddie,” he said, his tone pleading. “Those eyes; he looked at me a- and I forgot everything I had in my head to say to him. The next thing I know, we’re in bed.”

Maddie picked up her mug, taking a big sip of coffee before asking, “So, what, you had a one night stand with your ex?”

“Oh, well, um, I- I mean yeah it happened that night, but it also happened the next morning.”

She closed her eyes, breathing deeply. “Okay.”

“An- And then that afternoon,” Buck continued with a shrug. “He’s s- supposed to come over later too.”

“Buck, I…” Maddie paused, trying to think of the right way to phrase her question. “I know you’re an adult, and you can do whatever you want, but… is this what you want?”

His cocked his head to the side, eyebrows furrowed. “Wh- What do you mean?”

“I mean.” She sighed. “I mean you two were pretty serious, right? You saw a future with him. And now, it’s what? You hook up and that’s it?”

“It’s… I don’t know, it just happened, Maddie.”

“Three times, so far,” Maddie reminded him. “Listen,” she reached out, placing her hand over his, “I just want to make sure you’re happy, Evan. That’s all I care about. I- If you’re happy with this arrangement, then that’s great, but… are you?”

Buck stared down at his bagel. Bagels that he started working on the second Tommy left. Kept working on them even after he’d lost the battle with his mind and ended up texting him to come back over again soon. He’d held his breath when the text bubbles appeared. Kept holding it until Tommy had texted him back with a thumbs up.

His shoulders slumped. “I just- I don’t know what to do, Maddie. I asked him to move in with me, ya know? I- I love him and he dumped me and now we- we’re just doing this weird friends with benefits thing, I guess. And i- it feels good at the time-- I mean, really good-”

Maddie held up her hand. “Fast forward, Buck.”

He sighed. “But afterward, it’s hurts. I want more than sex. I- I want everything.”

“Have you told him this?”

“Of course I told him I wanted him to move in, Maddie. You know that.”

She rolled her eyes. “I mean the “I love you” part, Evan.”

He thought for a second, face pensive. “Well, he has to know, right? I- I mean, you don’t just ask someone to move in if you don’t love them.”

“That very much does happen,” Maddie answered, nodding her head for emphasis. “It happens all the time, and that’s probably exactly what Tommy thought was occurring in that situation.”

“I- but, I… I thought it was implied.”

Maddie followed Buck’s eyes, making sure he was looking straight at her as she spoke. “Buck, you need to talk to him.”

“I’ve been trying,” Buck pouted.

“Have you? Because it sounds like you’ve been doing everything except talking. If you can’t figure out a way to keep your hands off of each other in private, then ask him out for coffee or lunch or something. But you need to actually talk about this.”

Buck pursed his lips. “What if it’s not what he wants though? What if he runs away again?”

“Then you’ll know for sure that you two want different things. But, until you have that talk, you’re going to be stuck in this limbo for who knows how long.” She lifted her hand, pinky pointed up toward him. “You’ll talk to him?”

He nodded, wrapping his pinky around hers. “I’ll talk to him.”

*****

Buck thought back to his and Maddie’s conversation as he and Athena chased after Tommy's helicopter. He was still trying to put all the pieces together. Tommy had called him, just a few hours earlier. A staticky conversation happening over the line. Buck thought it was a butt dial at first, but when he heard yelling he stayed on the phone. Then he heard Tommy mention weapons, and taking him instead of the other hostages. He heard Tommy say that he was the pilot, and he could get them out of there.

Calling Athena, meeting her at Tommy’s last known location, getting in her SUV to try and beat these criminals or terrorists to wherever they were going, that was all a blur.

Because Buck hadn’t kept his promise. Not yet.

Tommy had come over, and Buck’s words died on his tongue. Fear took over, and then Tommy’s mouth was on his, and everything felt right again.

This continued for weeks, with Buck telling himself that the next time would be when he finally told Tommy the truth. The next time is when he’d have the courage.

And now it was hitting him.

There may not be a next time.

And he may never get to tell Tommy that he loves him.

His head whipped up toward the sky when Athena gasped, and that’s when he realized what was happening.

The helicopter was hurtling right towards the ground.

[soggyriceee]

Omg, I’m obsessed with your writing, girllll! The other CoD characters can fight me, but König is ride or die🥵..

Could you write a story where the reader has been in a relationship with König for years? And it’s that gruff, dominant König, you know what I mean—then they get into an argument, things get heated, and boom… BOOMBAYA PERIODT.

watch your mouth | konig

/mean konig, dom and sub dynamic, choking, konig just really isn’t rocking with your nasty ass attitude after you come home from a rough day at class/

konig was usually very sweet. he never yelled at you, the idea of hitting you never even crossed his mind once. he was kind but he didn’t play games either.

his patience with you definitely grew as your relationship built up. however, you had your days as one does, and he was usually really good at working arouns your sassy responses and facial expressions. but tonight was much different

you had failed your math exam for class, bringing you grade down to a whopping C-. you were a very studious person it was something Konig found sexy about you. he liked that you had plans for your future and worked towards them. not that he wouldn’t complain once abojt you being his stay at home wife, but he also didn’t want to push that lifestyle onto you.

“well just take the retest libe.. it’ll be alright.” he said, leaning against the door frame as he watched you chuck your bag and books all over the just cleaned room. “that’s not the point!” you yelled a bit too loud.

but you couldn’t help it. your body was shaking with anger. you always had a feeling your math teacher disliked you. but once you compared answers with your friend you realized math was just a topic you struggle with. and that made you even more angry

he held his tongue, before speaking again. “my love youre getting a bit loud. i wanna help but you aren’t even actually talking to me, youre yelling.” again, patient.

however you didn’t like how he spoke to you. he wasn’t mean, but you didn’t like how you were mad and he spoke to you with that fake ass soft voice. it felt like he was trying to talk to you like you were a child. you might be acting like one, but you weren’t one.

“konig leave me the fuck alone.” you said bluntly, pushing past him and making your way to the bathroom. it was your “me” space for when you wanted to get away from Konig. when you locked yourself in there, he knew to leave you alone for at least ten minuets before checking on you.

but this time, his patience was more than thin. he had a bad day himself! and you didn’t even bother to ask, just yell at him.

his hand quickly gripped your wrist, yanking you back into the bedroom. yelping, you tried to push off him but of course, what business did you have overpowering a 6 foot man like Konig?

he shoved you on the bed, his chest heaving. it was scary sure, but this just made you even more pissed. as soon as you went to speak he grabbed your jaw, holding it still. “i don’t care how bad a day you had” he does, “you watch your mouth and tone when speaking to me.”

his eyes shot daggers into your softening ones, the pumping in your heart moving down between your legs now. you whimpered softly, your eyes shooting down. “look at me.” he growled.

when your eyes didn’t meet his, he huffed. it’s not that you were scared of him hell no. it’s that you were still angry and didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of listening to him.

his hands worked quick to shove you down, pressing his hand against your throat as your back hit the mattress. his eyes pierced into you, his neck vein bulging out. again, konig already had a bad day. dealing with you’re nasty attitude was not going to be it was going to finish.

“i told you look at me didn’t i?” he growled, his face almost pressing against yours now. his breath hot and low as he spoke. when you whimpered a yes into his palm, he hummed, nodding his head softly. “didn’t listen did you?”

his other hand made its way around your body, teyinf to distract you. slow and small circles against your hips, eyes scanning your face. a small , fake smile spread on his lips as he got closer to your pulsing cunt.

when he grazed his fingers over your crotch, your hips bucked up, feigning for more than just that. he shook his head, tsk-ing at your desperate reaction. “if you weren’t so mean to me maybe this pussy would be getting some attention.” he smirked, looking down as he continued to make small, light handed circles against it.

your eyes squeezed shut, trying to focus on what little feeling he was giving you. youve cum just from his voice alone while he was away killing people, you could finish from just this too.

but konig was fully aware of the effect he had on your body, how easy it was for you to come undone for him, pathetic really. his fingers stopped focusing on your covered cunt, and moved their way up your body instead.

his hand remained on your mouth, annoyed by youre voice enough today. “wanna apologize?” he finally asked, his finger sliding up and under your sweater to your bra.

the more you tried to apologize, the firmer and deeper his hand would push you into the mattress. he smiled to himself, listening to you get more and more muffled. “no?” he asked, eyes meeting yours, flashing his amusement.

he shrugged, mumbling an “okay” before wrapping his fingers arouns your pants, pulling them down. his hands pushed your legs apart, not that he really had to anyways, sighing at the wet spot already on your panties. “so easy..” he mumbled, pressing his thumb rifht in the middle of it.

your eyes closed, a sigh of relief coming from you as his thumb worked it way against your clit. but it wasn’t enough.

he didn’t apply much pressure at all, and the speed was just terrible. it felt good sure, but it wasn’t enough to get you off.

your hands began reaching for his, trying to get them to move even a bit faster. but he was quick, slapping them away. “you think you deserve anything from me right now? take what i give you.” he said, pointing his finger in your face as a angry parent would to their child.

you whined, pushing your hips up. a muffled please could be heard from you, but he didn’t care. his thumb went back to the lazy pace he had, watching as your hips bucked up and pleaded for more.

he felt his cock press right against his leg, groaning at the throbbing sensation. he had already been waiting for you to get home to abuse and use your pussy. you’re making him wait now, and that didn’t make konig so happy ..

your head pressed into the mattress, tears streaming down your face as he worked you through your third orgasm. it was too much, way more than you were begging him for. “oh poor baby.. thought you wanted this no… begged for it so much now this pussy cant take it?” he said from behind, rubbing his hand up and down your back as his hips pushed in and out of your dripping cunt.

your legs shook violently, barely able to hold you up. your kind grew fuzzy, hands gripping the sheets below you. words were unable to be formed, leaving you with no way to speak up.

konig watched you from above, smiling to himself and the work he’s done. he hasn’t dared to cum, wanting to abuse and use you for just a bit more. plus it was fun seeing you suffer like this.

his hips began picking up the pace again, letting you know he wasn’t close to being down with you at all. “she’s taking me so well..” he cooed, rubbing his hands on your red ass as he watched your cunt leak for him. “p-please” you sobbed, your shaky arms going to push him away.

he simply took them however, pinning them against your back as he shoved himself back into you. it was all too much. your body shook beneath him, begging him to stop his attack on you. “just tell me your sorry bunny..” he said, head falling back as he felt his high creep up on him again.

you sobbed apologies, even looking back to meet his eyes. but your eyes, dilated and teary, only made his balls tighten as you spewed apologies at him. “i’m sorry konig .. p-please i cant take .. i cant take it!”

he growled down at you, shoving your head back into the mattress. he watched as your ass moved against him, your shaky limbs and the way your juices covered his cock. his fingers duh into your scalp, gripping your hair as his cum painted your insides, ropes shooting deep inside as he fucked himself throufh it.

for the first time that night he sounded so pathetic, so whiny. his eyes rolled back , tongue sticking out as his hips rocked back and forth. “f-fuck..” he grumbled, coming back to Earth to the sight of your worn out body.

you were so happy he had finished, only to feel his hips begin to rock once again. “that doesn’t sound believable enough..” he would whisper into your ear, smiling as you let another choked sob into the mattress.

konig if you were real id never tap out I SWEAR

[corpsedogs]

jason todd x reader

slight gender dysmorphia mention(?)

✿ get outta here! — you intrude jason’s bath time

For Jason, a long warm bath was one way for him to blow off some steam. Letting the warm water seep through his skin felt so much better after drenching himself in hours in the cold Gotham rain. He had come home from patrol an hour ago, and was still quite bitter on how Tim had gotten to all the goons before he did. Poor Jason couldn’t really do anything afterwards but leave and go home.

Course, you were there in the bedroom waiting for him till he got out— though, he wasn’t sure if he told you that he was going to stay there for a bit. He was well aware that you might check on him soon, considering he has been here for a while. But surprisingly, you haven’t, so he doesn’t think about it that much.

He hears the door swing open and your footsteps pad on the bathroom floor, Jason could see your silhouette behind the curtains. “Are you still taking a bath?” you called out, he saw your fingers slide in between the bathroom curtains. “Well, I’m gonna be here for a while,” he replies as he tilts his head, “Why? Something up?” he asks.

You shook your head as you moved the curtains, ”No, I wanted to wash my feet.” Jason frowns, “Really now?’ he didn’t really want anyone to disturb his alone time. But since it was you, maybe he could let it slide. “Sorry if it’s a problem.” you apologized, “But don’t worry, I’m just here to soak my feet for a bit.”

Jason scoffs, “How modest of you.” he says as he gives a bit of space “Then make yourself at home.” you smiled as you rolled up your long blouse to your thighs.

Jason placed a towel on the edge of the bathtub for you to sit on as your legs dipped in the warm water. “Yikes, it’s hot.” you commented while Jason merely shrugged “It’s not too bad.” he replied as he took the soap bar and handed it to you.

You thanked him as you started to scrub your body. It was silent for a bit till you spoke up, “Still stingy about today? You’ve been in here for a while.” you asked. He scoffed as he moved his hair out of his face, “Well yeah.” he really wanted to get a punch or two today but someone just had to go and take care of it instead of him. He looks over to you, “Can you blame me? I mean, thoss was supposed to be mine.”

You raised your brow at him, “You’re more mad at Tim than getting soaked by the cold rain?” you asked. Jason couldn’t help but roll his eyes again, “Course I’m pissed about that too.” he replied as he leaned his head on the back of the tub. He wanted to complain more on how the rain was freezing his ass off, but didn’t mention anything.

You couldn’t help but teasingly smile and ruffle his slightly wet hair, “Aw, my poor baby.” Jason glared at you and lifted his head to look at you, “Shut up.” he scoffs and splashes a bit of water in your blouse.

“Hey wait! I’m still wearing a shirt.” you said as you shielded yourself from the water, “Should’ve taken it off first then.” Jason replies.

The two of you sat in silence as you continued to wash your feet, “You know, back then. I used to scrub myself roughly from head to toe, I wasn’t even sure if I was that dirty.”

Jason couldn’t help but be curious, “Yeah? Why?” he asks, you paused for a while before answering “Cause I didn’t really know how to take care of myself back then.” you replied, “I was more focused on looking good rather than doing what’s best for me.” Jason takes it in for a moment, “Well, if you're asking me. I don’t really care what you look like.” he said.

You can’t help but chuckle, “Really?” Jason can’t help but frown, he could tell that you probably didn’t think that his comment was a big deal, which was for him. “Yeah really.” he replied, “I don’t care if you look good or not it’s-“ he falters as thinks of how to continue his words for a moment, “But, you get what I mean right?” he looks away from your gaze a bit to try and hide his embarrassed face.

Now it was your turn to give him a look, you were taken aback by his words. “Oh.” you replied, unsure on how to reply “You mean that?” you were definitely sure of it, but you just wanted to hear him say it.

"Yeah, I do." he says, "Do you think I would lie to you about that?" He was starting to get a bit defensive, not liking the fact that you were doubting him. You shook your head in response, “I wasn’t doubting you, I just wanted to hear you say something sweet.” you smiled. Jason scoffs at your cockiness, “I was just being honest.” It wasn’t like he didn’t want to tell you something sweet, it was just he wasn’t too confident to do it. He sighs as he sinks in the water a bit, “You’re a real smartass you know? Are you done cleaning your legs?”

As you nodded he sighs in relief, “Okay, bathe time over, get outta here.” you can’t help but chuckle as you pull your legs out, and finally he had the bathtub all by himself again.

“Now don’t just go standing there. You’re blocking the light.” He complained as you rolled your eyes, “What a grump.” you murmured as you left the bathroom.

🛁 this fic was inspired on veil by kotteri, anyways like and reblog thank chu very much

[love-quinn]

— DON’T SAY THAT

summary — you and remus find each other doing what you both do best: hiding from the rest of the school.

warning — none

pairing — remus lupin x fem!reader

pronouns — none but reader is explicitly mentioned to be a girl

word count — 1.9k

note — this is another super old draft i’ve been sitting on, i hope u like it :3 thank u for 300 followers <3

The wooden panelling of the window was sticking into your back but you weren’t planning on moving. The sun was hitting your back in a way that filled you up completely. You had your current read in your lap, curling your neck into a crevice. The East hallway on the fifth floor was pretty much deserted most afternoons, most of the classrooms up there were for classes that no longer ran anymore.

Summer was quickly approaching, and with summer came the end to your time at Hogwarts. You weren’t a hundred percent sure you knew what you were doing after you finished school, you knew the general field, but you didn’t have a dream job or anything.

The pages of your book were browned by the sunshine, and it was hot to the touch as you flipped the page.

There was the distant sound of footsteps, and you shrunk further into your alcove, a little sunset set right into a window that overlooked the Quidditch pitch. The Hufflepuffs were training down there, and you watched them zoom around between pages.

You had nowhere you were meant to be, it was hours until curfew and the wing wasn’t off limits. No danger of getting in trouble.

The footsteps slowed to a stop around the corner, you couldn’t see them with your back pressed into the panelling. Eventually, you heard a breath, and swivelled your neck to see who was there. You recognised him from a few of your classes, and just from around. He was tall, taller than the rest of his friends, with messy hair and a heaving chest.

You weren’t staring at him, but you were definitely looking. He locked eyes with you and gave a sheepish smile. “Ah, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You’re alright,” you said gently. “What were you running from?”

He looked embarrassed to have been caught. “Oh, just… you know.”

You didn’t, but you nodded anyway. “Right.”

He looked back in the direction he had come. “Don’t think anyone will come up here looking for me. I don’t suppose you mind sharing your hiding spot with me?” He asked softly.

You pulled your knees closer to your chest, giving him enough room on the seat to sit. There was already room, it was deep enough for you both to sit side by side, but you figured he’d want the space. “I’ve seen you around loads,” he said, tucking himself away. His eyes were the colour of honey in the sunlight. He sat cross-legged, sleeves of his jumper pulled over his slender fingers. “Are we in the same muggle studies class?”

You nodded, pleased with the recognition. “I don’t know why you take that class, you already know everything.”

“My mum’s a muggle born,” he laughed, ducking his head. “But she was never able to share that stuff with me as much as she wants to, not with… all this,” he gestured around and your eyes fell to the quidditch team on the ground. They were packing up, dusk was coming soon.

“That’s really sweet,” you said honestly, smiling behind where you held your book against your chin.

He gave you a mirrored grin, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m so sorry, but you’ll have to remind me of your name. I’m normally not this rude, I promise.”

You told him and he snapped his fingers like you’d just given him some sort of breakthrough. “Right, I am awfully sorry.”

You shook your head, leaning against the glass of the window. “There’s no need to be sorry.”

He studied your face for a second, a frown working its way into his eyebrows. “You already know my name,” he guessed.

You shrugged, somewhat embarrassed. “I get you guys confused,” you said airily. “You’re either Remus or Sirius.”

He groaned, forehead landing on your knee. “Don’t say that to me, I thought we were becoming friends.” He wiped his hand over his face. “Do I look like much of a Sirius?”

“About as much as you look like a Remus,” you reasoned. That wasn’t entirely true. Remus was soft, it was a cosy name that had some sort of academic background you couldn’t recall. Sirius was a star, you’d learned in mandatory first-year astronomy. You’d never spoken to any of Remus’s friends, but if you had to guess any of them to be named after a star, you’d pick Sirius, charming smiles and chipped nails.

“Godric, just say you hate me.” He said dramatically. “I can never tell him that, he’ll be over the moon.”

You smiled at that, and he brightened. He’d been trying to pull a real, proper, one out of you since he’d arrived. He gave them a lot more liberally than you did apparently. Remus couldn’t really imagine looking at your face and not smiling.

There were more footsteps and Remus sighed. “I’d better head off. You only need one idiot interrupting you.”

You didn’t correct him, though you wanted to. He walked off with the air of someone who wasn’t actively being chased. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” you said agreeably, not really believing him. He’d been a lot nicer than you’d expected. All three of them, Remus, Sirius and their friend James, were fairly intimidating. Taller than most of the other seventh-years, James was the captain of the Quidditch team and Head Boy, and Sirius had his own reputation. It was easy to see them as scary. They’d never done anything to you to cement the idea, but they’d also never done anything to disprove it. Not until then, anyway.

Dinner arrived and you took your book back to the Great Hall to eat. You sat with your friends and had almost forgotten about your encounter with the boy until the next afternoon. There was a summer storm coming, heralding in the season, with thick grey clouds off in the distance. For the moment, though, it was as warm as ever, and you were looking forward to being stretched out on the seat and continuing your book. You had friends, roommates, classmates, plenty of people who would be more than happy to let you keep them company after classes ended. But you liked coming up here. Hogwarts was often busy, especially outside, especially in the warmer months. You got to people watch in the quiet, and you didn’t mind it. The large windows gave you a view of the changing weeks without needing to ever alter your routine to suit the weather.

When you reached the seat, though, it wasn’t empty. Remus Lupin was sitting there with his History of Magic textbook open on his lap. You stood there for a moment, right in the spot he had been when you had seen him the afternoon earlier.

“You can sit,” Remus teased, “I don’t mind sharing.”

You sat, flattening your skirt and mirroring his crossed legs. His were a lot longer than yours, but there was more than enough space for you to give him extra legroom. “Oh, how generous.”

“I brought a book as well,” he held it up. “Mine’s nonfiction, though. I get shy. Figured I didn’t want to put you out too much. Not that I have to stay, of course.”

You shook your head. “Like I said, you’re alright. I can’t really picture you being shy about anything.”

He beamed. “Oh, you should see some of my books.” He let out a puff of air like he hadn’t used enough of his breath by talking. “It’s appalling, honestly. You’d lose all respect for me.”

“I don’t care what you read,” you assured him.

He shook his head. “No, it’s the state of them. You seem like one of those people who think books are this sacred thing - which, don’t get me wrong, I agree. But the state of them, I think I’ve written more in margins than I ever have for school.”

You let out a laugh, not too loud for how close you two were sitting, but loud enough that he could make out each individual layer of your voice. You flipped over your book and showed him your annotations that you had made months ago. This was your favourite, and you’d reread it dozens of times. “Ah, one of us I see,” Remus said happily. His whole face lifted when he smiled, like a spring that had finally let go and been snapped back to its original position.

“This one’s blank, I donate my books back to the school at the end of the year,” he explained. You didn’t even realise the school did that, you’d always gotten your books from Diagon Alley at the beginning of each year. You did vaguely remember seeing old potions textbooks in the bottom of the ingredients cupboard.

“Of course you do,” you shook your head, looking down at your lap and stifling a giggle. “Pack of saints, you lot are.”

Remus looked offended. “I resent your insinuation, evil girl.”

You raised your eyebrows innocently. “I’m just saying, I’m pretty sure I saw one of you throw a dungbomb across the hall during breakfast yesterday morning. I find it rather difficult to connect that person to this one.”

“I am multifaceted,” Remus said matter-of-factly. “Besides, that was James. I had no part in it.”

You gave him an appraising look, but he didn’t waver. “Of course. Where do your friends think you are, anyway?”

That surprised him well and truly. You’d been a bit of a surprise as a whole, really. You usually kept to yourself as far as Remus had seen. Even when you were with your friends, Remus had never heard you talk as comfortably as you seemed to be doing with him. He didn’t understand why you’d ask him that. “Here,” he said like it was obvious. It should have been. “With you.”

“Oh,” your eyebrows furrowed and then your face cleared with much deliberation. “Of course, right.”

“Why would I lie about coming to see you?” He asked, looking right at your face. Your eyeline was still in your lap. “I think you’re great. I want to get to know you better.”

You finally looked up at him and he felt the sun hit his face again, despite the fact that it was now hidden behind the impending clouds. “I want to get to know you better, too, Remus.”

He flashed you a wide grin. “I’ll have to ask their permission, of course.” He was teasing you again. You rolled your eyes and uncrossed your legs, stretching them so you could kick him as gently as possible.

“I hope they’ll like me,” you didn’t realise you did until you said it out loud.

“James’ll love you,” Remus said casually, like you were actually planning on meeting him. Neither of you had any intentions on breaking from your new tradition, especially not so early on. “It’s Sirius you’ll have to win over.”

You bit your lip. “I have to like, prove my intentions with you, or something?”

Remus laughed, and the sound echoed around the corridor. “No, no, you could fuck me over royally and he wouldn’t care.” Your laugh joined his and Remus scooched as close as he could in such a confined space. You didn’t mind, your thigh pressed against his. He finally spoke up again after a minute, voice filled with honey. “No, you’re just much prettier than he is.”

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

Kavi did you see that video of Oscar trying snacks in Abu Dhabi? He tried karak chai and it didn’t even make the podium, lowkey hurt my feelings 🥲 then I remembered this gora pakora lived in the UK and probably drinks that weak British version of tea… anyways now I’m thinking of desi!reader just arguing with him over being uncultured bc wdym you don’t love karak chai!!

uncultured ☕︎

⏾ op x desi!reader ⋆⑅˚₊

⏾ fluff ⋆⑅˚₊

masterlist ☾☼

"what do you mean you don't love karak chai!!" you say, throwing your hands up in disgust. oscar, stretched out on the sofa, looks up at you with a faintly puzzled look.

"i just… don't get it," he says, shrugging very slightly. "it's… really strong. and milky. and… spicy?"

"spicy?!" you splutter, appalled. "it's not spicy! it's… warming! comforting! it's like a hug in a mug!"

oscar raises an eyebrow. "a very intense hug," he grumbles under his breath.

"you're just uncultured," you say, crossing your arms. "you wouldn't understand. it's a desi thing."

"uncultured?" oscar asks, a smile in his voice. "i've traveled around the world! i love all kinds of foods! i just… don't really enjoy karak chai."

"that's what an uncultured person would say!" you say, walking back and forth. "it's like… it's like not liking paella in spain! it's a sin almost!"

oscar chuckles. "alright, alright, i get it. you're extremely enthusiastic about tea."

"enthusiastic?" you snort.

but maybe… maybe you could show me? teach me? indicate the error of my ways?"

you raise an eyebrow at him doubtfully. "joking?"

"no, no, seriously!" he affirms. "i want to learn. maybe you can brew me a cup, the way you do it. maybe then i'll get the magic."

you consider this for a moment. it's a wild guess, but just maybe, you might be able to convert him. "hmm," you say, running your chin over your thumb. "alright. but don't say i didn't warn you."

oscar grins. "i'm willing to take the risk. but if i still don't like it, you have to admit people have different tastes."

"fine," you concede. "but you're going to love it. just you wait."

at last, you pour boiling tea into a mug and pass it to oscar with bravado. "behold," you declare. "the karak chai that shall change your life."

oscar takes a reluctant sip. he closes his eyes for a second, taking in the aroma and the taste. you hold your breath in expectation of his critique.

he blinks his eyes open, frowning thoughtfully. "hmm," he says. "it's. actually pretty decent."

you smile. "i told you!"

"it's still very strong," he continues, "but… i can see what you're saying about the warmth and the comfort. and the spices are… interesting."

"interesting?" you repeat, feigning hurt. "they're magical!"

oscar chuckles. "okay, magical. but i still wouldn't say i'm a convert. but… i'm certainly happy to try it again."

you smile. "that's all i ask. one cup at a time. soon you'll be begging for it."

oscar grins. "we'll see about that. but in the meantime… thanks for the. cultural experience."

you grin back. "anytime. just remember, i tried to save you from a life of unculturedness."

and as the two of you settle back into the sofa, each with their drink of choice, you can't help but feel a bit superior.

⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

i hope you like this! im sorry it took me so long to write this! i have been taking a bit of a break recently! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @anamiad00msday ; @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @peterholland04 ; @justaf1girl ; @greantii ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @phobiccneel ; @winkev1 ; @alexxavicry ; @hiireadstuff

[mediocre-shark-tales]

Heat Exhaustion

Doohan Sister Reader F1 Driver Reader Cadillac Formula 1 Reader

Trigger Warning - Panic Attack

It was late, far too late to be awake when I had a flight to catch soon, but my mind wouldn’t quiet down. I was lying on my bed, my phone resting on my chest as I stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. The past week had been a whirlwind—another podium, more speculation about Max and me, the journalist still lurking in the shadows, and now… Max knowing the truth.

I should have felt relieved that he was on my side, that he wasn’t going to expose me, but instead, I felt like the walls were still closing in. Every day was a balancing act, a game of deception that I had to play to protect what I loved. And even though I trusted the few people who knew, the fact remained that they had all found out by accident.

I never got to choose who knew the truth about me.

Until now.

My fingers twitched as I lifted my phone, unlocking it and opening the group chat with Kimi and Ollie. They had been checking in on me more than usual, sending casual texts but always slipping in a "How are you feeling?" or "You sure you're good?" I appreciated it, but I also knew they were picking up on things I wasn’t saying.

I hesitated before finally typing.

Me: Hey, are you guys up?

The typing bubble appeared almost instantly.

Ollie: Yeah, what’s up? Kimi: Everything okay?

I chewed on my bottom lip, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. This wasn’t something I could just say easily. But I needed to get it out.

Me: I’ve just been thinking a lot about last weekend. It was… a lot to handle.

A pause, then—

Ollie: Yeah, we figured. You’ve been kinda off. Kimi: Not talking as much. That’s not like you.

I let out a soft breath, a small smile tugging at my lips despite the heaviness in my chest. They noticed.

Me: Yeah… it’s just hard to explain sometimes.

Kimi: You don’t have to if you’re not ready. But if you ever want to, we’re here.

That was the thing—I did want to.

I had spent so long keeping people at arm’s length, maintaining the act, making sure no one ever saw too much. I had gotten used to it. But Kimi and Ollie were two of the people I had grown to genuinely care about on the grid. And I wanted them to know me the way that Franco, Lando, Oscar, and now Max did.

I wanted to choose them.

I gripped my phone tighter before finally typing out the words.

Me: Actually… I think I want to tell you guys something. Something big.

The typing bubbles popped up immediately.

Ollie: Okay…? Kimi: Now I’m curious.

I exhaled slowly, staring at the screen, willing myself to go through with it.

Me: Every person who knows this about me found out by accident. I never really got to choose who I told.

A pause. Then—

Ollie: What do you mean? Kimi: Are you saying… you want to tell us?

My heart was pounding. This was it.

Me: Yeah. I do. I trust you both, and I want you to actually know me.

There was a longer silence this time. For a moment, I wondered if they were freaking out, if they were regretting saying they’d always be here.

Then—

Kimi: Wow… okay. When? Ollie: Yeah, whenever you’re ready, we’re here.

I let out a shaky breath, a warmth spreading through my chest.

Me: How about after media duties on Thursday in Qatar? Just us, maybe in my hotel room. I want to finally show you who I am.

It felt strange to say it like that—show them who I was. But that was the reality. No one besides Franco, Lando, Oscar, and now Max had seen me without the baggy clothes, the helmet, the entire disguise I had carefully built. Kimi and Ollie had only ever known Ghost. Now, they would finally meet me.

The typing bubble appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again, as if they were thinking hard about their response. Then, finally—

Ollie: We’ll be there. Kimi: Of course. We wouldn’t miss it.

I exhaled deeply, my shoulders slumping with relief as I locked my phone and pressed it against my chest.

For the first time, I was choosing who to trust. I was deciding who got to know the real me. That made all the difference as my mind began to relax, I was able to fit in a nice nap before my alarm woke me to leave for the airport. 

—

The seconds dragged, stretching unbearably as I sat on the edge of my hotel bed, my hands clenched into fists so tight that my nails dug into my palms. My helmet was still on, the visor down, the only thing keeping me hidden for just a little while longer. My hoodie felt suffocating, but I didn’t push it back. Not yet.

I had been so sure when I texted them.

I had spent the whole week telling myself this was the right thing to do, that this was the moment I would finally get to take control over something that had been out of my hands for far too long. Every other person who had found out had done so by accident—Franco, Lando, Oscar, even Max. Each time, it had happened without me choosing it, without me deciding I was ready.

This time, I had made the choice. I had typed the words out myself, I had asked Kimi and Ollie if they would come.

So why did I feel like my heart was about to beat out of my chest?

I exhaled sharply, my knee bouncing as I tried to shake the feeling off. This is nothing. This is just another reveal.

But it wasn’t, not really.

Because they weren’t just my teammates or my rivals. They were my friends. And they had become my friends without knowing who I really was.

What if this did change things?

What if they looked at me differently? What if they started treating me like I was fragile? What if—

Knock knock knock.

I jolted upright, breath catching in my throat.

The moment was here.

For a fleeting second, I considered staying put, pretending I wasn’t in, sending them a last-minute excuse that something had come up. But deep down, I knew I couldn’t do that. I had come this far, had spent years hiding, and I was so tired of it.

Swallowing down my nerves, I forced myself up, my feet feeling heavier than usual as I crossed the room.

Another knock, gentler this time.

They were waiting.

I reached for the handle, hesitating just long enough to take a steadying breath before pulling the door open.

Kimi and Ollie stood there, both looking equally nervous.

Their eyes flicked immediately to my helmet, to the way my hoodie draped over me, and I saw the realization hit them—that I was shaking.

“You don’t have to do this,” Ollie said immediately, stepping forward slightly. “If you don’t feel ready, we won’t be upset.”

“Seriously,” Kimi added, his voice softer than I had ever heard it. “We don’t want you to feel like you have to do this. It’s okay if you change your mind.”

Their kindness nearly broke me.

I clenched my jaw, gripping the edge of my hoodie sleeves, trying to hold myself together. They were giving me an out—offering me an escape with no strings attached. And for a second, a small part of me wanted to take it.

But I had spent so long not having a choice.

I wanted this.

“No,” I said, shaking my head slightly. “I want to do this. I need to.”

They studied me for a long moment, like they were trying to make sure I really meant it.

Then, finally, Ollie gave me a small smile, one that told me he understood just how much this moment meant to me. Kimi nodded in agreement.

“Okay,” Kimi said simply.

I stepped back, letting them inside. The door clicked shut behind them, and suddenly, the room felt so much smaller.

The weight of what I was about to do pressed down on my shoulders.

I turned to face them, my hands still trembling slightly, but I clenched them into fists again, trying to ground myself.

“One rule,” I said, my voice quieter than usual. “No matter who is under this helmet… you can’t tell anyone.”

Ollie’s expression softened further, his brows pulling together like he could see just how much this meant to me. “Of course. We’d never do that.”

Kimi nodded firmly. “We promise. We wouldn’t risk losing you. We have come to care for you as more than just a competitor.”

The words hit harder than I expected, my chest tightening at the sheer sincerity in their voices.

They didn’t care about the mystery, about the reveal itself.

They just cared about me.

I inhaled sharply, feeling a lump form in my throat as I lifted my hands to my helmet.

This was it.

The final moment before the truth came out.

I hesitated, my fingers gripping the edges. My mind screamed at me to stall, to wait just another second, just another minute, but I forced myself to push through the fear.

They’re your friends. They won’t leave. They won’t treat you differently.

Slowly, I lifted the helmet off.

The cool air hit my face first, followed by the flop of my hair from within the casing.

For a second, neither of them moved as an eerie silence filled the room.

Then, Ollie’s eyes widened, his mouth parting slightly as he blinked in pure shock. Kimi’s reaction was quieter, but his expression shifted instantly, his brows raising in understanding.

The weight of the moment pressed down on me, my heartbeat hammering so loudly in my ears that I swore they could hear it.

Seconds stretched unbearably, and then—

Ollie let out a quiet, breathless laugh, his lips twitching up into a grin. “No way.”

Kimi exhaled, shaking his head with something that looked like disbelief before his lips curled into a soft smile. “That’s why you were so nervous, huh?”

I nodded slowly, unable to find my voice.

Ollie let out a low whistle, running a hand through his hair. “Mate, you’ve been fooling the entire world.”

Something about his tone—light, teasing, not at all distant or different—made the tension in my shoulders loosen slightly.

Kimi tilted his head, studying me for a moment before nodding. “This… actually makes a lot of sense now.”

I blinked. “It does?”

Kimi hummed in amusement, tilting his head as he studied me. “Yeah… the way you’ve been moving, the way you’ve been hiding. It wasn’t just about keeping your identity a secret, was it?” His voice was quieter now, thoughtful. “It was about making sure people saw you as a driver first. Not just a name… and not just because you’re a girl.”

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. They got it. They really, truly got it.

Ollie’s gaze lingered on my face for a moment longer before something seemed to click. His eyes widened slightly. “Wait a second…” He squinted, like he was trying to place a distant memory. Then, his jaw dropped. “No way.”

Kimi’s brows furrowed before realization dawned over him too. His expression softened in understanding. “Holy shit. You’re—” He hesitated, almost like he didn’t want to say it out loud. “You’re Jack’s little sister, aren’t you?”

A sharp breath left me at the sound of my brother’s name.

I nodded slowly.

Ollie let out a breathless laugh, running a hand through his hair as the memories seemed to come rushing back to him. “I knew you looked familiar! You were at a race a few years back, weren’t you? I remember Jack talking about his sister being in the paddock for a weekend, but you were—” He gestured vaguely. “You looked different then. You weren’t…”

“Disguised?” I offered with a small, wry smile.

He let out a chuckle. “Yeah. Exactly.”

Kimi exhaled, shaking his head as a small, amused smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “This explains so much.”

Ollie looked at me, his expression shifting from disbelief to something softer. “Why didn’t you just race under your real name?”

I hesitated, my fingers curling into my hoodie sleeves. “Besides the problems with my parents, I didn’t want to be just ‘Jack’s little sister.’ I wanted to make it here on my own. No expectations, no assumptions—just me, proving that I deserved to be here.”

Kimi nodded in understanding, his eyes holding something that looked like respect. “And you did.”

Ollie grinned, nudging me lightly. “Yeah, you really did. And honestly? This makes you even more of a legend.”

That hit deep. I let out a slow breath, my nerves still there but quieter now, replaced by something warmer.

Kimi’s smile softened. “We’ve got your back, okay? No one’s finding out from us.”

Ollie nodded. “Yeah. No matter what, we’ve got you.”

Relief crashed over me in waves, so intense I almost felt dizzy from it. For the first time in a long time, I chose to tell someone my truth. And I had chosen right.

—

The weekend’s sessions had been utterly brutal. The relentless Qatar heat wasn’t just uncomfortable—it was suffocating. It clung to my suit, turned every breath inside my helmet thick and stifling, made every movement feel sluggish. Sweat dripped down my back, pooling beneath layers of fireproofs, but I couldn’t do anything about it. I couldn't peel the suit away between runs like the others did. I couldn’t press an ice pack to my neck, couldn’t dump water over my head to cool down.

I couldn’t even drink properly.

Every other driver could remove their helmets, take a quick sip from their bottles between debriefs, but I had to wait until I was alone in my driver’s room. The few stolen moments between sessions were the only times I could rip off my helmet, gulp down as much water as I could manage, and try to regulate my breathing before I had to suit back up again.

And qualifying was proving just how much that was wearing me down.

I gritted my teeth, forcing my trembling hands to stay steady on the wheel as I threw the car into the next corner. My arms ached from the relentless force pressing against them, my gloves were damp from sweat, and the heat inside my helmet made my head pound.

But I didn’t lift.

I couldn’t.

This was my last chance. One more lap to break into Q3. One more lap to prove I could push through.

I kept my foot down, forcing the car to its limits, wringing every ounce of performance I could from the tires. But as I rounded the final turn, the rear snapped—just a fraction, but enough to jolt my exhausted system.

I corrected it instantly, instinct taking over before my brain even had time to register the mistake. But the damage was done.

A few milliseconds lost.

Milliseconds that could mean the difference between moving forward or falling short.

I held my breath as I crossed the line, waiting—praying.

Then the radio crackled to life.

“Good job, Ghost.” Diego’s voice was steady, but I could hear the tightness behind it. “You just made it into Q3. Sitting P10 right now.”

Relief crashed into me, but it was quickly smothered by exhaustion.

“You’re not alone up there,” Diego continued. “Franco’s through too—P8. We’re happy with this, but let’s see if we can get something better out of you.”

I swallowed, my throat dry as sandpaper.

They wanted more from me.

They always wanted more.

And normally, I would have fought for it. Normally, I would have dug deeper, found something extra to give.

But right now?

Right now, I wasn’t sure if I had anything left.

My fingers twitched against the wheel, muscles trembling from heat exhaustion. I could feel the sweat pooling beneath my suit, soaking into the balaclava under my helmet. Every breath inside the confined space of my visor felt too warm, too thick, like I was breathing in steam.

I needed water. I needed air. I needed to be out of this damn suit for more than just a few stolen minutes between sessions.

But there was no time for that.

Not yet.

I forced myself to key the radio, my voice rougher than usual. “Understood.” My throat burned from dehydration, but I ignored it. “Let’s go again.”

There was a pause. A small one.

Then Diego’s voice returned, softer this time.

“Copy that. You got this, Ghost.”

I exhaled sharply, rolling out of the pit lane for the next run.

I had to.

—

By the time I pulled into the pit box, my body was on the verge of betraying me completely. The heat had wrung every ounce of strength from my limbs, leaving me trapped in my own skin, suffocating inside my race suit. The weight of exhaustion pressed down like a physical force, making my grip on the wheel feel distant, almost nonexistent. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking, even as I tried to flex my fingers in my lap. My chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths, the stale, burning air inside my helmet making it impossible to get enough oxygen.

As the pit crew jacked up my car and rolled me back into my side of the garage, I let my head fall back against the seat for just a moment, forcing myself to blink away the dizziness creeping in around the edges of my vision. The helmet felt like a furnace, trapping the heat against my skin, suffocating me with my own exhaustion.

I turned my head slightly, vision swimming, and caught sight of Franco already out of his car. His face was drenched in sweat, but he still had that easy, confident smile as he laughed with his engineers. How? He had been in the same conditions, pushing just as hard, and yet he looked… fine.

Then his eyes landed on me.

His grin widened as he raised a hand in a wave, but the second I lifted mine in return, his smile disappeared. His brows drew together, the concern sharp and immediate.

I knew exactly what he had seen.

The way my hand trembled violently, the sluggishness of my movements, the way my shoulders sagged like the weight of my own body was too much to carry.

Before I even attempted to move, Franco was already striding toward me, his playful demeanor completely gone. He reached the side of my car in seconds, one hand braced against the halo as he leaned in slightly, scanning my posture beneath the helmet.

"Hey," he said, voice quieter, serious in a way that sent a fresh wave of panic rolling through me. "You good?"

I forced myself to nod, even as my head swam. Say something. Don’t look weak.

But the moment I shifted, trying to push myself up, my body collapsed against the seat, arms going weak and useless.

"Shit—"

I barely had time to register Franco moving before his hands were on me, steadying me before I could even attempt another escape. His grip was firm but careful, as if he knew how close I was to completely shutting down.

"Oi, Nico!" Franco called over his shoulder, urgency lacing his voice. "Need a hand here!"

Footsteps rushed closer, and then Nico’s familiar presence was beside us, his voice calm but sharp. “What happened?”

“She’s overheating,” Franco answered before I could.

I wanted to protest, to tell them both to back off, but I didn’t have the energy.

“Come on,” Nico said, his arm sliding under mine as he and Franco braced me between them. “We need to get her cooled off before she passes out.”

Their help was the only thing keeping me on my feet as they guided me toward the drivers' room, my legs barely responding beneath me. Every step felt sluggish, like walking through molasses.

Inside, the temperature difference was immediate, the air conditioning hitting my suit like a wave of relief, but it wasn’t enough. I was still burning up, my skin damp with sweat beneath the layers of fireproof gear.

"Helmet," Franco said, tapping the sides. "You need to get it off."

I lifted shaky hands, fumbling with the latch, but my fingers wouldn’t cooperate. Before I could even try again, Franco was already reaching for it, carefully undoing it for me.

As soon as the helmet came off, cooler air rushed against my flushed skin, and I gasped like I had been drowning.

“Here.” Nico pressed a cold water bottle into my hands, his expression unreadable but firm. “Drink. But go slow.”

I brought the bottle to my lips, the plastic slick in my shaking grasp, and took a sip. It felt like heaven against my parched throat, but even with the relief, my voice still came out hoarse.

"Thanks."

Franco crouched in front of me, his green-brown eyes searching my face for something, his usual teasing smirk nowhere to be found. "You shouldn’t have pushed that hard."

I shot him a weak glare. "Like you didn’t?"

He exhaled sharply through his nose, clearly not amused.

Before he could fire back, a knock sounded from the door followed by the nervous voice of some team staff.

“They need you both for post-qualifying media duties.”

Franco turned so fast I thought he might break something. “Are you kidding me? We just got out of the cars, and it’s boiling out there. We are barely upright right now.”

The team member sighed. “I know. I tried to push it back, but the media’s already set up. It’s non-negotiable.”

I closed my eyes for a brief second, letting out a slow breath. I wanted to be angry, to fight back, but I knew it wouldn’t change anything.

“It’s fine,” I muttered, pushing myself upright again. My legs wobbled dangerously, but I locked them in place. “Let’s just get it over with.”

Franco muttered something in Spanish under his breath, the irritation rolling off of him in waves.

Nico moved fast, reaching into a cooler before handing me something. “Here. Wear this over your suit.”

I glanced down at the ice vest in my hands, then back up at him, gratitude flashing through my exhaustion.

"Thanks," I murmured, slipping it on. The moment the cold pressed against my back and chest, my whole body sagged in relief. Even though the sweaty suit felt disgusting, the cold seeping in from this vest made it so much more worth it. Finally I pulled my helmet back on and followed Franco out the door. 

Franco was still grumbling under his breath as we made our way toward the press area, but as I adjusted my helmet again, I could feel his gaze burning into me. I knew I must still look exhausted and he had every right to be worried for me, but right now we had our media duties and neither of us got paid enough to take the fine that would come with even one of us skipping them. 

The moment I stepped into the media pen, the lights, cameras, and voices crashed over me like a tidal wave. My head throbbed from the heat and exhaustion, my limbs screaming for rest, but I forced my body to move forward, to stand tall, to act like I wasn’t breaking apart from the inside out.

The ice vest on my race suit helped, but only just. The cold was already fading, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the heat pressing down on all of us. My hands still shook at my sides, fingers twitching involuntarily, and I could feel the weakness in my legs with every step I took. But I had to push through. No cracks. No hesitation. No weakness.

The media swarmed the second they saw me. Microphones were shoved toward my helmet, journalists calling out my name—well, my alias.

"Ghost, a tough session today—"

"How was the car handling in these conditions?"

"With such brutal temperatures, how are you holding up physically?"

I kept my shoulders squared, forcing my voice to stay even. "It was tough out there, but the team did a great job preparing the car. The conditions were brutal for everyone, but we managed to get through."

I hated how flat my voice sounded. The voice changer masked everything—my exhaustion, my struggle, my pain—but my body couldn’t lie. My stance wasn’t as steady as it should have been. My weight shifted slightly, trying to counteract the wobble in my knees. I flexed my fingers at my sides, willing the tremors away.

The next journalist didn’t even bother with a question about my performance. Instead, their voice came with a sharper edge. "Ghost, we’ve noticed you’re looking a little unsteady—"

"I'm fine," I cut in, too quickly, too defensive.

A scoff came from beside me, and I didn’t need to turn my head to know who it was.

"Fine?" Max’s voice carried over the media, sharp and laced with irritation. "They can barely stand, and you all are still shoving microphones in their face. Maybe wait until they’ve had a chance to recover before making them answer pointless questions."

I swallowed, the warmth in my chest battling the exhaustion. Max was blunt as ever, but I appreciated him for it.

The journalists, of course, didn't back down. "Max, the FIA mandates post-qualifying media duties—"

"Yeah?" Charles cut in now, his voice tight with frustration. "Maybe the FIA should use their eyes and see that some of us can barely speak, let alone stand, before throwing us in front of cameras. Look at him. This isn’t normal."

I gritted my teeth, willing my body to stay still, to not give anything away. I had survived worse. I could do this.

A hand brushed against my arm—subtle but intentional. Lewis.

He didn’t say anything to the media, but his voice was low enough for only me to hear. "You don’t have to prove anything to them. Just get through it. We’ve got you."

The kindness in his tone almost shattered the wall I was desperately holding up.

But the media wasn't done.

"Ghost, how do you respond to Max and Charles’ concerns? Are you struggling more than you’re letting on?"

I inhaled slowly, steadying myself before answering. "It’s a tough race weekend for everyone. The conditions are harsh, but that’s part of the sport."

Another journalist jumped in. "There were moments on track where you seemed to be fighting the car more than usual. Was that just the heat, or were there issues with the setup?"

I exhaled slowly. "The setup is strong. The conditions make everything harder to manage, but we’re still in a good place for the race."

The questions kept coming, and I kept answering, pushing through the nausea creeping at the edges of my mind. My hands were clenched into fists now, not out of anger but in a desperate attempt to stop the shaking. My legs felt like they could give out at any second, but I locked my knees, refusing to let them see me stumble.

"Ghost, you’re one of the only drivers still giving full interviews right now, while others have already left due to the heat. Do you feel obligated to stay?"

That one made my breath hitch.

Before I could even formulate an answer, Franco’s voice cut in from a few feet away, his tone dripping with frustration. "Maybe instead of asking him that, you should be asking why the hell he is still expected to be standing here answering your questions when he clearly needs a break."

I heard Lando mutter something under his breath before stepping in too. "We all get that media duties are part of the job, but seriously, look at him. We’re dropping like flies out here, and Ghost can barely stand. Let him go."

For a moment, the journalists hesitated. Maybe they had finally realized how bad I must have looked. Maybe they saw the way I kept shifting my weight, the way my breaths were coming just a little too shallow, the way my hands wouldn’t stay still.

The team member who had escorted me here finally stepped in, clearing his throat. "That’s all for Ghost today. He needs to recover before tomorrow."

I didn’t wait for the journalists to argue. I gave a short nod, mumbled a quick, "Thank you," and turned to leave, moving slower than I wanted to, but fast enough that no one could stop me.

As soon as I stepped away from the cameras, away from the eyes burning into me, my entire body slumped. The adrenaline that had been keeping me upright drained in an instant.

Franco was there in seconds, steadying me with a firm hand on my back. "That was fucking ridiculous."

I couldn’t even respond. My head was pounding too much, my muscles aching too deeply.

Lando and Oscar caught up to us, both looking equally pissed.

"You should’ve just walked away the second you got out there," Oscar muttered, shaking his head. "They would’ve figured it out eventually."

I let out a weak laugh. "Would they, though?"

Lando huffed. "Next time, we’re dragging you out before they even get the chance."

I was too tired to argue.

Lewis appeared beside me, pressing another ice pack into my hands. "Here. This’ll help."

I took it without question, pressing it against my neck. The relief was instant but not nearly enough. Lewis smiled at me with a nod before quietly walking away. 

Max crossed his arms, still glaring toward the media pen. "If the FIA doesn’t do something about this, I will."

I shook my head slightly. "You can’t—"

"Watch me."

I sighed, but deep down, I was grateful.

—

The cold water from earlier had long since lost its effect, leaving only a dull, lingering coolness that did nothing to combat the growing weight pressing down on me.

I sat on the edge of my bed in my drivers’ room, fully suited up, my helmet resting beside me as I finished the last bottle of water I could stomach. Every sip felt like a lifeline, a desperate attempt to build a reserve before the inevitable heat drained it all away. Today was hotter than any session before, and I knew—we all knew—this race would be a battle of survival just as much as it would be a battle for position.

I exhaled slowly, rolling my shoulders back, trying to focus my mind. You’ve done this before. You can do it again. You just have to push through.

My fingers curled into fists against my thighs before I finally grabbed my helmet, slipping it on and locking myself in. This was it. No turning back now.

I pushed open the door and stepped out into the chaos of the garage.

—

The first laps of the race were smooth. I focused on keeping the tires in check, my pace steady, not taking unnecessary risks. The heat was already settling in, pressing against me like a second race suit, but I’d prepared for this.

Then, somewhere around the middle of the race, I hit the water button for the fifth time.

The familiar small tube inside my helmet released a shot of liquid into my mouth. The moment it touched my tongue, I gagged. It wasn’t cool anymore. It wasn’t even lukewarm. It was hot.

I spat it out instinctively, the taste bitter and almost nauseating.

"Water’s boiling," I muttered into the radio, shifting my focus back to the track.

Diego’s voice came through, calm but firm. "Copy, Ghost. Just do what you can. We’ll monitor your vitals."

I clenched my jaw. I already knew what that meant. They were watching my performance, my inputs, my pace. They’d pull me if they thought I was fading.

I wasn’t going to let that happen.

Laps blurred together. My mouth was dry, my throat raw from the heat. My hands were slippery inside my gloves, and every breath felt heavier than the last. I had stopped sweating at some point—not because the heat had lessened, but because my body had nothing left to give.

"Ghost, you need to think about retiring," Diego’s voice came through again, a little more insistent now. "We can see the drop-off. It’s okay."

I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me. "No. I can finish."

Even if I had to drag myself to the checkered flag.

"Ghost—"

"Who’s out?" I cut him off, forcing the words out through gritted teeth.

There was a pause before he answered. "Doohan, Lawson, and Stroll. They’ve all retired due to the heat."

I exhaled sharply. That could’ve been me. It still could be me.

But I wasn’t done. I wasn’t finished.

I tightened my grip on the wheel, ignoring the way my vision was beginning to blur at the edges.

"Not yet," I murmured.

Then I pressed forward.

—

The moment I stopped, my body betrayed me.

I had done it—I finished the race in P6. Franco had taken P5. But there was no relief, no triumph. Only the crushing weight of exhaustion bearing down on me like a collapsing ceiling.

As I pulled into Parc Fermé, the heat that had been suffocating me all race now pressed into my skull like a vice. My vision blurred as I tried to breathe through the nausea clawing at my throat. My arms felt detached, as if they were no longer mine to command. The entire world had narrowed down to a pounding in my head and the tremors that I could no longer ignore.

This is bad. This is really bad.

I fumbled with the steering wheel, fingers trembling too hard to properly unclip it. I finally managed to yank it off, dropping it onto the nose as I reached for the halo, trying to pull myself up. My muscles screamed, burning with a fire that wasn’t just exertion—this was something worse.

My foot barely found purchase as I tried to climb out, and the second I attempted to push myself up, my strength gave out. My body slumped forward, upper torso flopping limply over the halo, my arms barely holding me up as my head hung between them. My breath came in sharp, rapid bursts, my lungs fighting against the stifling heat trapped inside my race suit.

I wasn’t just exhausted. I was failing.

Panic twisted deep in my chest, feeding into the violent shudders racking my body. My helmet felt suffocating, my suit like a second layer of burning skin. I was shaking uncontrollably, my fingers barely gripping onto the car to keep me from collapsing completely. My heart slammed against my ribs, too fast, too much—

"Breathe—breathe—" I gasped to myself, but I couldn’t.

I barely registered the footsteps rushing toward me until two familiar voices called out—

"Whoa, whoa, hey—"

"Shit—Ghost! Are you okay?!"

Ollie and Kimi.

I felt hands on me—strong, steady hands. One of them gripped my waist while the other reached for my arms, carefully but urgently trying to pull me the rest of the way out of the car. My legs buckled the second my weight shifted, but they caught me before I could hit the ground.

"She’s burning up," Ollie cursed, adjusting his hold as he and Kimi fully hoisted me up between them.

The movement made the nausea spike—the world tilted violently, a wave of dizziness crashing into me like a tidal force. I groaned softly, my head rolling against Kimi’s shoulder. The tremors in my body worsened. My knees refused to hold me, leaving all of my weight pressed into them.

"We need to get him out of here—now," Kimi said, voice tight with concern.

"Franco—" Ollie called over his shoulder, but Franco was already moving.

I barely tracked his blurred figure before he turned and sprinted towards the garage. I heard his frantic voice shouting something about Nico, ice, water, bath—but it all faded into static.

Another set of hands found me—Oscar.

"Come on, let’s get him back—" he said, already helping them move.

I didn’t have the strength to respond, to fight back against the way my vision kept fading in and out.

The three of them half-carried, half-dragged me up the pit lane. My body swayed uselessly, my legs numb beneath me, my head lolling forward and back.

I barely registered Lando’s voice until I heard his sharp inhale—

"What the hell—? Hey—what’s wrong with him?"

The shuffle of hurried steps.

Max’s voice.

"Move—what happened? What’s going on?!"

Their voices were frantic, but I couldn’t focus.

The only thing I could do was press my head against Kimi’s shoulder, my body burning and trembling and fading, fading—

The last thing I felt before my mind slipped further into the haze was the grip of their hands tightening around me.

Holding me up. Keeping me safe.

—

The cold hit me like a freight train.

A sharp, biting shock that sent a jolt through my entire body, dragging me out of the suffocating haze of unconsciousness. My skin burned from the contrast—heat still radiating off me, clashing violently against the icy water.

I groaned, head lolling to the side as I tried to blink my vision clear.

"Hey—hey, she’s waking up."

The voice was Franco’s, tight with concern.

My sluggish mind took a moment to catch up—to register that I wasn’t in the car anymore, that my helmet was gone, my race suit stripped away. I was submerged up to my chest in ice water, wearing only the thin layer of fireproofs that clung uncomfortably to my damp skin.

A firm but careful grip pressed against my shoulders—Nico.

"Easy," he murmured, steady and grounding. "Just breathe, y/n. You need to stay in the bath a little longer."

Everything still felt wrong.

My limbs were too heavy, my lungs too tight, the room too cold yet my skin too hot. My body couldn’t decide whether it was freezing or burning, and the overwhelming confusion of it all sent my mind spiraling.

"W-What—" My voice cracked—raw, hoarse.

I winced at the sound, my throat aching like I had swallowed sandpaper.

"You overheated, bad," Kimi said, leaning closer. His face was creased with worry. "We had to get you in here fast. You passed out completely."

"You scared the hell out of us," Ollie added, his usual teasing lilt nowhere in his voice.

I swallowed thickly, eyes darting around the dimly lit drivers’ room, heart rate already climbing from the weight of their words.

I had pushed too far.

I had scared them.

I had failed.

The thought hit me like a slap to the face, and suddenly, the tightness in my chest worsened.

The trembling in my hands turned into violent shakes, my breath shuddering as something clawed its way up my throat—not nausea this time, but panic. Full-blown panic.

I felt trapped in my own body.

"No—no, no, no—" I barely gasped out, my breathing spiraling into sharp, erratic bursts.

The ice bath felt too deep.

The cold was too much.

The room was spinning—

"Shit, she’s panicking," Franco cursed, immediately shifting closer. "Hey—hey, look at me."

I couldn’t. I couldn’t. I was shaking too much, heart slamming against my ribs, my vision swimming as every exhausted nerve in my body screamed at once.

Nico held me firm.

His grip on my shoulders tightened just enough to keep me grounded, his voice level as he spoke—"Breathe, kid. Don’t fight it. Just let it pass."

"You’re safe, y/n," Ollie’s voice cut through the haze, softer now. "We’re right here. You’re okay."

"You’re not alone," Kimi added, his usual stoicism cracking just enough for me to hear the genuine concern beneath it.

I squeezed my eyes shut, struggling to pull myself out of the panic’s grip.

Just breathe.

I sucked in a shaky breath. Then another. And another.

Slowly, painfully, the tightness in my chest loosened, the suffocating weight on my ribs easing—not gone, but manageable.

When I finally blinked my eyes open again, tears had slipped down my flushed cheeks, mixing with the cold water clinging to my skin.

I sniffled, embarrassed, trying to shake it off—

But Ollie just huffed a quiet laugh and reached out, gently brushing the pads of his fingers beneath my eyes to wipe them away.

"You look awful," he teased lightly, though the relief in his voice was obvious. "But at least you’re back with us."

I let out a weak breath—something close to a laugh, but more of a tired exhale.

"Thanks, Ollie."

"Anytime, y/n."

There was a beat of silence before Franco sighed, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair.

"We gotta go, though. Cooldown debriefs and all."

I nodded, though I still felt too weak to fully sit up on my own.

Kimi, Ollie, and Franco hesitated before leaving, their gazes lingering on me, as if making sure I wouldn’t crumble the second they walked out the door.

"Go," I rasped, offering a small nod. "I’ll be fine."

It took another beat, but eventually, they filed out, leaving only Nico behind.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just sat on the stool beside the tub, watching me carefully as I tried to even out my breath.

Then—quietly—he handed me a bottle of water.

"Drink, kid."

I did.

—

The walk to media duties felt longer than usual.

My body was still aching, my skin still hot despite the ice bath, but at least I could move without my legs threatening to give out beneath me. The hoodie and sweats Nico had given me felt heavy, but they helped me still hide my feminine figure without having to put my race suit back on.

Helmet back on. Voice changer activated. Persona intact.

I was Ghost again.

Not the girl who had almost collapsed from heat exhaustion. Not the one who had panicked in the ice bath.

Just Ghost.

I had just rounded the corner when I nearly crashed into someone.

"Whoa—"

I barely had time to process before I felt a firm hand grip my shoulder, steadying me.

"Are you even okay to be walking around?"

Oscar.

I lifted my head slightly, immediately greeted by the sight of Oscar, Max, and Lando, all three of them looking me over like I might drop at any second.

Oscar’s expression was tight with concern, his eyes scanning me as if searching for any sign of weakness beneath the hoodie and sweats.

Max and Lando, on the other hand—they just looked pissed.

"Ghost, what the hell were you thinking?" Lando’s voice was sharper than usual, his usual playfulness nowhere to be found.

"You could have passed out behind the wheel!" Max snapped, arms crossing over his chest.

"You’re lucky you even made it to the end without crashing," Lando added, eyes narrowing.

I sighed, already feeling the exhaustion creep back in. "Guys, I finished the race. I’m fine."

"Fine?" Max echoed, his voice dripping with disbelief. "You couldn’t even get out of your damn car! You had to be carried to your garage!"

"We saw you, mate," Lando said, shaking his head. "You scared the shit out of us."

Oscar, who had been quiet up until now, finally spoke—his voice softer, but no less firm.

"You should’ve retired, Ghost."

I clenched my jaw beneath my helmet, fingers curling into fists at my sides.

They didn’t get it.

I had something to prove.

After everything—after spending the entire season fighting for my place, for my right to be here, for my strength—I couldn’t just quit.

Not when I was still standing.

"I couldn’t," I muttered, my voice low.

Max let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. "You’re a damn idiot."

Lando scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, no kidding. You think you’re proving a point by pushing through this kind of shit? You’re just proving you have no self-preservation instincts."

"Lando—" Oscar started, but the Brit just kept going.

"Seriously, mate, what’s the point of all this secrecy, the helmet, the voice changer, if you’re just gonna race yourself into the damn grave?"

My chest tightened.

They didn’t understand.

"I finished the race," I said again, my voice stronger this time.

Max let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, and nearly fucking died doing it."

There was a beat of silence.

I didn’t know what to say.

Because deep down, I knew they were right.

I had been stupid. I had risked everything.

But at the same time—I couldn’t regret it.

"I had to," I finally whispered.

Oscar sighed, rubbing his temples. "You didn’t have to. You just thought you did."

Max took a step closer, his voice lower now. "Don’t do that again."

"Max—"

"I mean it, Ghost." His eyes burned into mine through the visor of my helmet. "Don’t pull that shit again."

Lando exhaled, shaking his head. "If you ever scare us like that again, I swear to god—"

"What? You'll do what?" I challenged, tilting my head.

"We’ll fucking drag you out of the car ourselves next time," Lando shot back, dead serious.

I stared at them for a long moment before exhaling quietly.

"Noted."

Oscar sighed again, rubbing the back of his neck. "Just… promise you’ll take it easy for the rest of the day."

I hesitated—then gave a small nod.

"Fine."

Max and Lando exchanged a look, clearly not satisfied, but knowing they wouldn’t get much more out of me.

"Good," Max muttered. "Now go do those stupid media duties before we get in trouble for holding you up."

I let out a breath, turning toward the media pen.

I could still feel their eyes on me as I walked away.

—

The questions had been relentless since the moment I stepped into the media pen.

I had answered what felt like a hundred different versions of "How are you feeling?" and "Was the heat the toughest challenge today?" while keeping my voice steady, my responses measured.

I could still feel the weight of Max, Lando, and Oscar’s words from earlier pressing against my chest.

"You think you’re proving a point by pushing through this kind of shit?"

"You just thought you had to."

"Don’t pull that shit again."

I had brushed them off, insisted I was fine, but deep down, the doubt had already started to sink in.

And then—I heard Jack’s name.

"Jack, do you think Ghost finishing the race today proves that you gave up too soon?"

My stomach twisted.

I turned my head slightly, listening as Jack’s tone sharpened in response.

"You think I wanted to retire?" His voice was laced with frustration, the exhaustion from the race still evident. "I had no choice. I was on the verge of passing out in the car—what the hell was I supposed to do? Just push through it like an idiot?"

The reporters kept pushing, eager to stoke the flames.

"Well, Ghost did."

That set him off.

"Yeah, and look at them! Couldn’t even get out of the car! You think that’s smart? You think that’s proving a point? That’s just reckless."

My chest tightened.

They had gotten to him.

I knew what they were doing—trying to manufacture a rivalry, to paint one of us as weaker, the other as stronger, to get some headline-worthy soundbite out of him.

And Jack—he was giving them exactly what they wanted.

"Do you regret your decision now that you see what Ghost was capable of?"

Jack let out a harsh, bitter laugh. "Capable of? They nearly collapsed. That’s not capability—that’s stupidity. If anything, I feel bad for them."

I didn’t have time to process the sting in his words before I was being called up for my own interview.

The second I stepped forward, I could already see the smirks on the reporters’ faces.

They were waiting. Waiting for me to bite.

"Ghost, we just spoke with Jack, and he had some strong words about your decision to finish the race today—"

"Jack said you were reckless—"

"He implied he felt bad for you—"

"Do you have anything to say in response?"

I could feel the heat behind my visor—not from the temperature, but from the frustration simmering in my chest.

I could shut Jack down. I could bite back.

But that’s what they wanted.

Instead, I exhaled slowly, forcing my voice to stay calm as I answered.

"I don’t blame Jack for anything he said," I started, my tone even. "But I think the real problem is how often these kinds of comparisons are made in the first place."

The interviewer blinked, caught off guard.

I continued.

"Jack did the right thing today. He recognized his limits. He chose to put his health first. That takes strength. That takes intelligence. He made the smart call—something I wasn’t able to do."

A few reporters shifted uncomfortably at my words.

"I let my ego get in the way," I admitted, my fingers curling into the sleeves of my hoodie. "I finished the race, sure. But at what cost? I put myself at risk. I let myself believe that stopping would be a weakness, not to myself, but to the public, to you. But looking back… I think Jack was stronger than me today."

A beat of silence.

The interviewers weren’t expecting this.

They wanted drama. Fuel for a rivalry.

Instead, I had taken the wind out of their sails.

"So no, I don’t have anything to say against Jack. What I do have a problem with is the way we push drivers to view each other as competition in moments like this—when really, we should be focusing on the bigger picture. None of us should have been racing in these conditions. And Jack made the right call."

The interviewers exchanged glances, realizing they weren’t going to get what they wanted out of me.

I just stood there, breathing steadily, finally understanding what Max, Lando, and Oscar had been so pissed about earlier.

I had been an idiot. And for the first time, I was willing to admit it.

Taglist: @widow-cevans @honethatty12 @wierdflowerpower @imlonelydontsendhelp @thatsnotaddy @freyathehuntress @angelluv16

[merafanbrainthatmerafans]

MHA x reader (period)

If y/n was on her period what would MHA boys do? (I know a lot of people did this one so you don't have to read this)

𝘾𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙨 1-𝘼 𝙓 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝙄𝙯𝙪𝙠𝙪 𝙈𝙞𝙙𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙮𝙖 🌱

Researches everything. As soon as you say you’re on your period, he’s Googling symptoms, home remedies, and best pain relief methods.

“D-Does it hurt a lot? Is there anything I can do?” (he’s so worried 😭)

Buys the entire snack aisle. You said you wanted chocolate? Well, now you have five different kinds.

Heat packs? Painkillers? Cuddles? You name it, he’s getting it.

𝘽𝙖𝙠𝙪𝙜𝙤 𝙆𝙖𝙩𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙞 🔥

Pretends he doesn’t care but actually does everything perfectly.

“Tch. Sit down, dumbass. I’ll cook somethin’.” And suddenly, you have a five-star meal.

If you’re in pain, he’ll pull you onto his lap and rub your stomach (but don’t call him soft, or he’ll explode).

“Tell me what you need, ‘cause I’m not lettin’ you sit here miserable.” (Secretly worried but won’t say it.)

𝙎𝙝𝙤𝙩𝙤 𝙏𝙤𝙙𝙤𝙧𝙤𝙠𝙞 ❄️🔥

His left side is the perfect heating pad. If you’re cramping, he just lets you lay on his warm side and relaxes his body temperature to keep you comfortable.

“Is there anything else I can do?” (so polite and serious 🥺)

Brings you tea, painkillers, and a blanket before you even ask.

Doesn’t judge at all if you cry randomly—just wipes your tears away and holds you close.

𝙀𝙞𝙟𝙞𝙧𝙤 𝙆𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙢𝙖 🦈

Super caring but also a little clueless. “Wait, do periods really hurt that much? Damn, you’re so strong!!”

Tucks you into a blanket cocoon and refuses to let you do anything.

Buys you snacks, but gets confused. “Uh… I got chocolate, chips, and… pickles? I dunno what cravings are like.” 😭

If you’re moody, he just hugs you through it.

𝘿𝙚𝙣𝙠𝙞 𝙆𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙧𝙞 ⚡

Panics at first. “Wait, you’re bleeding?! Should we go to Recovery Girl?!” (he has no idea how periods work 💀)

Wants to be helpful but is kind of useless. “Uh… do you want… a charger? A blanket? Me?”

Will 100% let you nap on him. Falls asleep with you.

Tries to make you laugh when you’re moody: “If I make you smile, does that mean I win against the period?”

𝙏𝙚𝙣𝙮𝙖 𝙄𝙞𝙙𝙖 🚗💨

The most organized caregiver. “I have researched proper period care! Here is a heat pack, water, and pain medication.”

Will time your medicine so you never miss a dose.

“I shall fetch you anything you need!” (Goes full ‘class rep mode’ and literally sprints to the store.)

Talks to you in a calm voice if you’re emotional. “It’s okay. Let it out.”

𝙋𝙧𝙤 𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙓 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝙃𝙖𝙬𝙠𝙨 (𝙆𝙚𝙞𝙜𝙤 𝙏𝙖𝙠𝙖𝙢𝙞) 🦅

So smug about taking care of you. “Lucky for you, angel, I’m the best personal heater you could ask for.”

Wraps you in his wings like a giant, soft blanket.

Brings snacks, a heating pad, and a fluffy hoodie in one trip. “I got you covered, babe.”

If you get snappy, he just teases you. “Damn, is the period talking, or do you just hate me?”

𝙀𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙤𝙧 (𝙀𝙣𝙟𝙞 𝙏𝙤𝙙𝙤𝙧𝙤𝙠𝙞) 🔥

Confused but surprisingly helpful.

“I don’t know how to deal with this.” …but still buys you everything you need.

His body heat is a natural heating pad. He won’t say anything, but if you curl up next to him, he lets you.

Sits in silence with you. He’s not great with emotions, but he’ll stay by your side.

𝘼𝙞𝙯𝙖𝙬𝙖 𝙎𝙝𝙤𝙩𝙖 💤

The ultimate period support. He literally does not care if you spend all day napping on him.

“Tired? We’re sleeping. Cramps? Lay on me.” (He’s got you covered.)

Steals medical supplies from U.A. Just casually hands you painkillers and a heating pad like it’s no big deal.

Zero judgment. You wanna cry over nothing? He’ll just pull you into a hug and let you.

𝙈𝙞𝙧𝙠𝙤 (𝙍𝙪𝙢𝙞 𝙐𝙨𝙖𝙜𝙮𝙖) 🐰

Acts tough but secretly worries. “C’mon, babe, you’re tougher than some stupid period!”

But also gets you all your favorite snacks. Won’t admit she went out of her way to buy them, though.

If you’re in pain, she lets you rest on her lap and runs her fingers through your hair.

“If your cramps try to kill you, I’ll fight ‘em.” (she’s serious 💀)

𝘽𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙅𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙩 👖

Super composed about it. “Ah, I see. A natural occurrence, nothing to be ashamed of.”

Buys you high-quality, comfortable clothes to wear during your period.

If you stain anything, he gets rid of it instantly. No judgment, just “I’ve taken care of it.”

“A well-dressed individual deserves comfort in all aspects of life.” (he’s surprisingly sweet 🥺)

[chaosartic]

Throw away the caution! Part 2 | LN4

word count: roughly 2k

warning: shitty writing, confusing, pinning, mention of alcohol, drinking and getting tipsy/drunk

summary: Lando (annoyingly) has a crush on non other than his best friends younger sister, Y/n Fewtrell. It was his well kept secret. Why? Because he knows how overprotective Max is of you. What happens when Carlos and Oscar find out about it? Will a drunken night out celebrating a race weekend change their relationship?

a/n: I’m so so sorry for the long wait but here it is, the second part! Please still ignore the terrible writing I’m still exploring with my style and such. Check out part one here!

The paddock is already bustling with energy when you and Max walked in. The journalists are trying to get some last minute shots and stories out of everyone. You wouldn’t say that you’re used to cameras being pointed at you or being quizzed by the media. But then again it didn’t surprise you that much when it happened. When Lando joined Formula One some attention also turned to his best friend whenever he was around. And since you normally spend your time during the race weekend with Max, there are some media pictures of you as well.

You stopped a few times along the way to the McLaren garage to talk with some of the drivers that you both know. When you reached the garage, the first one you saw was Oscar. “Hi guys,” he greeted the both of you. “Lando is still in the back,” he mentioned while pointing in the general direction. After a short greeting Max was already on his way to Lando. You however stayed in the front not sure if Lando really wanted you in his driver’s room after all.

“Sooo how do you feel about today?” You ask Oscar. “Excited but nervous,” he admits. “Home races are always… well different with all the fans around. My family is here as well. We’ll see how it goes,” Oscar confesses, getting slightly red around his cheeks. The younger McLaren driver was a bit nervous. At that moment Carlos decided to step up to the two of you. “Morning Carlos,” you greet him. “How was Sydney?” You ask, having just recently seen the pictures of him and Alex there. “It was good. How about your flight? Heard you arrived yesterday,” he said curiously.

“Same old, still don’t like the long flights,” you mention, Carlos knowing from previous conversations about your hate towards long distance flights. “But I’m very happy to be here for the full three days for a change.” You quickly add, gaze drifting towards the garage to see if your brother or Lando were back in the front. “I’ll go and grab something to drink. Do you want anything?” You ask the drivers but both are shaking their heads, no.

Oscar turns towards Carlos as soon as you are out of hearing range. “Am I imagining this?” he asks the Spaniard, pointing towards where you just went and where Lando is. For a quick second Carlos was confused by the younger driver's question before it clicked. “Oh, that. I’m honestly surprised that you mentioned it. And I mean the feelings are there you know from his side at least.” he confesses quietly to the Aussie, his Spanish accent getting stronger the more he tries to keep his voice down. After all, the media didn't need to know about this. “When did Lando tell you?” he asks the Aussie. “He didn’t,” Oscar says. “We spent an evening together at Max’s place. You know just us four and I saw the way he looks at here.” He admits, “he also wouldn’t shut up about her during testing in Bahrain. From what I know they’ve been talking a lot.”

”You don’t happen to know how she feels?” Oscar asks. Both ignore everything that is happening around too caught up in the conversation. “No I don’t,” he says. “I mean we are not that close so I never ask her and she wasn’t around much recently because of her private life.” Carlos adds. Oscar nodes in complete understanding. It would be weird if they just randomly went up to her and asked her about that, or would it? “They would be cute together…” Oscar trails off mid sentence. “Si,” Carlos agrees. They didn’t need to say it out loud, both drivers were on the same page. Try to figure out if you feel the same towards Lando and hopefully, depending on your answer, get the two of you together.

When you came back from getting a drink Carlos and Oscar were gone. Probably busy with preparations. You did spot Max outside casually talking to some McLaren personnel. You look around hoping to spot Lando before the first practice session. But luck wasn’t on your side. When you didn’t see the driver a strange feeling of disappointment overcame you. You could ask your brother if he knows where Lando is. It is the first race weekend after the winter break. Pressure and expectations for the team but especially Lando are at an all time high after the constructors title. Also Lando was the one to invite the both of you to Melbourne. It wouldn’t be suspicious if you ask your brother. At least that’s what you hope. You didn’t need your brother knowing about this strange situation.

“Do you know where Lando is?” You ask your brother, “I want to wish him good luck before the practice session.” “Last time I saw him he was in the garage but I think he went somewhere.” He says a bit unsure, now looking around trying to see if he can spot his best friend. “Oh okay. Well, it’s no trouble. I’ll catch him later,” you dismiss it. The feeling of disappointment only grows within you. It was as if Lando heard his name being called. He suddenly pops up out of nowhere. ”Y/n I’m so happy to have you here,” he exclaimed happily with a bright smile on his face. You know that the smile wasn’t because of you. It couldn't be.

“Just wanted to wish you good luck out there.” You say quickly, giving the Brit a hug. His arms wrap tightly around you for a few seconds before he lets go. Oscar can see the whole scene from a slight distance. The plan he made with Carlos would probably sound more than stupid to anyone else. However Oscar saw your smile when Lando gave you a hug and the slightly disappointed look as soon as he left. You are definitely feeling something for Lando, he was sure of that. And hiding that wasn’t your strong suit.

You spent as much as you could during the whole weekend with Lando. If he wasn't around your brother was mostly there to keep you company. Oscar and Carlos seem to be around her the whole time as well, sometimes directly in conversations and other times in the background. You love spending time with the other drivers so you really didn’t mind them being around.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

He did it! Lando is the first winner of the 2025 season. The race was chaotic to say the least but it was good seeing your friend at the top of the podium. You couldn't be more proud of him. It was a bit after the race and you’re currently out with a few of the drivers at a local bar to celebrate the weekend. The night wouldn’t be too crazy, after all the Chinese GP is right around the corner.

You are sitting at one of the tables with some sort of cocktail in your hand. You're not exactly sure what was in it since it was a recommendation from one of the bartenders. No, you’re not drunk, nor was that the goal, but definitely a bit tipsy. Enough to loosen your tongue. Lando is sitting with you just idly chatting about whatever comes to mind.

”So y/n… can I ask you something a bit more personal?” Lando asks you. “Of course you can sillly,” you answer. “Well… it’s a bit weird but I heard Carlos talking to Oscar the other day about you uhm liking someone and I guess I just wonder who the lucky guy is..” he got out. He definitely had more to drink than you did and was already slipping into being drunk. Before he went out with you he was celebrating the win with this team.

You freeze for a second remembering a conversation you had with Carlos and Oscar on Saturday after qualifying. They came up to you and started asking questions about your relationship with Lando, not so subtly trying to get something out of you. Their goal, trying to see if you like the Brit. You didn’t really say anything to them, but your facial expression probably said more than a thousand words and told them exactly what they needed to know. It also wasn’t just a coincidence that Lando heard both of them talking about it. They planned it at the exact moment, hoping to steal some sort of reaction out of him so that one of you would finally carve in and confess their feelings.

You didn’t know what to say. What could you say to that? Sure you could be honest but that would very likely ruin everything. But you don't like lying, especially to those that are close to you. It was a complicated situation. “I… I honestly don’t know what… uhm what to say,” you stutter out a blush creeping up on your cheeks. Lando tilts his head to the side, eyes open wide and looking directly into yours. It was hard for you in this exact moment to read his body language.

“Is it one of the drivers?” he asks slowly. You just nod your head slightly still deep in your thoughts. Lando slowly and shyly took your hand that wasn’t holding the glass in his. His thumb was drawing small, smoothing circles. He took another long sip of his drink. “Can I confess something?” he asks, eyes still looking into yours but a deep reddish blush creeping up his neck. His words are slurred together with an accent thicker than before.

Yet again you nod your head, not wanting to speak too afraid to break the moment. “I- I like you y/n and I have for a while,” he mumbled almost inaudibly with the loud music. “I have for a while,” he added. For a moment you are speechless, not sure how to react. His grip on your hand loses trying to pull away. You could see the anxiety in his eyes slowly coming out through the drunken haze. “I like you too, Lando. Have for a while.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

I hope you enjoy it! Any feedback is appreciated!

Would you like a third part where Max finds out about there confession?

[funpoire]

Aceyuu art!

I don’t think the art is really good but I wanted to do some Aceyuu art lol. I guess i’m better with writing but it's ok. Btw this is my oc Yuusei.

Headcanon:

I like to think that Ace will be more open with his feelings with Yuu in book 8. I mean why would he hide his feelings after Yuu saw his dream and that he unlocked his signature spell because of them? I like to think he still be the teaser but also be more soft. He is more true to his feelings cause he knows Yuu will go home soon. Trying to have more private time with them, be more gentle, take care of them, etc…

my yuu wiki - more yuu content - adeuceyuu content - yuu relationship

pls follow me for more twst posts i post about every twst subject smile 🙂‍↕️. Sighhhhh chat i need to get more people to notice me on twst not cause i like fame but because i want to interact with some cool content creator. I swear i’m kind and sweet cherry on top and everything.

[cliophilyra]

Late Fuck It Friday or Early Some Sentences Sunday!

I don't think I've been tagged by anyone (apologies if I've missed one!) but I had something to post so 'ere 'tis 🥳 Managed to do 1090 words of NTYK today (thanks @makepeacelovejoy for doing sprints with me this afternoon!! 🩷) so here's a little bit! (Also just for clarity, Tommy doesn’t know who Bucks baby daddy is yet and Buck doesn’t know he knows Sal at all)

Buck wipes a piece of cold pancake through a pool of syrup and sighs as he pops it in his mouth. It may actually taste better than he remembers, he thinks, wondering if that’s a thing. Something is missing though. He looks around and realises Tommy has poured himself a coffee but hasn’t gotten him one. He gets up and grabs a mug, making to pour his own. Tommy looks up surprised. “Ah…should…?” He tails off awkwardly. Buck looks down at the pot. “What?” “Coffee…is that…ok for—” Buck raises an eyebrow and swipes Tommy’s mug, gulping down half of it. “If I am going to do this I will not be doing it un-caffeinated.” Tommy gives a small eye-roll and smiles the smile of a man who knows how to pick his battles.

They eat in companionable silence for a bit, Tommy drinking the second coffee he’d poured himself once it became apparent that Buck had annexed the first cup. Buck is most of the way through eating when he realises that this is the first morning in three weeks or so that he hasn’t felt like throwing up. Not yet at least, he thinks, absently knocking on the wooden seat. Maybe things are looking up. “Evan,” Tommy starts and something about his tone has Buck’s stomach jumping. Spoke too soon… “Hmm?” He says, trying to sound like he isn’t freaking out. “I was thinking,” he pauses, Buck panics. “The father…I know you said you didn’t want to tell him--” “Because I don’t,” Buck says sharply. Maybe a little more sharply than he’d meant. “I get that, I do. And it’s up to you in the end but…” Tommy tails off and looks up at the ceiling for a moment, sighing before he looks back at Buck. “I think…I think I’d want to know, y’know. If it was me.”

“But he’s not you Tommy,” Buck protests. He doesn’t want to be angry, he knows Tommy means well but he doesn’t want to get into this. He’s made his decision as far as Sal goes. “He’s not…I don’t know him. I don’t even know if he’s a good guy. Not really.” “You said he...seemed like a decent guy.” “He did! For the literal handful of hours that I knew him he seemed great. He was kind and funny and…and he seemed to really care. So I guess I got lucky there. But it was one night. For all I know he could’ve been a serial killer on a night off.” Tommy winces and doesn’t smile.

More snippets here

Tagging people for tomorrow (or today if you want!) @rdng1230 @racerchix21 @bangpop91 @nine-one-wanton @bidisasterevankinard

@peppermintquartz @leashybebes @firehose118 @dum-amo-vivo9 @gaybonesforivy

@paperyowl @pool-spidey @bucksbignaturals @trombonechurchill @sunnywithachanceofbi

[flowercrowngods]

just some stobin projection i had to get out of my system

cw: intrusive thoughts, suicidal ideation (linked to intrusive thoughts, discussed not in detail but bluntly) . still largely a hurt/comfort (but the comfort is having people to confide in, not solving the problem)

—————————————————————————

“You’re pretty quiet over there,” Steve tells the ceiling as he takes another hit. His head is growing heavier on the pillow, his body anchored to the bed so firmly and comfortably, he couldn’t move and look at Robin even if he tried.

But he doesn’t need to look at her, because the scenery is familiar. He’s starfishing on sheets that are so much softer than the ones he put on his own bed last week, the smell of laundry detergent so distinct and intense it wafts around him and mingles with the sweet-stale smell of the weed he’s smoking. It also smells a bit like Robin even though she’s all the way over there, sitting in the window; knees drawn to her chest so she can scribble and doodle on her new light-blue Chucks.

Three of his favourite things combined like this — Robin, getting high, and clean sheets — Steve feels pretty damn content.

It’s just that Robin is quiet. She’s been really quiet all day. Most of the week, even. Granted, quiet for Robin means something different than for most other people, but Steve is fluent in whatever language they’ve instated between them. Her rambles are more stilted, ending in the middle of a sentence and leading nowhere when usually she would explode if she left a thought unmentioned and a sentence unfinished. She chews on her lips instead of griping at people that annoy her, she seems stuck in her head in a way that can’t be solved by narrating her every worry, and most of all she talks slower. Almost in the pace of common people.

And now, sitting in the window of her favourite guest room in this abandoned palace that is his home, she’s actually silent. Not even singing along to Kim Wilde. Not even a hum.

Hence the question.

“Robbie? You okay?” More silence. “S going on?”

“Nothing, it’s… just very loud in my head.”

Steve hums, because this isn’t news to him and he knows that she knows that, too, so maybe there’s more to come. Or maybe not. Maybe this isn’t even the right moment to ask loaded questions.

“Does it ever get, like, super loud and super horrible in your head?”

Or maybe it is the moment, apparently. He rolls his head to the side to look at her. She looks kind of ethereal like that. The lights are out in his room, there’s only the glow of the joint and a little blue night light just beside Robin. Steve doesn’t even remember where that came from, but it’s always in here, always waiting for them.

It makes him smile despite her question.

“Kind of,” he says, his tongue weirdly heavy in his mouth now that he’s shifted his head, and he wants to roll back but he also wants to keep looking at Robin and their little blue light. It’s his favourite thing. His favourite person. Who’s talking again.

“I mean, not in the monster-fighting-trauma kinda way where you remember that hey, maybe actual children shouldn’t be out there saving the world because stupid grownups messed with the wrong other stupid grownups and fucked up big time but refuse to take responsibility. Not in that way. Though that is a fair way. I mean… Never mind.”

Steve does mind. He always minds. Even when he’s comfortably high, incapable of moving anytime soon and suspended in space and time like he is right now, his eyes fixed on a few strands of Robin’s wild hair that move gently in the breeze that makes her break out in goosebumps every couple of minutes.

She’s not looking at him, but that’s okay. Maybe it’s better like this. Loaded questions don’t like direct eye contact.

“You mean?” he prompts gently after a while.

She sighs, burying her chin between her knees, the movements of her pen stilling. Another way for her to be quiet.

“Do you ever just… have your brain trying to convince you that you’d like to sort of… be dead? And then it’s trying really hard to provide you with images and thoughts and scenarios and they all feel, like, very real? And then you get nauseous because your body’s catching up with what your brain is doing and in between that you’re just kinda… There? Trying to make money, do homework or hang out with your friends?”

Steve thinks about it — really thinks about it because thinking horrible thoughts is kind of hard right now, but he honestly can’t remember if he’s ever wanted to be dead in that way. Doesn’t really sound like him either.

He shakes his head even though she’s still not looking. “No. I don’t think so.”

Silence comes back, but now he imagines that the silence means something different for him than it means for her, and now he doesn’t want it there.

“You wanna die, Bobbie?”

She shakes her head, and Steve is glad he’s looking so he can commit that to his memory forever — or until his brain gives out on him, thirty years give or take. It’s a pretty damn short time for a forever, but it’ll have to do.

“No,” she says after a while, her voice hoarse and flat. “Don’t think I do, not really. It’s just… I kind of want people to know. Not to worry, not to fear, just to know. So they’ll know that there’s this, this marathon of a suicidal teenie show on in my head, and the volume is really loud and I can see the flickering lights of the TV on, but I’m not looking. I’m not watching, I choose to watch out of my own two eyes and see what’s real, what’s up. But sometimes the TV grows louder and I can’t ignore it and I have to go look and what if one day I can’t get away from it again and these images become real? And then I won’t even know because reality is funky like that in the way that it’s created and not existent, and… I just… I think I want people to know.”

She sniffles and wipes at her face, but Steve can see she’s not crying. He keeps watching her because she’s not done yet. If she were done she’d not lean her head back against the window frame. If she were done she’d turn her face and look at him, waiting for Steve to make it better. Allowing him to try.

“It’s stupid, though. And embarrassing. We’ll probably all die in another dimension before I graduate from high school, and I’m out here worried that at the end of my days, people will only know me as Robin Buckley, Was Alive, rather than as Robin Buckley, Stayed Alive. Because it’s really… really goddamn hard, Steve.”

And now she’s looking at him, and both of their eyes are burning.

“How stupid is that?” she whispers, self deprecating in that way she usually reserves for her more judgmental days.

“‘S not stupid,” Steve says, wishing he were a little less high. Or perhaps a little more. “It honestly kind of makes sense, y’know, with everything else I know about you. It’s pretty on brand.”

It gets a laugh out of Robin that seems to startle her as much as it delights him, and she wipes her face again before looking at him; her cheek resting on her knees. They’re perfectly aligned; it’s the rest of the world that’s upside-down and tilted sideways.

“Gee, thanks,” she says, but there’s a blue little smile on her face.

“I like that you told me that,” Steve continues. “I hate that it happens, it must suck real bad, but… Hey, at least this way I can try and make sure that in the end, everyone will know how annoying you are, not just how… sad.”

“You suck,” she says, deflating. But it wasn’t the wrong thing to say. “Thank you.”

Steve shrugs and watches as Robin comes over to lay down on the bed right beside him and finish the blunt he abandoned halfway through.

He reaches out to take her hand. She squeezes real tight.

“I’ll take care of you,” he promises. “Always.”

She doesn’t answer, just takes a hit that’s a little too long, a little too deep, and he knows the game. He showed her, after all.

“Will you tell me? Next time the movie marathon’s on too long, too loud, too much?”

Another silence, another hit, sharp orange lighting up her face a little eerily.

“I don’t know,” she says. “Probably not.”

“That’s okay.” And he means it. He’ll probably know again anyway. “I’ll still be there.”

He’s protected her against Russian torture and interdimensional monsters. He’ll hold her hand in his bed and fight the monsters in her head, too.

[acupofinkedblood]

Skateboard x reader

TW: NSFW headcanons

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• Ah yes, the infamous Skateboard himself huh? As expected, he did have his charm after all. This guy can definitely be a package of surprises following another, but there are indeed a few certain things that can be assumed about him pretty easily. Skateboard is pretty flexible in sex himself as he can go both ways without too much struggles. Though he is used to top rather than bottom because he feels like it suits him far better. He has a reference to being the one who does the thing rather than just receiving since it allows him to be in charge of the situation as he knows what he wants and how should he do it. He still bottoms when he really feels like it though, but only when he wants a change in the dynamic to spice things up a bit. Other than that? He tops all the way up, baby

• Sex in Playground is deemed as something casual with no hard feelings. If you walk down the more reserved alleyway there, you will get just what I meant when saying that. Anyway, the same principle applies to Skateboard. He has his fair share of experiences considering how much of a chick magnet he is. Those one night stands are how he figured it out. And hell, he’s good at it, one has to confirm. At least he knows enough to know what he is doing and how to use his dick for some good pleasures. Though of course he stops those one night stands are stuff once he’s with you, but that doesn’t mean he is any less of a professional like he used to play around. You’re in good hands when he has his way with you behind closed door. Maybe a bit too good. Feel free to give him some suggestions that you want to try too, he’s an open book

• As everyone already knows by now, Skateboard is strong due to how much he has to constantly push himself from one place to another while beating people’s asses up like any normal day. He’s an adrenaline junkie, and said thrill gives him that euphoric feeling in which he can’t really find the right word to describe it. That is to say he loves semi-public sex. Just the idea of someone walks up on him wrecking the hell out of you in a dark alley already makes his breath shakes in ecstasy. He also likes to use his strength to push you to where he wants you to be and watch you squirm in his touch. It makes Skateboard going crazy as he knows that you will soon be under his mercy afterwards. Keeping both of your wrists down by one hand while the other fingers you, he likes the thought of it. Probably manhandle you a bit while he is that turned on too. Of course, he’d never want to hurt you, but he won’t be gentle

• He also seems to enjoy spanking you when you’re in a position where he can see your ass, like doggy style. Therefore, slight impact play is included, obviously. And one thing unexpected about Skateboard is how much he enjoys seeing you in some special suggestive clothing. Don’t ask him why, he’ll say it simply makes him feel things down there in his pants for no reason at all. You know he’s shameless already, what is there to be shy about? Sometimes he just wants to rip it off enough to have a good view of you while it’s still on, it drives him wild. There are times when he’s tired as hell yet still needs some release, he’ll just let you bounce up and down on him as one hand keeps your waist steady on his dick while the other hand just holding onto the cigarette behind the couch. Having you in that position, moving your hip against his groin is a good way for him to keep his mind on the like after all, so he just lets you have fun

• He might find the idea of showing you off to his gang to be a good one. Though does it help when he feels slightly jealous when some of them are eying you in a wrong way? Absolutely not. Skateboard might act cool and careless in front of everyone while wrapping his arm around your shoulder, but you’ll soon to realize his how firm it slowly becomes as he gets pissed off. You can feel the drastic change in his vibe, as it’s starting to get defeated despite that smirk of his. He will deal with those idiots later, though that isn’t something that he can cool off immediately down. So when you offer to help him rather than leave him alone, he might or might not be a tad more erratic and dominant than usual due to pent up anger. Not towards you, of course. But there’s actually something about him being annoyed pretty hot, get it?

• Oral is a good getaway when he’s feeling extra spicy. Skateboard is pretty easygoing with both the concept of receiving and giving, anything will be fine with him. When it comes to you giving him head, don’t think that Skateboard will just stay there and let you take your sweet time teasing him. Once you’re used to the pace you have set with it, this bastard will just use that mouth of yours as if it’s a fleshlight. Pardon him for being a bit rough, his grip was just that strong all of the time even when he’s just guiding your head. He knows how to keep his noise down thankfully, or else it’ll get complicated to explain. As for when it’s your time to receive, then you’re in for a good ride because he will make you scream as if that’s his ultimate goal. What a jerk. Skateboard also has a tongue piercing. Go wild with that information, he knows exactly how to use it to make your legs shake

• Have you seen Skateboard going slow and steady to follow the rules with no resentment hinder on his smile out of free will before? Only in a dream? Yeah that’s basically the whole point of it. You’d be out of your mind when assuming that he will provide you the intimate slow lovemaking. If that’s what you really think, then you’re thinking about the wrong guy here. Fast and rough is his entire moto sweetheart. He’s rushing yet also throughout with it, which makes it convenient if you want a quickie that can satisfy you in a limited time. By the time he’s done, you can’t really stand up straight on your legs due to how rough he is. Skateboard’s pace can even get animalistic as he gets carried away pretty easily the more he is thrusting into you, so makes sure to tap him or give him a sign whenever it feels a bit too much, because it can get overwhelming if you’re not used to his pace yet

• Skateboard is pretty much a teaser, if you know what I mean. Does edging you for his own amusement as he deny your orgasm consider as teasing? Probably, right? Well either way, you already know how much of a nuisance this guy can be. There is no way he will just let you get what you want unless he can’t really hold himself back. Dirty talk is his thing after all, and also playing dumb on purpose just to rile you up. He can be so insufferable from times to times, especially when you’re playing hard to get - then he will play you hard too, in his way. If he can’t tease you with his tongue, he always has a backup plan to torture you with his touchy physical gestures. If you try to keep up with him, be ready because Skateboard will do the hell out of you once he has his chance

• Oh you bet your ass this guy will wreck you from when the sun goes down and the moon comes up for who knows how long. His stamina is insane. A mere three or four rounds are possible for him to get to. You definitely have to mentally prepare yourself or decide on a safe word because his limit might be your demise. Hell, he can just finish — let’s make the assumption of a third round — with you, and the next thing you know is that he is still as energetic as ever. He’s a real adrenaline junkie as he gets off it that after all. Skateboard is like a bull, his endurance is questionably high as he also regains his strength back pretty quick. It makes you wonder if all the Playground folks are this much of a horndogs. When you tell him that, it just draws out a cocky smirk on his face as he knows he has left quite the impression on you at that point

• Hard to be the one breaking your bubble there sweetheart, but honestly if you expect some sort of princess treatment aftercare like an obvious thing afterwards, then you’re at the wrong address. Skateboard would simply go for a cigarette for himself or stay still for a moment before talking to you like how he usually does again. If not, then he will just pass out immediately. At the very least, he does offer you a glass of water to rehydrate sometimes as well as asking if you want some takeout. If you want something, you have to tell him. He doesn’t understand that aftercare is such an important thing because life at Playground is too casual and fast paced. Of course, Skateboard will hear you out willingly one you have spoken up about your needs once you have reminded him, so don’t worry much

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Note: I think I’m powercrept my own headcanons at this point due to how long they are (°▽°) Compared to the older ones, yikes-