#i keep expecting to see him and he's not there and that's when it hits me

[beenbaanbuun]

guard dog pt.2 w/ jeong yunho

idk if this will become a series (it absolutely will, i love him). if you have any asks about this little series then i’ll be more than happy to answer them 🥰

warnings - yandere!yunho, hybrid!yunho, role reversal, yunho calls reader puppy, talk of murder, talk of living in a bad neighbourhood, allusions to masturbation, choking

pt1

you were under the impression that by wearing yunho’s jumper, it might piss him off just a little bit

but as you walk into the living room where he lays, limbs slung across the couch that he deemed beneath him no more than a few nights ago, you’re shocked to see a smirk playing on his lips

if you had much more on beneath it, you might have torn it from your body and thrown it at his smug face, but you wouldn’t want to give the mutt the satisfaction of seeing your tits

“going somewhere, puppy?” it’s been three long, arduous days and he still hasn’t dropped the nickname

you’re this close to getting your name tattooed in hold across your forehead; maybe then he won’t forget it

“the shop,” you walk over to grab your boots; heavy and intimidating and perfect for kicking any creep that gets too close, “i want a snack.”

“there’s plenty of food in the fridge,” he deadpans as you make your way over to the sofa

he doesn’t move, not even when you glare so hard at his legs that he can practically feel you burning holes in them

annoying prick

you settle for sitting right on the edge of the cushion, just far enough on to keep yourself from toppling to the floor as you slip your shoes onto your feet

“i don’t want the food in the fridge,” you say simply as you tie your laces, “if i wanted the food in the fridge, i’d eat the food in the fridge.”

a few seconds of silence pass by, and you’re almost positive that he spends them rolling his eyes behind your back

“it’s dangerous to go out at this time on your own,” as if that’s not the most obvious thing in the world

luckily for you, you have the safe streets memorised, and you carry your keys tight in your fist as a make-shift shiv

yunho seems to forget that you’ve lived here far longer than he has; you’re far too used to how dangerous it can be when twilight hits

“nothing stopping you from coming with,” you suggest, although you hope to everything that is holy that he says no

“i’m not getting changed out of my pyjamas, puppy,” a sigh of relief escapes your mouth as he gives you what want

“well, i’m going either way,” you insist, and he nods in understanding, expecting no less of you

you’re not ashamed to admit that you’re stubborn, maybe even sometimes to the point of being a brat

it’s just so fun to see your victim’s get riled up as you push each of their buttons over and over again

part of you hoped you would’ve learned yunho’s buttons by now, enough to get a little rise out of him, at least

but as he looks you up and down with nothing but neutrality in his eyes, you know that yet again you’ve failed

perhaps you’ve met your match, at long last; the person who can turn each and every jab around and aim them back at you

as your annoyance rises within you, making your bones buzz and your heart clench tight in your chest, you understand just how true that is

and you’re fucking stuck with him

“have fun getting murdered down some dark alley, then,” he just waves you off, only serving to piss you off more

“you’re a prick,” you spit in retaliation

your footsteps are heavy as you head to the door, eyes already trained on the little table you stash your keys on for safekeeping

the little silver stash normally takes pride of place, sitting pretty in the centre so as to not go unseen whenever you’re in a rush to leave

but the table is empty, and you know you won’t have put your keys anywhere else

but then there’s a tinkle behind you; the gentle sound of metal upon metal drawing your attention away from where the keys should be to where they actually are

the mutt’s black ears twitch atop his head as he gently fingers the bundle

you watch as the light catches, reflecting back on his stupidly handsome face in dots of shimmering light

fortunately, his prettiness only makes him that much easier to hate; of course the bastard is a prick when he looks like that

“yunho, give me my keys,” your voice is stern, tired of whatever game it is he’s playing already

“don’t want to,” he says, amusement laced through his words

the keys clink louder this time as he takes them in his fist before slipping them into his sweatpants without another word

“yunh—”

“let’s play a game, puppy,” he cuts you off, “if you fetch the keys like a good pup, i’ll let you go to the store. that sound good?”

the smile he wears is wicked, all teeth like he’s a snarling beast

he might look human, for the most part, but the sharp canines that dig into his bottom lip are a harsh reminder that he’s closer to that beast than he seems

but you’re not in the business of losing, and you certainly refuse to give up without a fair fight

if he wants to play dirty, then dirty is what he’ll get

it takes a mere few seconds for you to cross the room back to the couch, shimmying round it until you’re standing in front of him, legs lined up with his crotch

you sink to your knees, not daring to look at his face despite hearing the deep chuckle he gives you in response

“which pocket?” you spit, words sharp and impatient

“work it out, pup.”

you jump at the feeling of a warm hand petting the top of your head, fingers curling around an invisible pair of dog ears to match his own

you try your best to ignore everything about the situation; the game of fetch, the way you’re knelt at his feet, the way his hand absentmindedly plays with your hair

everything about it screams puppy, and that is not your fucking name

your fingers dip into his left pocket, feeling around for a moment or two before coming out empty handed

you don’t even allow a second to tick my before you delve your fingers into his other pocket and feel around in a similar way

but you can’t feel anything in there either, and it stumps you

yunho hums as you draw your fingers back, finally shifting your unamused gaze back to his face

“you know what i think?” he starts, and you nod, desperate for a hint of some kind, “i think you’d be so pretty with a collar wrapped around that lovely little neck of yours.”

it takes you off guard a little, not at all what you were expecting to drop from his mouth

and yet somehow, as the words sink in a little, you find yourself rather unsurprised

you shoot him the harshest glare you can muster before pushing his hand firmly away from your head

“well i don’t have a collar around my nec—”

the warm palm you pushed from your skull not a second prior, now lies on your throat

you can feel it, gentle yet firm as it holds you in place and pushes your protests away

“are you sure about that, puppy?” he growls; a sound that travels straight to your core, “from where i’m sitting, it looks like you do.”

it takes everything in you to shuffle back, just far enough away that his hand slips free of your neck and falls flat against the leather of your sofa

you stand on shaky legs, taking a few steps towards the bathroom as you do everything in your power to not look at him

if you do, you’re not quite sure what will happen

but your avoidant eyes miss the way he slips the keys free of his waistband and tosses them onto the coffee table, satisfied enough in his win to know he doesn’t have to hide them anymore

“i’m going for a shower,” you say with a shaky voice, slipping out of his sight as he gives you a hum of affirmation

it looks like the shower head will come in handy tonight

[wolvietxt]

🌀 quiet confessions w/ logan howlett.

logan wasn’t one for feelings. he’d spent most of his life keeping them buried deep beneath a thick layer of gruffness and blunt words. the world didn’t care about emotions, and neither did he. it was easier that way, safer. but then you came along - soft-spoken, gentle, but fierce when it mattered. you were like sunlight breaking through the cracks in a storm, and no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, you were slowly but surely wearing him down.

at first, he hadn’t even noticed the shift. small things, like how he always found himself giving you the last of his food or offering to carry your bags even when he didn’t have to. it wasn’t anything huge. nothing that screamed “soft spot,” just little acts of consideration. but then he started to catch himself, noticing that his tone with you was softer, the words gentler. when you needed space, he gave it to you without asking. when you needed reassurance, he found himself offering it, even if he didn’t know exactly what you were looking for.

it started small - just a few lingering touches when he handed you something, a brush of his hand against yours. but over time, it became more. it wasn’t intentional at first. it wasn’t like he planned it, but slowly, he realized that when you were around, he wasn’t as gruff. when you spoke, he listened. when you laughed, it made his chest tighten in a way he couldn’t quite explain. and the more time he spent with you, the more he found himself looking out for you, noticing when you were off, when something was bothering you.

he would catch himself watching you when you didn’t know, just observing the way you moved or the way you smiled. there was something about you that made him forget the world around him, like nothing else mattered when you were near. but the hardest part, the part that really threw him off, was how he started to feel different when it came to you. not just in the way he treated you, but in the way his thoughts lingered on you when you weren’t around. it was subtle at first - just a fleeting thought when he was on his own, imagining your smile or the way your eyes lit up when you were excited. but it grew. and that made logan uncomfortable.

he hated how much he liked it. hated how easy it was to slip into this new version of himself when he was with you. how much he enjoyed seeing your eyes light up when he said something, or how you seemed to calm just by the weight of his presence. logan had never been one to believe in ‘soft spots,’ but for you, he’d begun to feel like he was in uncharted territory.

it was one night, after a quiet dinner and an easy conversation, that he really started to feel it. you were sitting beside him, the two of you watching the flickering light from the fire cast shadows across the room. he wasn’t used to being so… comfortable. but with you, it felt right. when you shifted closer to him, leaning your head against his shoulder, he didn’t pull away. instead, he let his arm fall around you, pulling you in just a little tighter.

"you alright?" he asked, his voice unusually soft, the words almost a murmur. there was a tenderness in his tone that surprised even him, and it left a strange warmth spreading through his chest.

you nodded, your breath warm against his neck. "yeah, just… being with you like this is nice," you said, the words quiet, but they lingered in the air between you two.

logan let out a low breath, the weight of those words hitting him harder than he expected. he’d never been the type to say things like that, not out loud anyway, but when you were around, he found himself wanting to be more than just the rough-around-the-edges guy he’d always been.

he hadn’t meant to speak, but the words slipped out before he could stop them. "i don’t want you to think i’m just lookin’ for a way out of this," he said, his voice a bit gravelly with the hint of something else, something that made his chest tighten. he wasn’t sure what he was saying, but it felt important, like this was something that needed to be said. "you make me want to be a better version of myself."

there it was. the truth, spilling out without him meaning it to. he turned to look at you, his gaze searching your face, as if hoping you understood what he was trying to say.

your eyes softened, a smile playing on your lips, and you reached up to gently cup his jaw, the warmth of your touch sending a rush of heat through his veins. "logan," you whispered, your voice barely a breath against his skin, "i know."

the tenderness in your gaze caught him off guard, and before he could say anything else, you leaned in, your lips brushing against his in a kiss that was slow and deliberate. it wasn’t just a kiss - it was the kind of kiss that held everything unsaid between the two of you. everything that had been building for weeks, all the softness, all the quiet moments, all the subtle shifts in the way you looked at each other.

when you pulled back, logan’s heart was pounding, his breath coming faster. the look in his eyes was darker now, something almost feral stirring beneath the surface. "damn it," he muttered under his breath, the words thick with desire. his hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek as his gaze locked onto yours. "i didn’t think i’d feel like this, but hell, i do."

you smiled, a mixture of warmth and mischief lighting up your expression, and you leaned in again, capturing his lips in a kiss that was anything but slow this time. it was hungry, desperate, and everything that had been building between the two of you came to a head in that moment. logan’s grip tightened around you as he kissed you deeply, his tongue brushing against yours with a fevered intensity that left no room for hesitation.

he didn’t need words anymore. not when his actions spoke louder than anything he could say. he was falling for you, and he knew it now. and there was no going back.

🌀 logan howlett : @notacleangirl, @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @rooroen

@lemoanaid, @correnz, @coocoocachewgotscrewed, @ohmystvrk, @y08h

@lovely-liliacs, @california-boys-and-sun

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[muchosbesitos]

DOUBLE OR NOTHING— featuring toji fushiguro x wife! reader

after countless empty promises spilled from his lips, you wanted to believe that he’d show up to your anniversary of all things.

contents: 18+ content, minors dni. marriage problems, talks of divorce, (some) angst, smut, porn w minimal plot, cunnilingus w fingering, toji being a panty sniffer briefly mentioned, unprotected p in v, spanking (twice), backshots, missionary against a wall, toji kinda being an ass (what did you expect), pet names (ma, doll, etc.)

word count: 5k

author’s note: back from the dead sry

"I'll make it home to you by six, mama. Take you out on a nice date, get you some flowers, all that stuff you like. Promise."

The clock was nearing eight o'clock with no signs of Toji coming through the door anytime soon, your own patience starting to run out with every tick. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. The sound echoed through your ears since you'd sat down on the leather couch nearly two hours ago, waiting for Toji to fulfill the promise. A promise that he'd made after flaking out on the date planned prior to that one.

And prior to that one. And prior. It'd been more missed dates than actual ones that he'd taken you out by now—you weren't exactly sure why you'd hoped for tonight to be different. Well, you knew exactly why. Today marked three years of being married to one another. You knew that he didn't prioritize date nights with you as much as he should, but you had held some sort of foolish hope that your anniversary would mean something—anything to him.

The divorce papers felt like a dead weight in your hand, much like how your relationship would be the second that you brought it up. It all just seemed so final, seeing the terms laid out that would end years of marriage. Just by the flick of a pen. But the idea was almost like a reprieve, like something that was worth looking forward to. You shook your head, getting up from the couch to set the stack of papers on the kitchen table where Toji wouldn't miss them.

Another half hour of eerie silence and Toji still hadn't come through the door. It was getting increasingly difficult to keep some semblance of hope that he'd even show up at all, much less for your date. You admitted defeat, slipping off your heels and pulling up a throw blanket over yourself. Succumbing to the sleep that was weighing down on your eyelids.

You weren't even sure how much time had passed when you heard the door swing open, the door hitting the wall from the force. The thud of his shoes hitting the tile followed, a grumble leaving Toji's lips. "Fuckin' bastards rigged that race. Robbed me of fifty bucks," he muttered to himself, slipping his coat off before placing it up on the coat rack.

"You're home late," you called out, watching as Toji turned to look at the couch before flicking on one of the living room lights. "Jesus woman, you scared me," he grumbled, a large hand resting by his chest as he looked over in your direction. Toji rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion lingering on his face like a second skin. It was only then that he looked over at you, really looked at you, and what you were wearing.

Ah shit.

Almost as if he wanted to make the situation worse, he'd chosen to go with, "You got all dolled up just to fall asleep on the couch?" You could've sworn you felt your eye twitch at the question. He'd barely opened up his mouth and you were already wishing that he didn't even bother showing up for the night.

Toji knew he was in deep shit with each step he took into the living room, his mind already starting to work overdrive to figure out what he could do for what he'd missed. A date? No, you wouldn't have put on the very expensive pair of Louboutins for just any date. His mind was blanking on anything other than the numbers that he'd lost with earlier in the day. Come on, think.

"No, I got dolled up because I thought I'd be going out with my husband tonight," you retorted dryly, smudges of eyeshadow sticking to your hand when you went to rub at your eyes. You could see Toji's brows furrow, the wheels seeming to turn in his head for once, before a look of realization settled on his features.

"Look, I'm sorry. I got carried away at the casino," one of the many excuses you'd heard before coming back to bite you in the ass. The same excuse that he'd used last month when he forgot about a work party you'd mentioned to him. Which wouldn't have been too bad if it weren't for all the snide comments being whispered in your direction and all the unwarranted marriage advice.

Advice that you ended up forgetting about chugging down two glasses of tequila like water. "I'll make it up to you, I swear. You can pick the place and all that shit." There went another one. He'd really topped himself using the two of them in a row. You rubbed the bridge of your nose, looking over at him in disbelief. "Do you even know what today was? Why I'm so pissed off?"

"It's your birthday?" Toji spoke after a couple seconds, the answer clearly wrong just by the look on his face. You rubbed a hand over your face, standing up from your spot on the couch. "It's our wedding anniversary, Toji," you spoke up before he made another guess that would just piss you off even further, "And I have something I need to talk to you about. It's on the kitchen table."

Underneath the vase filled with wilted flowers—a collection more than anything that you kept around as a reminder that Toji used to care, was a stack of papers. He placed the vase down on the table with more force than necessary upon realizing what the documents were. "A divorce?" The words slipped out of him with such venom, such distaste, like the idea was unfathomable.

Toji slammed the papers down on the table, the salt and pepper shakers trembling before falling over. "Is that really what you want?" He stepped closer to you when you approached the table, his hands instinctively moving to hold your hips. Holding you close to his body. "No, I didn't get married with the intention of getting a divorce. But you've been neglecting this marriage for a couple months now."

"I'll make it up to you now," Toji spoke quickly, like he was afraid of losing you at any moment. Like you'd disappear if he didn't. And as much as you wanted to avoid looking over at him, the task had just become all that much difficult when you had nowhere else to look at. It only took one glance at his face to realize just what he meant by 'making it up to you.'

"You think you're gonna fix months of pushing me aside with just sex?"

"Nah, I know it's gonna take more. But you've been so tired, isn't that right? So tired of tryin' to keep this marriage from falling apart and nobody taking care of you?" His words were like a siren's song when he whispered them in your ear, your traitorous body leaning back to meet the drag of your fingertips. It was almost laughable at how easily your resolve had melted. "Lemme take care of you mama. Promise I'll make you feel good."

"You wanna call me a dick, never wanna see me again? That's fine, just don't deny me one last taste. Please," And while Toji wasn't a man to beg for anything in his life, he found himself saying the words anyways. "Thought this was you making it up to me," and as much as you were willing yourself not to fold, you felt yourself spreading your legs almost instinctively when his finger dragged up your inner thigh.

"Can't it be both?" Toji's teeth nipped at your neck, licking a stripe up the junction of your neck. Practically salivating at the taste of you, of the expensive perfume you'd put on just a mere hours beforehand. "One could say that you're just being selfish," your words quickly died out when Toji started sucking on your pulse point, your own heartbeat betraying you. You'd expected Toji to sass you back, say something about how your body was just so needy against his touch.

But instead, he dropped down to his knees in front of you. The wooden floor underneath his knees almost made him feel bad for all the times he had you in a similar position. Almost. Toji looked up at you, "Selfish only when it comes to you."

Every slow drag of his fingertips across your smooth skin seemed almost reverent— like you were something to worship. You were, he just failed to realize that until now. Until you were almost out the door. "I'm sorry," the first real apology of the night slipped out of his mouth, his lips pressed against your shin. "I'm sorry," he moved up to your knee, repeating the action. Hushed whispers of I'm sorry's and featherlight kisses moving up your legs, stopping only when he gets to your clothed cunt.

"I'm sorry," Toji uttered his last apology against your cunt, his eyes locking onto yours as he applied an open mouthed kiss on your clothed clit. Barely darting his tongue out, swirling it against the nerves that were just begging for one ounce of stimulation. And he was practically reveling in how needy he made you in the span of seconds. Your back arched to rest against the seat behind you, one of your hands going to rest on his head.

Toji's fingers dragged slowly in between your folds, feeling the wet patch already starting to form through the thin lace material. You refused to make eye contact with him, knowing that if you did, he'd be able to see just how desperate you were in just a manner of seconds. Even if the bastard probably had a clue already. "You sure your pussy agrees with the divorce?" His voice came out to something akin to a purr, the drag of his fingers slowing down.

Getting you even more worked up than you were already. "Fucking hate you, can't even apologize right," you let out a hiss, your hand going down to his hair. Pulling his head even closer to you despite your previous claim. "Fine, I'll apologize correctly," Toji sounded like you were the one inconveniencing him—to which you were. He wanted to take his time with his meal, have you begging for him to touch you. And normally, he would've.

If he weren't desperate to have your cunt on his face again after weeks, months? of just having his fist to work with. His fist and a used pair of your panties up to his nose like a pervert, hips humping the air in desperation. Imagining that it was your tongue flicking across his leaking tip instead of his thumb, that it was your soft hands in exchange of his rough ones. And as easy as it was for him to get laid—he didn't want to be with anyone that wasn't you.

Toji hadn't tasted someone as sweet as you, heard someone so angelic before, but now he supposed that maybe he'd have to put that theory to the test if you left him after all. Just the idea was maddening. That someone else would be doing the same thing that he's doing to you now, that they'd give you the affection that he should've given.

"Especially sorry to you. Been neglecting you for too long," he hooked his fingers around the side of your panties, pulling them to the side just enough to reveal your slick folds to him. Toji swiped the tip of his finger along your entrance, your slick glistening against the harsh kitchen lighting before he stuck in his mouth. Swirling his tongue around it, licking away at it like the slut he was.

And like the deprived man that he'd been, Toji's hands went to the lace of your underwear and stretched it out until a loud rip echoed throughout the kitchen. "You always this wet for people you hate? Or is that just for me?" Toji taunted, pushing your tattered panties down to your ankles. Finally leaning in closer to where you were aching for him to touch you. To do something other than just tease you relentlessly.

Toji settled on his knees behind you, spreading your legs open like you were his favorite meal. His tongue swiped up on your dripping cunt, licking up your essence with sheer greed. "Mmph fuck, so good," his words came out muffled, his tongue swiping across your folds before darting inside of your cunt. Your grip on the table tightened, your hips working on their own accord to push back onto his face. Practically suffocating him in your pussy. Not that he minded. By any means.

Toji practically welcomed it, his hands pushing you down onto his face. Getting absorbed in your cunt completely. "A-Ah fuck, Toji!" You could already see the noise complaint hanging on your front door first thing in the morning. But how could you be expected to keep your voice down? Toji spread your folds apart with two fingers as if he were preparing for a feast, his tongue feverishly licking in between.

"Fuckin' soaked already, knew you loved me," The vibration of the low chuckle that followed his words shot currents up your spine, your ass jiggling all that much more in his face. With such a decadent taste coating his taste buds, dying by your pussy would be nothing short of a blissful way to go out. One of the fingers that he'd been using to spread your folds had been pushed inside of your cunt, your walls clenching around him.

Toji's tongue flicked against your clit, swirling the tip around the bud while his finger slowly pushed further inside of you. The loud squelch of your cunt was the only thing that filled the apartment, everything else completely silent. Your fingers dug deeper into his scalp, a low groan leaving his lips. "F-Fuck, Toji Toji," he pushed another thick finger inside, moving them in a scissoring motion to stretch you out.

"You think y're gonna find someone who can do this?" Toji looked up at you, his fingers curling up to hit that spongy spot inside of you almost perfectly. And if you didn't know any better, you'd almost say that he looked vulnerable while he made the question. Toji's lips wrapped around your clit, gently sucking on it as his fingers worked you closer and closer to your orgasm. You couldn't bring yourself to answer—didn't trust yourself to speak.

"Toji, Toji, gonna cum," you gave him a warning, your jaw falling slack and your lips parting in a o-shape. Soundless moans leaving your lips, feeling that coil in your lower tummy start to tighten up all the much more. With one final pump of his fingers, you were covering his lips with your release. His tongue swiped across his lips, across the scar that he hated, collecting every drop. Savoring what he imagined would be the last taste of you.

"Turn around," It was almost embarrassing how quickly you'd turned around per your soon-to-be ex husband's request.

Toji didn't take more than a couple seconds in unbuttoning his pants and taking them off, his cock hitting his stomach once it was released from its confines. Precum dribbled from his annoyingly almost pretty pink tip, dripping onto the floor. Drip. Drip. Drip. His cock slid through your folds like a slip n slide, your previous orgasm coating his tip with every lazy drag. "Toji," your voice bordered on a whine, pushing your hips to try to meet his movements.

"Tell me what you want," Toji clicked his tongue, one of his hands moving to hold your waist. Keeping you completely still until he got what he wanted. You figured there wasn't any harm in whining—you were already fucking the man after you brought up a divorce. There truly wasn't that much more to lose. "Why do I have to ask for it when you're the one apologizing?"

"Because you're the one pushing your hips back against me. All needy 'n shit. So.. beg."

"Want you inside me, Toji. Please."

"Want?"

You let out a huff before correcting yourself, "Need."

"Come on, doll. You can say it nicer than that, right?" Toji's pointer trailed up your torso, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

So goddamn annoying. You swallowed whatever pride you had left before looking back over at him, "Please, Toji. Need your cock in me. Please."

Toji clicked his tongue, one hand wrapping around his cock and giving himself a couple tentative pumps. "Think you can beg better than that. But since I'm feeling nice, I guess I'll let it slide." So much for feeling apologetic. Toji pushed his cock inside of you in one swift motion, a hiss leaving your lips at the stretch. Even with the fingers that'd been inside of you, nothing could've really prepared you.

"You okay?" Toji dropped his head to rest on your shoulder, whispering the words in your ear. Staying still while your walls tried to adjust to the overwhelming stretch. "You try taking your cock," you muttered dryly, giving him a nod to start moving. "Why would I do that when you take it so well?" Toji pushed the rest of his cock inside, his hands resting on your hips.

Toji wasn't particularly known for being gentle—the one hospital visit after he'd injured your cervix more than enough proof of that, but he started off slow. Slow, shallow thrusts. Fucking you in a way that he hasn't since your honeymoon. "Toji, you can speed up," you assured him, your words getting cut off with a smack to your ass. "What I'd say about tellin' me what to do?" Ah, there was the mean Toji that you recognized.

"Wouldn't need to tell you what to do if my vibrator wasn't looking more appealing right now."

Famous last words.

The change was almost immediate. Mascara dribbled down your cheeks, the sight of your once composed makeup all ruined making Toji's cock twitch inside of you. "Fucking pretty like this, y'know?" His teeth sunk down on the junction of your shoulder, his teeth grazing across the sensitive flesh. His hips snapped roughly into yours, your breathing growing erratic. "Fuck, Fuck, Toji!"

The coldness of his gold wedding band hit your skin as soon as he went to grip your hips, holding you against him like he needed to be close to you. The two of you had been distant for some time and he hadn't bothered to take off his wedding band once, not even on the rare occasion that he actually did happen to take a job. Toji would never admit it, of course—but he was starved for the feeling of your skin against his own.

To confirm that you were still here after all.

Your hands reached out to grab to whatever you could grab—anything, and of course, it just happened to be the divorce papers sitting on the middle of the table. Practically taunting you as your own signature glared back at you. "This good enough for you, princess?" Toji taunted in your ear, his blunt fingernails digging into your sides. "Mhm, j-just like that," your voice came out in a mewl, all bits of defiance completely out of your system.

"There you go. Nasty fucking girl," Toji all but purred in your ear the moment you started to jerk your hips back to meet his own, your ass bouncing with each one of his thrusts. "Just needed Toji to take care of ya," all you could was nod your head fervently, your grip on the divorce papers tightening. And Toji, of course, took notice. He took the papers from you with one hand, giving them a once-over before passing them back over.

"Come on, since ya wanted it so bad, read me those divorce papers," Toji handed you the stack of papers, pointing to where you'd signed your initials just a couple hours prior. Your hands shook as you held the papers, your vision blurry as you tried to make out the legal jargon in front of you. Even the simplest of words seemed all too complicated to try to make out.

"T-Toji, I can't," your voice cracked, your grip on the papers tightening when his cock reached all that much deeper inside of you. Toji clicked his tongue, peering over your shoulder to read the first sentence from the document. "That's not what it says ma, try again."

"Without all the stuttering too."

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to focus on the words in front of you instead of Toji's cock sinking further and further into you. "S-Says that the divorce agreement was made today between us," you clutched the sheets tighter, your eyes almost rolling back when Toji bottomed out inside of you. The tip of his cock dripping precum, your walls fluttering as you tried to get adjusted.

"Mm, yeah, keep goin'," Toji really couldn't care—his focus solely on the way that your cunt stretched out to fit his cock. Leaking around his shaft, loud squelches when he pulled out overplaying whatever shitty soap opera was playing. "And what'd I say about the s-stuttering?" Toji mocked your words, his own hips stuttering mere seconds later while he tried not to get absorbed in your cunt. Not that it was an easy task by any means.

It was hard, especially with the way that you claimed to be over this marriage despite your pussy claiming otherwise. When you opened your mouth to speak, the only thing that left you was a moan. "F-Fuck Toji, right there," your eyes shut tightly at the touch of his calloused hand making itself in between your legs, his thumb rubbing at your clit in a speed that felt like it combated his own running abilities.

"That's not what it says, c'mon," Toji grabbed your chin with his thumb and pointer, turning your head to face the overwhelmingly long divorce papers. You wouldn't finish tonight if he intended for you to read the whole thing, you knew that much. A harsh slap against your swollen clit made the pleasure coursing through your veins mix with pain, a shaky gasp leaving your kiss-swollen lips.

Drool leaked from the corner of your mouth, the black ink smearing with each drop that fell from your parted lips. Your walls enveloped every inch of his cock perfectly, your cunt holding his cock in a vice-like grip. "That I won't try to t-take your things," you managed to get out, hoping that it would be good enough. You knew the two of you wouldn't finish today if he made you read the never ending stack of papers. 

"Good enough," Toji sounded like he would've kept it going if he could, but you set them down as quickly as he spoke. It was almost like Toji was trying to remind you of why you'd fallen in love with him in the first place—the man reverent to your cunt and your cunt only. Every grip of your hips kept you closer and closer to his body, almost as a way for Toji to make sure you weren't slipping away.

"Wh—" Before you had the chance to complain about the loss of contact, Toji had already carried you without a smidge of struggle. His hands hooked underneath your plush thighs, hoisting you up against the wall. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his slutty waist, practically clinging onto him like a koala. "There we go, there's that pretty lil face," Toji placed his pointer underneath your chin, taking in the view in front of him.

The glazed over look in your eyes, the sweat beading up on your forehead, the makeup that he'd successfully ruined—everything about you was just so beautiful. How you tried to avoid looking in his direction for too long. "Don't leave me ma, need you in my life," the words were whispered into your ear, his cock pushing back inside of you in one swift motion. Toji's fingers went back to your throbbing clit, his pointer and middle rubbing against it at the perfect speed.

Not too fast, not too slow, and not too rough.

"Don't ask me to do that," you almost sounded pained as you spoke—not from him filling you up, but for the implication of his words. You'd practically babble anything right now, anything for him to keep going. To forget about the reality that awaits the two of you. Toji's lips found yours in an instant, the exchange between the two of you almost depraved. His mouth was feverish in the way that it moved against yours, like he'd never get the chance again.

Your hand went to the back of his head, pushing him closer against you. Letting yourself forget for just a little while longer. A string of saliva connected your lips to his when you pulled away—only to catch air. "I’m close, Toji, so close," you whined against his lips, your release coating his shaft a mere moments later. Toji only used that as lubricant, his movements quicker against your cunt to chase his own release.

"There's no one else for me, I'll stop goin' to t-the casino, stop gettin' into trouble," Toji had been reduced to a babbling the first thing he pulled out of his ass, if only to get you to stay. His head rested against the junction of your neck, basking in the remnants of proximity that he could get. Shaky breaths left his lips with each thrust of his hips, feeling himself getting closer and closer. "You've been saying that since we've been married."

"I mean it this time, I promise," you'd never heard a lie sound so pretty slipping from someone's lips before until now.

He bit down on the side of your neck, hard. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to where you'd probably have to use a tube of concealer to even attempt to cover up the bruising mark. Causing you problems even now. But you'd be lying if the sudden act of possessiveness had your walls clenching against him even tighter, if that was even possible anymore.

His cock was barely moving against the tight grip you held around his shaft, his pace stuttering. "Fuck, fuck, so tight," Toji let out a loud groan, completely at the will of your pussy. He threw his head back, a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks in this lighting. Ropes and ropes of cum decorated your cunt, his softening length snug inside of you. Toji ended up pulling out a couple moments later, scooping the drops of cum that leaked down your thighs with his finger.

Toji was shameless in the way that he stuck the finger in his mouth, a low moan leaving his lips at the combined taste of him and you. Before your rationality came back, before you got the chance to even think about regretting this, you leaned in and crashed your lips against his own. Tasting yourself on his tongue. The kiss lingered between the two of you more than it needed to, it was less rushed than the prior ones you'd shared.

Like a last taste.

"So, you still want to get that divorce?" Toji knew you would've just babbled whatever for him to keep going, saving the question until now. His movements were almost reluctant as he pulled his pants over his legs once again, making little attempt to fix up his hair. If anything, his fingers only ended up messing the strands even more. Despite knowing the answer deep down, Toji still held out hope. That maybe you'd had some eye-opening moment while he was balls-deep.

You stood up properly, looking over at the ruined sheets on the table before looking back over at him. "I do," you spoke after a couple seconds, grabbing your tattered panties from the floor and smoothing over your dress. Trying to maintain whatever semblance of dignity you had left. Even if it was probably just as tattered up as your underwear at this point.

"Why? You know I love you. You know that you love me. So why should we get separated?" You did know that. But you also weren't sure that he'd ever loved you enough to consider changing. To consider the fact that you needed some sort of affection outside of sex.

"Because you think that somehow every problem between us can be resolved with sex. You say that you want to do better and yet, you never do. It doesn't even feel like you're my husband half of the time," all the bottled up feelings from the past couple months spilled out of you in a manner of seconds. All the bottled up thoughts that maybe you should've told your husband about earlier. Though, you weren't even sure if Toji would've paid it any mind.

And almost as if he'd read your train of thought, "Why didn't you tell me about all this before just hittin' me with divorce papers?"

"Because the few times that I did, you told me to stop bitching. That I shouldn't have anything to complain about with a roof over my head and a fridge full of food," you started off, almost waiting for him to deny what you were saying, "And while I'm not saying that I'm not thankful for those things, I also don't want to feel ungrateful for saying that I miss my husband."

Silence lingered between the two of you, each second that passed by only confirming what the two of you already knew by now. That a divorce wasn't such a far-fetched idea. Toji knew there wasn't left to even attempt fighting for, so he simply just told you, "I'll sign 'em when you get the new ones."

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Classified Affection

Pairing: Konig x reader

Warnings: Fluff with angst, rivals to lovers

Authors Note: I hope you enjoy, this is my first time writing for him! Readers Codename is Sprite (To the person who made the Konig ask, I promise I’m working on it, it’s gonna be my longest ff ever I’m trying to do it some justice as my first ever ask I promise😭)

Word Count: 1.3k

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

When you first met König, you never expected him to get under your skin. He was the sort of soldier you didn’t forget—a towering, masked figure who dominated the room without saying a word. Even among hardened operators, he stood out, and while others were intimidated by his quiet intensity, you’d seen it as a challenge.

From the first training exercise, your competitiveness drove you to match his every move, and you felt the heat of his attention every time he watched you run drills or execute maneuvers with the kind of agility that earned you the codename “Sprite.” He was precise, silent, and observant, and the rivalry between you quickly became a quiet, unspoken war. The few times he did speak to you, his deep, accented voice held a weight that felt like an accusation—like he was daring you to keep up with him.

Your teams took notice, watching with amusement as you and König constantly outdid each other. Every joint mission turned into a hidden scoreboard: who could cover more ground, make the cleanest kill, hit the mark without hesitation. It was a game, but the stakes felt higher each time. The push and pull between you felt electric, thrilling, and maddening. You wanted to beat him, but you couldn’t ignore the pull in your stomach every time his eyes met yours. His gaze was intense, lingering too long, dark and unreadable.

One night, after a grueling training day, you found him in the gym, lifting weights in silence. You told yourself it was curiosity that made you approach him, not the need to prove yourself yet again. Without a word, you joined him, setting up a bench across from his and lifting the heaviest weights you could manage. König looked at you, his expression unreadable behind the mask, but his eyes narrowed in interest. Neither of you said a word as you worked out side by side, the weight of unsaid things pressing down on you both. His gaze lingered on you, sliding over you like a challenge, and you felt a thrill—part anger, part something far more dangerous—coursing through you.

When you were finally alone, catching your breath, he spoke, his voice low and rough. “Are you always this competitive?”

You wiped the sweat from your brow, meeting his gaze evenly. “Only when there’s someone worth competing against.”

His eyes darkened, a subtle tension passing between you that made you swallow hard. He tilted his head, studying you in a way that felt both infuriating and intimate. “Is that all this is to you, Sprite? Competition?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but the words didn’t come. He stepped closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating from him, and you held your ground, refusing to back down. He didn’t say anything more, but in that heavy silence, it felt as if he were daring you to break first, to react, to do anything to acknowledge the spark neither of you could ignore. But neither of you moved.

The tension only grew, and on missions, it seemed impossible to separate your rivalry from the intense, unspoken chemistry. That all came to a head on a mission where you and König were deep in enemy territory, tasked with a high-stakes extraction. Your squads were positioned to cover each other, yet as usual, you ended up moving together in sync, keeping a close eye on each other’s every move.

As the mission unfolded, gunfire erupted, scattering your squads. You were forced to take cover alone in a half-destroyed building. König’s voice came through your comms, low and steady. “Sprite, do you have cover?”

The question felt loaded, and you could practically see his frown in your mind. You answered, trying to keep the tension out of your voice. “Barely. But don’t worry—I’ll handle it.”

There was a pause before he responded, his voice tinged with impatience. “Stay where you are. I’m coming to you.”

Minutes later, he was at your side, his presence filling the cramped space as you huddled behind cover together. You could hear his heavy breathing as he checked the perimeter, his body close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him, even through your tactical gear. He was a wall of muscle and strength beside you, and it took everything in you not to lean into him, to take the comfort he silently offered.

“You don’t need to babysit me,” you whispered, even as you stayed close to him.

König’s eyes narrowed, his gaze searing as he glanced down at you. “I’m not babysitting, Sprite. I’m watching your back. There’s a difference.”

You bristled at his tone, but there was an unspoken gentleness beneath his words that made your stomach twist. “Don’t flatter yourself, big guy. I can take care of myself.”

For a heartbeat, he didn’t answer, and the tension between you hung in the air, heavy and charged. His gaze drifted to your lips before meeting your eyes again, his face closer than you’d realized. “I don’t doubt it. But that doesn’t mean I’m letting you out of my sight.”

Your heart raced as he held your gaze, the unsaid things between you pressing harder than ever. Then, a voice crackled over your comms, breaking the moment. “König, Sprite, are you two in position? We need you back here.”

You and König exchanged a glance, the usual fire of rivalry dimmed by something softer. With a brief nod, he pulled back, slipping back into the mission. But you couldn’t shake the tension, the feeling that something between you had shifted, your rivalry leaving behind a crack that let something more vulnerable bleed through.

The mission wrapped up successfully, but even after your squads had debriefed, you couldn’t shake the memory of his gaze, the way he’d looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered. As the team celebrated, König stood apart, his eyes following you whenever he thought no one was looking. The awareness of him, the pressure of that gaze, was like a live wire humming beneath your skin.

Later that night, you found him in the dimly lit courtyard, away from the others. His posture was tense, as if he’d been waiting. You approached him slowly, words forming in your mind, but they all felt hollow. He looked at you, his eyes softening with a vulnerability you rarely saw. In the quiet, with the stars above and the night around you, the rivalry, the rules, the mission—all of it faded away.

When he held out his hand, you took it, feeling the roughness of his gloves and the strength in his grip as he pulled you close. You could feel his heart beating, his chest rising and falling against you. He was a fortress you’d spent so long trying to breach, and yet here he was, letting you in.

After a long silence, he spoke, his voice barely a whisper. “This… whatever it is… it’s worth the risk, isn’t it?”

You felt the tension loosen, the heat of his words melting any doubts you’d had. You squeezed his hand, your voice breaking through the quiet. “Every bit of it.”

For a moment, he hesitated, and then his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. His mask lifted just enough for his lips to brush against yours, a feather-light, fleeting kiss that held all the weight of what you couldn’t say aloud. And when he pulled away, his hand lingered, as if anchoring you to the promise he’d just made.

“Then we’ll keep it ours,” he murmured, his voice rough but certain, echoing in the stillness.

In that moment, you both knew you’d do whatever it took to protect the secret between you—the rivalry that had somehow turned into something rare and precious, hidden under layers of armor but more real than anything else.

I hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[butterflyslinky]

It's been seven months. They've seen each other on calls, but they keep up a mask of stiff professionalism if they have to talk at all.

But now Buck's sitting in a gay bar, looking for some fun the same way he does on every 48 off. His expectations are low. No one seems to want a real relationship, not that he's really trying for one, ad the sex is mediocre at best.

Because none of them are Tommy.

He's two drinks in when he hears a familiar laugh and turns. There's Tommy, sitting four stools down and talking to the bartender. Buck wonders how he missed him entering the bar, but it doesn't matter. What matters is Tommy is here, so close, and Buck...

Okay, he'd jumped the gun asking Tommy to move in. And everything he's said before that had been...not great. Thinking about it, it's no wonder Tommy had hit the brakes. Though he maybe could have asked to just take a break instead of ending it completely.

Though it would have gone the same way, probably.

Buck knocks back his last drink and stands. He's steady on his feet as he makes his way down the bar and plops himself into the empty seat next to Tommy

Tommy doesn't look shocked to see him. Not happy, either. Just kind of resigned. "Buck?"

"Don't," Buck says. "I don't want..." He grits his teeth to force back tears. "I think we need to talk."

"Why?" Tommy asks.

"Because I have things to say to you," Buck says. "And I'm not going to let you just walk out again."

He's said all those things, in texts that sat unanswered, voice messages that were probably deleted without being heard. This time, he wants to make sure Tommy hears.

"I don't have a lot of time tonight," Tommy says.

"Then I'll say it fast. You broke my heart, Tommy. You said you were my first but not my last...but you weren't my first. I've dated and broken up before, I know what relationships are. Just cause you're a dude doesn't mean it was any different. As to not being my last, well, I've had plenty in the last seven months and none of them are going to be my anything. I told you they can be the same thing, and I mean it. I don't want to be in love with anyone the way I'm in love with you."

"Evan..."

"And if you don't want me, fine, but just say that instead of giving me some bullshit about not wanting your heart broken. Because I can't break your heart, Tommy. Maybe it's been seven months, but I'm still in love with you, and I don't see that changing any time soon." Evan looks down for a moment. "So...I know I'm a lot. I know I said some dumb shit. And I know there's a lot I still don't know. But I do know I want you to come home with me, and you don't have to stay, but...I want to try again. Now that I know a little more."

Tommy's eyes are bright when Buck looks up. "I can't."

"What?"

"Evan, I can't come with you tonight. Or any night."

Buck's stomach sinks. "Is there someone else?"

"No," Tommy says. "No, just...I got a new job. In Seattle...they offered me a command. A chance to be captain...don't get much more brave and trailblazing than that, do you, being an openly gay fire captain." He swallows hard. "I'm leaving on Monday."

Buck stares. The world seems to be tilting, even though he hasn't had that much to drink. "Oh."

"I thought you would have heard," Tommy says. "It's been kind of big news around the department."

"Everyone's been extra delicate with me," Buck says. "They don't talk about you where they think I can hear." He forces a smile. "Congratulations...you deserve it."

"Yeah?" Tommy says.

"Yeah. I'm happy for you." Buck waves to the bartender. "Put his drinks on my tab."

"Evan..."

"Least I can do. Since...since it's really over."

Tommy nods, but he looks sad. "Yeah," he says. "I guess I can just...start again. And I guess you can, too."

"Yeah," Buck says. "I guess I can."

--------------

It's a stupid idea, but Buck's full of those. He knows that it'll probably end in disaster, that he'll end up crawling back with his tail between his legs again.

But he has to try.

The airport looks just the same as it had when he dropped Abby off all those years ago. The same was it had been when he'd watched her walk out of his life, only to be seen again when it was unavoidable.

He's not doing that now.

Tommy is easy to spot, in spite of the crowd, standing in the check-in line. Buck thinks it must be kismet, that he's on time. There had been several flights to Seattle today, and he just took his best shot.

"Tommy!"

Tommy turns, and his brow furrows when he sees Buck. "Evan?"

Buck pushes his way through the crown, suitcase heavy in his hand, until he reaches Tommy's side. Tommy looks him over, then down at the bag. "Evan, what..."

"I know you said it's over," Buck says. "And that you don't want to try this again. And if you tell me to leave right now, I will. But I couldn't take the chance that I'd never see you again, even if you don't want to be in my life. And don't worry about work, Bobby transferred me to a different station than the one you're commanding, and I have a place to stay until I can find an apartment, and I'll get a new car since I gave the Jeep back to Maddie, but..."

"Evan," Tommy interrupts. "Did you just upend your life to follow me to Seattle?"

"Yes," Evan says. "If you'll let me."

Tommy stares for a minute before he pulls Buck into a kiss. And this time, Buck really knows it will be forever.

[minimomoe]

Believe Me

another song association. this time No One Noticed by The Marias

Toji stood on your front porch with heavy steps. From the looks of it, the house was completely quiet with all the windows devoid of light. It should be, given that it was 1 in the morning. He winced when he checked the time on his phone. You were going chew him out for this. You had every right to. He promised to come home earlier, even went as far as telling you to get all dolled up so that he could take you out and your eyes glittered at the instructions. There was no way you wouldn't be pissed off by his change of plans.

Toji fitted his copy of the key that you gave him into the locks quietly turned the handles. He toed off his shoes and silently padded through the house in search of you. What he didn't expect was for you to be sitting on the couch with a blanket wrapped around your body, scrolling through your phone with disdain.

"Fucking hell," he started. You had startled the large man. Not enough to make him jump out of his skin but he was sure you'd be sleeping by now. You were usually knocked out once the clock hit 10pm.

"Look who finally decided to show up," you muttered. You didn't even spare him a glance. Swipe, swipe, swipe is all you did with your fingers. Toji carefully treaded to where you sat at. His feet touched something on the ground, and when his eyes adjusted he the black heels that he loved to see decorating your feet on the floor. You were going to wear them out tonight.

"Is your phone broken?"

Toji should answer carefully. If he lied it wouldn't help him, but if he told the truth it would only make you more upset. He got down on one knee, resting his hand on your blanket covered thigh in hopes of warming up to you but you shrugged him off. He sighed.

"No. It isn't."

You sniffled, refusing to look at him. "Right. You told me to get ready, then didn't answer your phone for hours, just to show up here at the dead of night. I went through all seven stages of grief for nothing. Thanks."

"Something came up."

"Something came up," you echoed. Even with the faint glow of your phone illuminating your face, Toji could see the tears start to well up in your lashes. "Must've been important."

Silence stretched for miles between the two of you. Toji could see your walls building up, shutting him out, and he felt a tinge of panic in his chest. He knew he put you through a lot, but that's part of the reason why he loved you. He felt like you understood him better than others. You didn't pry, you didn't have some unrealistic expectation of him; you took him as he was. You loved him. But it seems like even you had your limits.

"Listen, I--"

"Don't worry about it, Toji," you sighed. You swung your legs out from under you and stood up from the couch. The blanket pooled around your feet on the floor, revealing a new dress he hasn't seen before. It was beautiful, hugging your curves and showed off the top of your cleavage. Toji mentally kicked himself once again. "It was my fault, really. I got excited. Too excited. I know how unpredictable your schedule is. I should've expected it."

You sounded defeated. You wanted to walk past him but Toji wouldn't let you. He latched onto your wrist, silently begging you not to go.

"I'm really tired, Toji. So fucking tired," you whispered.

Toji took your by the waist, pulling you closer to his body and you tried to protest. You stiffened your hands on his biceps, wanting to keep the space between your bodies but he wouldn't let you. Toji couldn't afford to give you space right now. Not when you sounded like you wanted to pull away from everything.

"I'm gonna make it up to you," he promised. As if his promises were any good. Your gaze was elsewhere- to the side of him, on the floor, past his head. Anywhere but his eyes.

"I should've called you." His lips found your cheek, kissing away the single tear that trailed down your skin. His hands snaked tighter around your frame, encasing you, trapping you in his affection.

"I' fucked up, okay? Look at me." Consoling you for a mistake he made was hard enough. The sincerity and vulnerability that came with being in a relationship is something that Toji had to dig deep to find. It was hundreds of feet below his tough exterior that he has meticulously built and hardened over the years, but he would chip it away to give you his heart. If you were still willing to put up with all of his bullshit.

"Look at me," he said again. Ordering you to... pleading for you to. When you spare him a glance he felt his chest open up. Your lashes clumped together in spikes as you blinked up at him with a look stained with apprehension.

"You think I'm easy," you muttered.

"Stop putting words in my mouth," he said. Toji cupped your chin and tilted your head up. You resisted it stubbornly at first, but he would stay there for as long as it took. When you tipped your head up to him, he kissed the corner of his mouth with all the softness he could muster up. So tenderly he wasn't even sure he touched your skin but you sighed. The tension in your body melted ever so slightly.

"What do I gotta do to make it up to you?" Another kiss on the other side of your mouth. Firmer, needier. He resisted the urge to take your lips fully, but even the corner of your mouth made him ache for you.

You stopped pushing him away. That was a good sign. There was a chance. "I don't know," you mumbled. "I don't know."

"Come on, ma. Tell me what you want."

You looked like you were deciding just how serious Toji was this time. He didn't deserve your patience but you gave it to him anyways. "I want to spend time with you, Toji. And I don't always want it to be after the sunsets but before the sun rises. It's like I'm in a relationship with a ghost. You're holding me now but then you'll leave without a trace." You avereted your eyes. Toji was plunged back in darkness. "I'm getting tired of it all."

"You want me to leave?"

It was unfair of him to push it back on you, he knew that, but he has never played fair in his life. Toji would do whatever you wanted him to... as long as you didn't really want him to leave you. He doesn't think he could at this point. He didn't even realize he was holding his breath until you spoke again.

"No. No I don't," you said quietly. You bit your bottom lip and nestled your cheek into his hand. "I miss you so fucking much but you're just gonna do this shit again."

"I'll work something out," he whispered on your lips. You still wanted him. He was selfish, he was greedy, and he slipped his tongue in your mouth. You moaned, clutching the fabric on his chest as you got swept up in his advances. You had on that lip gloss that he always found amusing, the one that left his lips cool and tingling. He drank you in, leaving no way for you to shy away. He needed you, and for reasons he couldn't understand, you still wanted him too.

"Give me another chance, yeah? You won't regret it."

You had no reason to believe him. You should've kicked him out the second you had the strength to, but you were weak to his advances. Toji knew that, and he used it to his benefit. He kissed your jaw, neck and shoulder. You were obsessed with each other leaving was never going to be easy.

"One last chance."

"That's all I'm asking for."

M.list || Twitter || Ao3

[postracehair]

detour

george russell x reader | 1.8k

you get in a car crash. a very handsome and very familiar man stops to help.

cw: fem!reader, car crash, blood, minor injuries. george is the star, alex in the background because he's a sweetie. hospitals and some flirting. short and sweet!

a/n: first time trying him out, but any excuse to write george saying blimey. --

Later, you'll be able to recall it in flashes.

The empty road, the voice telling you which way to go slightly patchy due to weak signal. The setting sun coloring the sky a brilliant pink, a sense that you might be lost. Waiting for the light to turn green, not a car in sight. It does, and you ease your way through the crossroads. Then -- an awful sound, spinning, closing your eyes and bracing yourself. A sharp pain, no air in your lungs, an eerie silence and then the squeal of tires.

In the moment, it takes you a few breaths to figure out what's happened. One thing at a time, you think. Wiggle toes -- check. Fingers? Check. You can see that the airbag has deployed, which explains the soreness of your chest but it doesn't hurt to breathe. Slowly, you unbuckle your seatbelt and notice that there's blood down the front of your shirt.

"Fuck," you mutter. Your forehead is tacky with it and you wince. Your neck feels a bit stiff and when you turn your head to the side too quickly your vision swims. "Oh, god."

A few moments to rest, then. You need to find your phone and call for help. The sun is almost down and there are no cars back here -- how on earth did someone hit you and drive away?

The longer you sit there the more your head starts to pound. A whisper says you shouldn't fall asleep because -- why? You can't find the word. What were you meant to be doing? Oh, your phone. Where is it? You don't see it by the gear shift, maybe it fell under the seat. God, bending over sends a rush of blood that has you groaning. Plan B. Sit here a little longer.

You're trying valiantly to keep your eyes open when you hear it -- an engine. It gets closer and closer and you expect it to pass you by but the car comes to an abrupt stop and someone gets out.

"Call 999!" they shout. Sounds like a man. "Blimey, there's blood on the window."

A shape appears and the car door opens and there stands -- a man. A tall man. He crouches down so you can see his face. Big blue eyes and a square jaw, pieces of fringe curling over his forehead. Pretty, your bruised brain supplies.

"Hello," he says gently. "Are you alright?"

"Where did you come from?" you ask. His features swim a bit but something is nagging at you. "I think I know you."

His brows furrow. "Alex," he calls behind him. "Are they coming?"

"Yeah," someone shouts back. "They're asking how she is."

The man's attention returns to you. "I'm George, and that's Alex. We're going to help you, okay?" You grunt an assent. "Now, I'm not a doctor," he says, "but do you think you can tell me where you're hurt?"

You try to focus. "I don't think anything is broken. But my head --" You reach for your forehead again but George catches your wrist with long fingers before you can.

"Think you hit it on the window," he explains. "Best not to touch it. Bit of a nasty cut."

Suddenly, you're desperate to get out of the car. "Can you -- I need to --" You tug at the seatbelt.

"George," the other man calls. Alex.

"Concussion," George says. "I think. Mate, I don't know. She's not slurring, but she's confused."

He reaches over you and unbuckles the seatbelt. You swing your legs out of the car and try to stand up. George quickly grabs your hands as you sway.

"Woah," he says. "Are you sure you want to --"

This close it's apparent how tall he is and recognition sparks once again. "I swear I know you from somewhere," you repeat, but it comes out as a croak.

"Do you?" he says lightly. "Alex, can I have the water bottle?"

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to focus. Fuck, your head hurts. It's like the ability to think clearly has simply left you.

"Yeah, you --," you look at him again. He's got a plastic bottle in one hand now, black with a teal wording on it that you recognize. "You...drive cars."

"Well done," George says, smiling. "Do you want some of this?" He hands it to you when you nod and you take slow sips. He keeps a hand lightly on your elbow.

Something occurs to you. "You didn't hit me, did you?" You're pretty sure he didn't but everything is so muddled.

"No," he says, firmly. "No, I promise I didn't." He gently turns you so you're facing the car. It's not a pretty sight. "I think some wanker clipped you at the rear and send you spinning into the pole."

The driver's side tail light is totally shattered and you see that he's right -- the light pole is firmly lodged into the passenger side door.

"Fuck," you whisper. "Where's the other car?" you ask. You know this, you think, but can't put the pieces together.

George lets out an angry huff. "Drove away, looks like."

You frown. "Well, that's not very nice." Your head pounds again and you groan. "I think I need to --"

"Woah, woah," George says. "Let's sit down."

He guides you to his car and helps you down into the passenger seat. You keep your feet firmly on the ground and take more sips of his water.

"What's your name?" he asks, crouching down to speak to you. He's so tall you're almost eye level. "Can you remember that?"

"I'm not that bad off," you scoff, and tell him. "And you --" The piece slots into place. "You're George Russell."

He grins at you. "I'm flattered," he says. "How's the head?"

You press your eyes closed tight. "Hurts," you say. "Am I still bleeding?"

"Not terribly," he replies. "It'll be alright. I think I hear --"

The siren hits your ears, cutting him off. "That's loud," you mutter. George squeezes your knee and stands.

He takes a step towards your ruined car. "Where are you going?" you ask. It sounds like a whine but you can't find it in you to care.

"Just going to get your things," he says lightly. "So you have them in hospital."

"Oh," you breathe. You allow him to walk across the road and lean into your car, searching for your stuff. He manages to find your phone and sets your purse at your feet just as the ambulance pulls up, siren blessedly off.

You look up at George. "Thank you," you say. "Thank you so much --"

He waves you off. "Please," he says. "Listen, I've put my contact in your phone, and I'll get your car sorted, alright?"

"Are you --" Before you can ask him more, the paramedics take over. You're asked questions, given a few quick tests, while George speaks to one of them off to the side. They load you into the back of the ambulance.

"I'll see you later, okay?" he calls. You just nod and lean back on the bed. The doors are shut and you're on your way.

"Nice bloke," one of the paramedics says. "Never met him before. More of a Red Bull man, myself, but glad he was decent. Do you know him?"

You blink. It's very bright in here. "No," you say. "No, he just stopped to help."

"See?" the man says again. "Decent sort. Now, if he could just get a decent racing car --"

__

Since George gave you your stuff, you manage to call the necessary people to tell them what's happened.

"Few bruises tomorrow," the nurse tells you. She's cleaned your forehead and butterfly bandaged it. "But no stitches. You're a lucky one. Now, that blow to your head isn't too bad, but do try to take it easy. Nothing more than some walks and stay off your phone and TV if you can help it for a week or so."

You nod, thankful for the painkillers she's had you swallow. The throbbing has dulled and you can think a little more clearly.

"Now, last thing," she says. Is she...smirking at you? "You said you've got a ride, but there's a very handsome man waiting for you, too."

"What?" you say. You've called a friend and she's going to pick you up but...is George here?

The nurse taps her nose and tells you you're free to go.

You slowly walk back to the waiting room, unsure of what you'll find. But as soon as you're through the doors, you hear your name.

George unfolds himself from one of the chairs and you meet in the middle. You really thought he'd just call, or something, to tell you about the car. But he's here.

"There you are," he says, as though you've been parted for eons. "I wanted to make sure you're alright."

"I'm alright," you tell him. He smiles and takes a step towards you, eyes on your forehead.

"That doesn't look too bad now," he says. "Shame about your shirt, though." His hand hovers in the air near your face like he wants to touch you, but he doesn't.

He's right about your shirt -- it's a lost cause. Collar soaked in blood and the front looking like you were an extra in a horror movie.

You shrug. "Not how I thought my day would go."

George winces. "I'd imagine not," he says. "Listen, I've sorted the car. A tow company has it and I'll send you their information. It's a bit of a lost cause, the bloke said, but I've given them your name and number and if you call your insurance --"

You put a hand on his arm. He's warm through the fabric of his sweater. He stops speaking immediately.

"George," you say, softly. "Thank you." He blinks at you, eyes remarkably blue, before he gives you an easy smile.

"Of course," he says. "I'm just glad we came along."

"Me too." You let him go and swallow.

"Do you need a ride?" he says, suddenly. "Alex has just gone to get petrol but he'll be back and we can take you anywhere you need to go."

Your chest tightens with regret. Objectively unnecessary, since you don't know this very famous man, but you wish you could say yes all the same.

"I've called my friend, actually," you say gingerly. "She's coming to get me."

"Good." George runs a hand through his hair, that brown fringe falling over his forehead the way it did when he crouched next to you back at the accident scene. "Good, I'm glad."

Today has been wild, absolutely the last thing you expected. A car crash, meeting this man, ending up in hospital. It occurs to you that anything is possible. You're lucky the crash wasn't worse, and maybe that spurs you to say it.

"I'd love to thank you for today," you say to him, shoulders square. You make yourself look him in the eye. "Alex, too. Lunch, maybe? Once I'm over this concussion?"

You've surprised him, if his expression is anything to go by. Then he grins. "Yes," he says. "I'd love that." His grin shifts into a smirk. "Alex might be busy, though."

You grin back. "Is that so? Too bad."

[formulaxwriting]

Ollie bearman x reader

Sleeping beauty

Warnings : none

Today it was Randomly raining in Brazil after a few dry days. Every driver and wag were waiting to see if Qualifying was on , If it wasn’t it meant a day for most wags , going out for food or even at the beach but that was a bit different for Ollie and his Girlfriend Y/n Y/l/n.

Ollie and Y/n. Have been dating for 5 months and quickly became the talk of the paddock.since they started dating Y/n was still in the garage seeing what was happening. She was talking with one of the Haas staff wondering what was going on, she didn’t see all hugging the tires trying not to fall asleep it was the cutest thing in the world,

As she turned around , that’s when she saw Ollie trying not to fall asleep on the tires . She excused herself from the staff member, making her way over to Ollie who had his eyes closed .she gently played with his hair knowing it was a long tiring day

“Ollie…baby you can’t fall asleep right here “ she mumbled , looking at him all she got out of Ollie was a soft groan . She looked at the tall brunette taking her hand out of his hair knowing that was making him fall asleep, she heard him mutter something with his eyes still closed . She couldn’t make out what he said

“What did you say “ she said softly , sitting on the edge of the chair that Ollie was also sitting she looked at the tired boy . She felt a pang of guilt knowing how much he wanted to sleep

“I said I hope quali is tomorrow so we can go and go the hotel and cuddle “ Ollie mumbled , looking into her beautiful blue eyes . He moved his hair to her hair softly taking it out the claw clip , He tossed the claw clip to the side running his hand trough her beautiful blonde hair , he looked at his stunning girlfriend grateful that he had such an amazing good luck charm

“Hopefully I think we all need it , it’s the end of season near enough everyone is tired “ Y/n said , gently grabbing Ollie’s hand and gently rubbing it to keep his hand warm . She was in Ollie’s Haas coat as she forgot to bring her own coat to the track no one expected the rain

“Woah…that’s definitely not save that’s so much rain “ he mumbled , looking outside someone could get hurt in the rain or even ill . Ollie perked up when they announced that the qualifying would be postponed to tomorrow. He got off the chair going into his driver room and grabbing his bag.

“Let’s go and get you some sleep “ she grabbed some stuff , leaving the paddock with many umbrellas up they both walked hand in hand to the car . When they got into the car Y/N saw Ollie trying not to fall asleep as it was the cutest thing she’s ever seen

They arrived to the hotel as they got to the door and it opened. Ollie threw his bags down getting into bed and going to fall asleep immediately he didn’t care he was in his Hass uniform all he wanted was sleep

“Come cuddle “ Ollie pulled you close , immediately falling asleep as soon as his head hit your chest , his slow breathing took over the room and the sound of the rain hitting the window

y/n looked down , she played with Ollie’s hair and slowly felt herself dosing off into a peaceful sleep with Ollie in her arms

Hi everyone:) this was my first ever writing I hope you enjoyed it Ollie trying not to fall asleep on the tires were so cute . I hope this sleep aid ( kinda ) helps you sleep , I hope you can forgive any mistakes English isn’t my first language if I’ve mad any mistakes let me know kindly and I’ll fix them 💙

[raizellover1]

Your strict boss

Heeseung × fem!reader

War: 18+ not allowed for kids

Heeseung is the CEO where you work. He is known as a very strict boss.

One day, you came late to the office because you overslept. You rush into your room.

Unfortunately, when you entered your room, Heeseung was already waiting in front of the door, crossing his arms.

"Miss, why are you late?" he asked in a cold tone. You looked at him with nervous expression, and your hands were shaking, and you spoke. "I was overslept...." You said. "Mhm, you overslept, didn't you?" Heeseung saw your disheveled appearance, messy hair and sleepy eyes. "And you dare to come to the office in such state, you know the rule, right?" Heeseung's eyes narrowed.

You nodded and nervous and heeseung steps closer to you with cold expression. "Kneel." he ordered you, pointing to the floor. "You know what happens when you break the rules, right?" Heeseung unbuttoned his suit jacket, sitting on the edge of your desk, staring down at you. "Now, punish yourself."

Heeseung's face contorted into a displeased grimace, his eyes glinting coldly. "Ten. And don't you dare to let out a single sound." Heeseung's voice was low, almost menacing. "Now, start counting."

Heeseung watched unblinkingly as you slowly raised your hand and brought it down onto your thigh with a sharp slap. The sound echoed through the room, but you stayed silent, biting your lip. "One..." you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Keep going."

Heeseung's expression remained stoic as he watched you continue to punish yourself, the sound of flesh hitting flesh filling the room. "Eight..." you whispered, your voice thick with unshed tears. "Last two..." Heeseung murmured, his eyes locked onto yours.

"Ten." You finished the count, your hand throbbing from the repeated slaps. You looked up at Heeseung, your eyes red and puffy from holding back tears. "Good."Heeseung stood up, buttoning his suit jacket.

"Now, come here." Heeseung beckoned you with his index finger, his face unreadable. He grabbed your chin, tilting your head up to meet his cold gaze. "You're dismissed. And remember, punctuality is key. Don't test my patience again."

He continued to talk. "Or else... we're having sex next punishment, if you late again..."

Heeseung released your chin, his touch ice cold. You nodded, your mind racing with thoughts of the new consequence he just imposed. You turned around and quickly left the room, your heart pounding in your chest. As you walked back to your desk, you vowed to never be late again.

The next morning, you arrive at the office early, determined to make a good impression. You're sitting at your desk, already working diligently when Heeseung enters. He pauses, looking slightly surprised to see you. "Well, well. Looks like someone learned their lesson." Heeseung approached your desk, his eyes scanning over the documents you were already working on. "Good. Keep this up." Heeseung praised, his voice still cold but slightly softer. "And remember, no more late arrivals. Unless you want... consequences."

Heeseung's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Now, get back to work. I have high expectations for you today." With that, he turned and walked away, his expensive suit hugging his athletic frame.

You took a deep breath, feeling both motivated and slightly flustered. You pushed aside the distracting thoughts and focused on your work, determined to meet and exceed Heeseung's expectations. The day passed quickly, and as you packed up to leave, you felt a sense of accomplishment.

As you were about to leave, Heeseung appeared at the door of his office, watching as the last of the employees left for the day. "You, stay behind." Heeseung called out to you, his voice echoing in the now empty office.

Heeseung walked towards you, his long strides eating up the distance between his office and your desk. He locked the office door, turning off the main lights, leaving only your desk lamp on. "Come here." Heeseung gestured to his office, his face inscrutable.

You hesitantly walked into his office, your heart pounding in your chest. Heeseung closed the door behind you, the click echoing ominously. "Today, you've exceeded my expectations." Heeseung began, walking closer to you. "So, I think you deserve a reward."

Heeseung reached out, slowly unbuttoning your blouse. His touch was gentle, almost reverent. You felt your breath hitch, your body tensing in anticipation. "Shh..." Heeseung whispered, his fingers brushing against your skin as he finished unbuttoning your shirt. You were nervous. "W-What are you doing???"

Heeseung paused, his hands resting on your shoulders. He looked into your eyes, his gaze intense and smoldering. "I'm rewarding you, as I said. You've been so good today."

Heeseung leaned in close, his breath fanning against your neck. Heeseung unzipped your skirt, letting it drop to the floor. He stepped back, taking in your appearance. Heeseung murmured, his voice low and approving. "Now, sit." Heeseung guided you to sit on the edge of his desk. He spread your legs, stepping between them. Heeseung's hands roamed over your body, caressing your curves through the thin fabric of your underwear.

Heeseung's touch was gentle yet firm, igniting a fire within you. He leaned in, pressing his lips to your neck, kissing and sucking gently. You let out a soft moan, your hands gripping the edge of the desk for support. "Shh... quiet..."

Heeseung continued to kiss and nuzzle your neck, his hands moving to your underwear. He slowly slid them down your legs, letting them pool at your feet. He stood back up, admiring your bare legs before kneeling in front of you. "Spread your legs wider." You hesitantly spread your legs wider, your face flushed with embarrassment. Heeseung slowly leaned in, pressing his mouth to your inner thigh. He began to kiss and lick his way upwards, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you in place. your pussy revealed.

Heeseung's breath ghosted over your sensitive flesh before he buried his face between your legs. He licked and sucked at your pussy, his tongue delving deep inside you. Heeseung's hands gripped your ass, spreading your cheeks apart to get a better view. "Mmm... so pretty."

Heeseung's tongue worked overtime, lapping at your pussy with relentless enthusiasm. He sucked on your clit, flicking it with his tongue before returning to eat out your pussy. Your hands gripped his hair, holding him in place as he devoured you. "Fuck... you taste so good."

You moaned, you feel his tongue on your clit and your eyes roll back. Heeseung looked up at you, his face glistening with your juices. He smiled, pleased with himself before returning to his task. He used both hands to spread your pussy lips wide, exposing your g-spot directly to his tongue. "Gonna make you scream my name."

Heeseung's tongue was merciless as he attacked your most sensitive spot. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, keeping you spread wide for his feasting. You squirmed and moaned, your hands tangling in his hair as the pressure built up within you. "H-Heeseung..." Heeseung doubled his efforts, sucking hard on your clit as his fingers thrust deep inside your pussy. He curled them just right, stroking your g-spot with expert precision. Your walls clenched around his digits as he finger fucked you hard and fast.

Heeseung's fingers pistoned in and out of you, filling you completely. Your moans grew louder, your body tensing as you neared your release. Heeseung's mouth found yours, swallowing your cries as he brought you to the edge and pushed you over. your entire body shook as she came hard, your pussy clenching around Heeseung's fingers. He kept sucking and licking, prolonging your orgasm until she was a quivering mess. As you finally started to come down, Heeseung stood up, his face still dripping with your juices.

Heeseung unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, freeing his hard, throbbing cock. He stroked it a few times, coating it in his pre-cum before stepping closer to you. He grabbed your thighs, spreading them even wider. "Time for me to get my reward."

Heeseung positioned himself at your entrance, his hands gripping your hips tightly. He slowly pushed forward, his thick head popping inside you. He paused, allowing you to stretch around him before pushing deeper, inch by inch, until he was fully seated inside you. "You're so tight..."

You moaned loudly and your saliva dripping on your cleavage, and Heeseung started to move, his hips snapping forward in a relentless rhythm. He pounded into you hard and fast, his cock slamming against your g-spot with every thrust. The desk rattled and shook, your body bouncing on the edge as he fucked you senseless. "Fuck, I love your pussy."

Heeseung's hands roamed your body, squeezing your breasts, gripping your thighs, tangling in your hair. His face was buried in your neck, his breathing hot and heavy. His movements became more urgent, his hips slamming against yours with bruising force. "Gonna come inside you."

Heeseung's pace became erratic, his thrusts shallow and fast. He let out a low groan, his body stiffening as he reached his release. He filled you with his release, his hot seed spilling deep inside you.

He panted heavily, his weight collapsing onto you, his head nestled in the crook of your neck. His arms wrapped tightly around your body, holding you close as he caught his breath. The desk creaked in protest, but neither of you moved, too spent to care. After a long moment, Heeseung lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours. A slow, satisfied smirk spread across his face. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss, tasting himself on your tongue. "Mmm... not bad for a quick fuck at work."

Heeseung slowly pulled out of you, his softening cock slipping from your well-used pussy. He tucked himself back into his pants before offering you a hand up. "Come on, let's clean up. Can't have you walking around with my cum leaking out of you."

You looked at him and you spoke "why are you doing me this? I'm a Virgin!!" Heeseung's expression softened slightly as he looked at you, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "Shh, it's okay. I know you're a virgin. But I just can't help myself around you. You're so innocent and pure... it drives me wild."

[mediocre-shark-tales]

Azerbajian GP Weekend

Masterlist

Thursday had arrived, and so had the media frenzy. It was the traditional pre-race press day, and the interview room was buzzing with journalists and cameras ready to capture every word and reaction. I was scheduled for a multi-driver interview, paired with Franco, Carlos, Max, and Oscar—a mix of veterans and rookies, all bringing their own energy to the room. I was feeling confident, prepared to answer whatever questions were thrown my way, until I noticed a few familiar faces among the journalists—faces I remembered from whispers in the paddock.

After a few light-hearted questions aimed at Carlos and Max, the interview shifted gears when a well-known journalist turned to me with a sharp look in his eyes.

“So, Y/N,” he began, voice dripping with a tone that already felt accusatory, “there’s been a lot of talk about your rapid rise to F1, especially after missing significant time in F2. Some might say that… connections or publicity stunts might be part of the story here rather than pure skill.” He leaned back, a smug smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What do you say to people who think you’re here for PR reasons, rather than merit?”

My stomach clenched, but I kept my face calm. This was it—the subtle way they were calling me out, questioning if I was here because of talent or if I was just a “diversity hire” in a sport still catching up with the times. I could feel the tension in the room rise as Carlos and Max glanced at me, both of them experienced enough to know what it was like to be grilled by the press.

I took a deep breath, feeling Franco’s reassuring presence beside me. He shot me a quick nod, like he was silently encouraging me to respond.

“Well,” I began, keeping my voice calm and steady, “I think every driver here has something to prove. Racing is about results, and I’m fully prepared to show what I’m capable of on the track. I know there’s a lot of speculation, and it’s natural—every driver faces it at some point. I’m here because I’ve earned this seat. And I’ll keep proving that every weekend.”

The journalist wasn’t done. He leaned forward, raising an eyebrow. “Still, disappearing for months mid-season in F2 and then suddenly being ready to jump into F1… it does raise some eyebrows. Care to elaborate on where you were?”

My heart raced. Memories flooded in—of the sleepless nights by my mother’s side, of the last few precious moments we shared. I felt the urge to defend myself, to tell the whole story right there, but I knew better. I took another breath, holding my smile steady.

“As my former team and I have always said, I was undergoing extensive training to prepare for the reserve role I’d committed to with Aston Martin. My team has full confidence in me, and that’s all the focus I’m giving it,” I replied, keeping my tone professional. I felt proud of my answer, but I could tell the journalist was disappointed by my restraint.

Max jumped in, breaking the tension with his classic cool-headedness. “You know, there are always rumors about all of us. It’s all just noise until we’re on track, isn’t it?”

The journalist backed off slightly, though I could tell he wasn’t convinced. Franco shot me a supportive look, mouthing a quick “Nice one” as the attention moved to another driver. I took a deep breath, reminding myself to stay composed. My mother’s voice echoed in my mind, reminding me of all the reasons I was here.

After the interview wrapped up, Franco walked over and gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Forget him. That was out of line. You handled it well.”

“Thanks,” I replied, my voice a bit shaky. “I just didn’t expect that to hit so hard, you know?”

He nodded, his eyes kind. “I know. But you showed them that you belong here. Keep doing that, and everyone else will see it too.”

As we left the interview room, Franco nudged me, a curious look in his eyes. "Did you notice how quickly Max jumped in? It’s like he was standing up for you."

I shrugged, glancing back at the room we’d just left. "I don’t know if it was for me specifically," I replied. "Max just seems to hate when journalists get too personal. He probably saw the question as crossing a line. He’s always been a no-nonsense guy."

Franco didn’t seem convinced. "Maybe, but... he didn’t have to say anything at all. A lot of other drivers wouldn’t." He paused, as if carefully choosing his next words. "Look, I’ve been around these drivers a while now, and I know how they talk. I think Max might be one of the few drivers who’s actually looking at what you do on track, not paying attention to those rumors.”

I hesitated, not sure how to process that. “Maybe,” I conceded. “But why would he? He doesn’t know me.”

“Maybe he’s seen the work you’re putting in,” Franco said thoughtfully. “He knows what it’s like to face doubt—he started young too. Besides,” he added, “Max respects hard work. He wouldn’t have stood up for you if he didn’t think you’ve earned your place.”

I wanted to believe Franco, but I couldn’t help being skeptical. “You might be giving him too much credit,” I said. “Honestly, I still think it was more about hating the question than defending me.”

Franco laughed. “Maybe you’re right. Max isn’t exactly Mr. Empathy. But I think he respects that you’ve been keeping your head down and just focusing on racing. People who’ve been on the grid longer can spot real talent, and he wouldn’t bother standing up for you if he didn’t see something there.”

I looked down, smiling to myself. The thought that Max might see past all the gossip and actually believe in my abilities was… a little surreal. But if Franco was right, it meant something. "You know," I said quietly, "maybe that’s enough for now. If I can prove myself to someone like Max, maybe that’s all I need to do for the rest to start paying attention."

Franco nodded. “Exactly. Let them talk. Just keep showing up on track and doing what you do best. You’re already turning heads, whether they admit it or not.”

We walked on in comfortable silence after that, both of us aware that this race weekend would be another chance. Another shot to show everyone—including myself—that I had a place here, no matter who questioned it. 

We parted ways minutes later, Franco being asked to return to his garage for a filming session between him and Alex. I decided to walk around the paddock a bit more —given that most if not every interviewer was in the interview room right now— I had a chance to relax by myself with a nice little undisrupted wandering walk. It didn’t last long however before I was seemingly cornered by the same man who had stood up for me before. Max Verstappen had spotted me from across the paddock and beelined his way right towards me. 

I froze for a moment, a bit caught off guard. Max was one of the last people I expected to seek me out, especially after that brief encounter in the interview room. He was known for being straightforward, but also for keeping to himself, so seeing him walk toward me like this felt... unexpected.

As he approached, I straightened up, unsure of what to say. Max had that usual intense focus in his eyes, but his expression didn’t seem as cold as it often did. He came to a stop in front of me, his hands tucked in his jacket pockets.

“Hey,” he said, his tone casual but direct. "How are you holding up?"

I blinked, momentarily surprised by the question. "I’m good," I replied quickly, forcing a small smile. “Why do you ask?”

Max looked around the paddock, as if checking to make sure no one else was nearby. When he turned back to me, he spoke a little lower. “Just wanted to make sure you’re not letting the stuff they’re saying get to you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What stuff?”

He shrugged, his expression softening a little. “The gossip. The rumors. People are always going to talk, especially when there’s something new, or something they don’t understand.” He paused for a second, looking at me seriously. “But you’ve been doing well. I can see it.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. It was... unexpected, to say the least. Max wasn’t exactly the type to give out compliments, let alone stand up for someone in public, especially someone like me. The fact that he was acknowledging it so openly made me second-guess a lot of my assumptions about him.

"Thanks," I said, my voice more tentative than I intended. "I appreciate it."

Max nodded. "I know how it feels to be judged before you even get the chance to show what you can do. It’s not easy." He paused again, and then, almost like an afterthought, added, "If you need someone to talk to or whatever, don’t hesitate."

I was caught off guard once more. Max Verstappen, offering to talk?

"Uh, thanks," I replied, this time more confidently. "I think I’ll be alright, but it’s good to know."

He gave me a small nod, a glimmer of respect in his eyes. “Good. Keep your head up, alright? They’ll respect you, eventually. Just keep showing up.”

With that, he turned and walked off, leaving me standing there a little dumbfounded. The last thing I expected was for Max Verstappen to go out of his way to check on me, but now I was left wondering if there was more to him than just the hard-as-nails racer everyone saw on TV. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as bad as the rumors made him out to be either.

BIG TIME SKIP 

After Qualifying, I couldn’t help but smile—P10! I’d made it into the top 10, just behind Franco who had secured P9. We were both on cloud nine and decided to grab dinner together to celebrate. We were walking out of the paddock, laughing and joking, when I suddenly heard someone shout Franco’s name.

“Franco! Where are you going?” Lando’s voice rang out across the busy paddock.

Both Franco and I turned, surprised. We saw Lando and Oscar jogging toward us, the latter giving me a fleeting glance. Lando, on the other hand, didn’t spare me a single glance. His eyes were locked on Franco, his tone sharp.

Franco, clearly still riding the high of a great qualifying result, gave him a friendly wave. “Hey, just heading out to grab some dinner. Want to join us?”

Oscar’s eyes lingered on me for a brief moment, and I could swear I saw something akin to pity flicker across his face, but it disappeared so quickly that I couldn’t be sure. Lando, however, didn’t acknowledge me at all, his gaze still glued to Franco.

“I’m good,” Lando replied curtly, his tone flat. “We’ll catch up later. But I’ve heard... you two are quite the topic today.”

Franco shot me a quick glance, clearly uncomfortable, but said nothing as Lando’s words hung in the air. I could feel his eyes shift between me and Franco, clearly sizing up the situation. The tension was palpable, and I knew exactly what he was referring to. The rumors.

“So, uh, what’s it like?” Lando continued, his voice now almost too casual, his gaze flicking over to me. “Being the new face around here, with all the... stories going around?”

Oscar, standing silently at Lando’s side, seemed content to watch the exchange, though his eyes flicked to me, then back to Lando. I could tell he wasn’t quite sure where this conversation was headed.

I wasn’t sure if Lando was looking for confirmation or if he was trying to provoke a reaction, but either way, I wasn’t going to let him get away with it. The judgment in his tone wasn’t subtle, and I wasn’t about to let it slide.

“Stories?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow as I turned toward him. “What kind of stories?”

Lando shifted uncomfortably, clearly caught off guard by my question, but he quickly recovered. “You know,” he said with a shrug, trying to sound nonchalant. “The whole... why you suddenly disappeared from F2, then came in and replaced Stroll and all that. Guess people are curious and there are a lot of people willing to tell their stories to fill that gap in.”

Oscar’s eyes darted between us, a slight frown tugging at his lips, but he said nothing. I could see the judgment in Lando’s face now, and I couldn’t ignore it any longer.

“I’m not here to entertain gossip,” I replied, my voice steady but firm. “I don’t know where these ‘stories’ came from, but you’re feeding into them just like everyone else. How about you let me speak for myself? Maybe then you’ll get the real story.”

Franco opened his mouth to speak, likely trying to defuse the situation, but I held up a hand to stop him. I wasn’t going to let Lando get away with it.

“If you really think that just because of my background in this sport, you’re going to judge me on rumors instead of what I can do on track,” I said, my tone cutting through the air, “then maybe you should reconsider how much you actually know from sources that don’t include bias perspectives.”

Lando’s face twitched, and for a moment, I could see the flicker of realization in his eyes. He wasn’t used to being called out so directly. But he wasn’t backing down either.

“Look, I didn’t mean—” he started, but I cut him off sharply, my tone colder than before.

“No, you didn’t mean it,” I snapped, my eyes narrowing. “But you’re still doing it. So maybe before you speak about things you clearly know nothing about, you should think twice. Because I’m not here to be the subject of your gossip.”

The air between us grew tense, and the silence stretched on. Oscar, who had been quietly observing, exchanged a glance with Lando but stayed silent. I could feel the weight of Lando’s eyes on me, but I refused to back down.

“Is that really how it’s going to be?” I asked, my voice hard. “You think you can just judge me based on some rumor mill nonsense without even knowing me? Maybe you should consider that there’s more to me than whatever the hell people want to say about my past. What happens on track is all that should matter. But if you’re still buying into that crap, then maybe you’re not the person I thought you were.”

Lando’s jaw tightened, and I could tell that I had struck a nerve. He didn’t immediately respond, instead glancing at Oscar, who now had a slightly concerned look on his face. Lando shifted on his feet, clearly unsure of how to respond to someone calling him out so forcefully.

“I get it, alright?” Lando muttered, but there was no real sincerity in his voice. “But you’ve got to admit, there’s a lot of speculation.”

I rolled my eyes, the frustration bubbling up inside me. “Speculation is exactly what it is. And it’s none of your business, Lando. What matters is that I’m here, racing, and proving myself every time I get behind the wheel. Maybe if you focused more on that, you’d see it for what it is, instead of judging me based on some stupid rumors.”

I paused for a moment, letting the silence linger between us before I spoke again, my voice sharpening. “And honestly, with all the rumors floating around that you’re a big fan of Trump after some of the things you’ve said in Miami? I’m not surprised you’re so quick to jump on the bandwagon and believe whatever fits the narrative. It’s easier to go along with what the media says, right? But I don’t listen to that stuff. I judge people by their actions, not by what the tabloids want to spin. You don’t know me, Lando, so stop acting like you do.”

I could see him bristle at my words, and for a moment, I could tell that what I said hit harder than he expected. It wasn’t about defending myself anymore—it was about standing up for the idea that I wouldn’t let others define me, especially when they hadn’t bothered to get to know the real me.

Lando’s expression flickered, a mix of frustration and something else—something I couldn’t quite place—passing across his face. For a moment, he was silent, clearly trying to process what I had just said. But I could tell I had made him think, even if just for a brief second.

He didn’t immediately apologize, which told me everything I needed to know. He wasn’t ready to back down yet. But I wasn’t done.

“Just stop hiding behind your assumptions, Lando,” I added, my voice firm. “It’s not a good look. You can’t just brush off people based on things you hear when there’s no real truth to it. It’s lazy, and frankly, it’s disappointing.”

Lando stood there, looking caught off guard by my directness. He wasn’t apologizing, not really. But I could see that I had planted a seed. Maybe it would take a while for him to truly get it, but at least for now, I had made my point. And I wasn’t about to let anyone walk over me—especially not when I knew I was capable of so much more than the rumors said.

“I... didn’t realize it was that big of a deal,” he said, his voice a little quieter now. “I’m just trying to keep up with everything going on around here.” “Well, try harder,” I shot back, my tone biting. “Because if you can’t see past the rumors, you’re just as bad as the rest of them.”

With that, I turned away, my heart still racing with anger. I didn’t want his apology, not really. I wasn’t looking for anyone’s approval. But I wasn’t going to let anyone make me feel small just because they couldn’t look beyond what they heard. I walked away, leaving Lando and Oscar to whatever thoughts they were processing, knowing that I had made myself clear.

Franco, who had been watching from the sidelines, gave me an approving smile as I returned to his side. I didn’t need to look back to know that the tension between Lando and me wasn’t going to disappear anytime soon. But that was fine by me. It was time for me to prove myself on the track, and if Lando and the others had to learn the hard way, so be it.

[dee-writes-anime]

do you have any headcanons with soft yandere hawks?

Obsessed? No, Baby, this is Love

FEATURING Keigo 'Hawks' Takami i x Reader

SUMMARY He's not crazy and he means well, that's all! OR yandere hawks headcannons

CONTENT WARNINGS Hawks being overprotective, stalker tendencies, obsessions, and stuff like that!

AUTHORS NOTE I love making headcannons! They're pretty stress free and it's nice to take a break once and a while from plotting and writing and instead just being able to yap. Thanks for the request anon! <3

Constantly checking in

Hawks texts you more than a grandma on Facebook. It starts with a simple “Hey, how’s your day going?” but quickly spirals into 57 messages asking if you’re eating, sleeping, and possibly getting your required dose of love for the day. “I know you're fine, but just wanted to check—are you still breathing? Have you drank enough water, or should I remind you again?” You almost feel like you’re his pet, except, you know, way cuter.

He’ll “protect” you (a.k.a. hover over you)

His wings? They’re not just for flying, no. They’re like a personal shield that always shows up at the worst possible moments. You’ll be minding your business, and suddenly, there’s Hawks, hovering two inches behind you like a warm, feathery cloud. “Just here to keep an eye on you,” he says. And you’re like, Can I breathe though?

Who doesn't love surpise gifts?! (that double as surveillance devices)

Hawks loves to surprise you with thoughtful little trinkets, but they always come with just a touch of paranoia. “I saw this keychain and thought it’d be cute for you!” Sure, it’s cute… until you notice the tiny GPS tracker hidden inside it. “It’s for your safety,” he says with a wink. Right, Hawks. We all know it’s just in case someone tries to get too close to you. How sweet… and creepy.

Oh! Funny running into you here! :D

You think you’ve got your life together, doing errands, living your best independent life, but oh wait—here’s Hawks, just happening to be at the same café as you. “What a coincidence! I was just nearby!” Uh-huh, right. And I’m just shocked you also happened to bring coffee for both of us. It’s fine, though—he’s just making sure you’re not plotting to run off into the sunset with someone who doesn’t know your coffee order by heart.

He hides his jealousy so well! (can you hear his eye twitching?)

You ever see someone try to hide a full-on mental breakdown with a forced smile? Yeah, that’s Hawks when anyone looks at you for more than a second. Someone says “hi” to you at the grocery store? Expect a dramatic, almost cinematic shift in his vibe. His wing stiffens, the smile freezes, and you can practically hear the internal scream. “Oh, hey, did you want to buy something from their cart? I’m sure they don’t mind…” Sure, Hawks. Totally not possessive.

He's so sweet!... why is it almost scary?

At first, you think it’s sweet when Hawks remembers that you prefer a certain type of tea. Then you realize he’s tracking everything. “Remember when you said you liked that red dress from last summer? I got you a matching scarf!” And you're just standing there like, “Thanks? Are you trying to get me to fall in love with you or just lock me down forever?” His answer? “Both. But mostly the first one.”

Overprotective in the most (un)subtle way!

If you ever think you're going out for a “normal” night, you’re so wrong. “You don’t have to go out tonight, do you? It’s really cold out, and I’d hate for you to catch a cold.” Translation: “I’d prefer if you just stayed here and let me watch over you like a hawk (pun intended).” You try to resist, but then he hits you with the puppy eyes, and suddenly, you’re canceling plans to stay in and binge-watch Netflix with him… because clearly, you’re too important to be out in the world without him.

He's obsessed in love with the little things!

Hawks is obsessed with every single part of you, even the things you don’t notice. He’ll bring up the exact way you tap your foot when you’re anxious or how you always hum that one song when you’re about to do something important. “I thought you’d like these earrings because you always wear that shade of blue.” He’s scarily good at remembering everything. And you’d be a little worried if you weren’t so flattered by the fact that this man can’t get enough of you.

Bottom line? Hawks is like the perfect mix of sweet and “don’t you dare leave me alone for more than five minutes” obsession. But hey, at least you don’t have to worry about losing your keys, right? Because he’s got a tracker on everything—including your heart.

TAGLIST

@surielstea

[cherrynflowergarden]

જ⁀➴ bitter truths|| dealer!matt x doll!reader

sturniolo masterlist add yourself to the taglist

she should have been having a good time. the lights, the music, the chatter—it all felt like it should have lifted her spirits. but ever since her argument with matt, nothing felt right. she was here to distract herself, to put her thoughts somewhere other than the echo of his harsh and mean words but it seemed like it’s not working.

just as she was about to step outside for some air, she overheard a group talking. it was noah—and her heart sank as she caught a glimpse of his smirk, the words he was throwing around like she meant nothing to him.

“honestly, she’s just this clingy, naive girl,” noah said with a chuckle, taking a sip from his drink. “she’s so desperate to be liked, it’s almost pathetic. all you have to do is tell her what she wants to hear.”

she froze, his words hitting her like a punch to the chest. she could feel her face burning, shame rising as she realized what matt had been trying to warn her about. every warning he’d given, every harsh word—he’d been right. she’d trusted her new friend, convinced herself matt was wrong, but here she was, being torn apart behind her back by the very person she’d thought was her friend.

unable to bear any more, doll turned and slipped out to the porch, the cool night air hitting her like a wave. she took a shaky breath, feeling her chest tighten as matt’s words echoed in her head.

"you're just an easy target."

“i’m just trying to keep you from getting hurt. but you’re too stubborn, too naive to see that half these people only see you as an easy target.”

“anyone gives you a bit of attention, and you’re ready to trust them with anything.”

her heart twisted painfully as she sank down onto the porch steps, burying her face in her hands. matt had been looking out for her trying to protect her and she hadn’t trusted him. she’d pushed him away, ignored his calls and messages for days. she could still see his hurt, the way he’d looked at her when she’d walked away. and now, because of her own stubbornness, she’d lost him. maybe for good.

hot tears spilled down her cheeks, her sobs barely muffled by her hands. it was more than just noah’s betrayal—she’d felt this kind of hurt before. people using her, taking advantage of her kind heart. but matt, he was the one person who’d never done that. the one person who saw her for who she was and still cared enough to protect her.

a movement caught her eye. she looked up, wiping her face quickly, and froze as she saw matt stepping onto the porch. his expression was a mix of anger and worry, his gaze softening as he took in her tear-streaked face.

he was here. he’d come, even after everything.

“doll…” his voice was gentler than she’d expected, laced with concern.

she sniffled, trying to keep herself together, but the sight of him, standing there after everything, just made her tears fall harder. “i’m so sorry, matt,” she choked out. “you were right… about noah, about me, about everything. i should’ve listened to you. i… i was so stupid.”

“oh darling…” matt shook his head, moving closer until he was sitting beside her. he reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering for a moment. “no, doll. don’t do that to yourself. i shouldn’t have said those things to you. i was trying to protect you, but… i went about it all wrong.”

she looked down, guilt twisting in her stomach. “but you were just looking out for me, and i pushed you away. i was so hurt by what you said, but you were just… you were right.” her voice broke. “i thought noah was my friend, and i didn’t see how awful he was until now. and i… i didn’t see how much you cared.”

matt took a deep breath, his hand moving to rest on hers. “i know i came on too strong. i thought i had to make you see it right away… i just didn’t want to watch you get hurt, doll. not by someone who didn’t deserve you. you’re so… you’re so good. so kind. and people like him, they don’t get that. they don’t get you.”

she looked up, her eyes shimmering with tears. “but i hurt you, matt. i shut you out because i didn’t want to admit i’d made a mistake.”

he squeezed her hand gently, his gaze soft. “you don’t need to apologize, doll. you have every right to trust who you want. i should’ve respected that. i just… i got scared for you. and i took it out on you, made you feel small.” his voice cracked slightly. “i’m so sorry for that.”

she shook her head, blinking back fresh tears. “but you were the only one who really saw me. you didn’t want anything from me. you were just trying to protect me, and i threw it back in your face.” she took a shaky breath. “i thought i’d lost you forever, that you wouldn’t forgive me.”

his gaze softened even more, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he looked at her. “doll, you’re not losing me. not now, not ever. i’ll always be here for you. just… maybe next time, let me be here without having to be so damn harsh.”

she let out a small, shaky laugh, relief flooding through her as she looked at him. “i… i’ll try. and maybe… maybe i’ll be a little smarter about who i trust.” her voice was soft, almost teasing, but there was still sadness lingering in her eyes.

he reached out, gently cupping her cheek, wiping away the last of her tears with his thumb. “look, doll… i’m sorry for every word that hurt you. you deserve better than that, better than me telling you what to think or feel. just… just know i only wanted to protect you. but from now on, i’ll trust you to protect yourself. i believe in you, okay?”

she nodded, leaning into his touch, a warmth settling in her chest. “thank you, matt… for being here, for everything.”

they sat there in silence for a moment, the tension between them finally easing as the hurt began to fade. she looked up at him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “i missed you.”

he gave her a soft smile, brushing his thumb across her knuckles. “i missed you too, doll. now, c’mon… let’s get out of here. i’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

she smiled, wiping the last of her tears as she stood up, her heart feeling lighter than it had in days. “just… somewhere i can breathe. and maybe talk. i think i’ve had enough excitement for one night.”

matt stood up beside her, his hand never leaving hers as he led her off the porch and away from the party. and with every step they took, she felt the hurt and the regret start to slip away, replaced by the warmth of knowing that, even after everything, matt was still by her side.

days later, she spotted noah near the college courtyard, his usual cocky smirk was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a scowl as he avoided everyone’s eyes. his face was a patchwork of bruises and cuts. the swelling around his eye and the split in his lip made her stomach drop, but she didn’t need to guess who was behind it. matt’s fury was written all over noah’s battered and bruised appearance. a part of her was furious with matt for going this far, but deep down, she couldn’t deny the flicker of satisfaction that he’d stood up for her—even if it was messy, brutal, violent and undeniably him.

an; LONG AWAITED PART TWO AYY LET'S GOOO (it's been two days) (i have exams from monday and instead of studying i'm being a delusional writer🥰) your honour i love them ꒰⁠⑅⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠꒱⁠˖⁠♡ i wish my situationship was like matt but damn 😔

taglist; @mattsdolll @izzylovesmatt @mattsbow

[sourslip]

man getting to the end of act 1 I can't stop thinking about what things are gonna be like for Vi with everything happening as she goes thru her emo pit-fighter phase. when she got out of Stillwater, she was fueled by one goal- protect/save Powder. She ofc had a want for revenge against Silco, but I think especially with the last episode in S1 it was pretty clear to me at least that she had her priorities pretty straight on that front: Pow first, Silco second.

there was also a very clear pattern of Vi being unable to really, meaningfully adjust to how things had changed in the time she was away: most obvious is how her sister changed and Vi treating her as one-dimensional post-Stillwater (she wasn't just surprised by Jinx's joy committing violence in the S1E6 end fight with the Firelights, she was convinced that wasn't her sister but something Silco imposed on her Powder), and to an extent also with a lot of the Undercity starting to get behind aspirations of independence. And I think this season is shaping up to make that second point more important

Vi has a good heart like Vander said, and she of course was pointing out how much worse life got for people in the Undercity with shimmer and the Chembarons pulling the strings - and that is very much true and Ekko + the Firelights make a good contrast - but I think about how Vi told Vander "I grew up knowing that I'm less than them, that my place is down there. I want Powder to have more than that" and it sounds very much like Vi's internalized a lot of how Topsiders view the relationship between topside and the undercity, but that isn't how most people in the "present" see it in the Undercity.

Whether its Silco, Sevika, the other Chembarons, or Ekko and the Firelights, they don't have shame about being undercity. they don't see themselves as less than topside - they know topside thinks that and hate that, especially Silco, but that's not the same as believing it. I don't mean to say Vi admires topside or doesn't love the undercity she grew up in, but I think there's more than just "having a good heart" that made her focus more on the harm Silco was doing than seeing the potential for independence, and I think it has to do with her sense of identity as a person from the Undercity being stuck in the past

Vander made a choice to "keep the peace" between topside and bottom, but violence is a spectrum and the slow, small, casual violence of class inequality (particularly with environmental classism) the idea that what he's protecting is really is peace as in non-violence is very much open to challenge. what he did protect in effect was a power dynamic between the two - Greyson treated Vander as a leader, but it was clear she expected him to capitulate to the demands of topside. And Vander had to give something.

When Vi tried to take on that responsibility herself, she had a major moment of growth where the true weight of potential violence and conflict hit her and we saw her take on a more tempered protective role, but I think we also saw that view of "Topside/bottom" really crystallize - and she kept that all through Stillwater even when, outside prison, more people in the fissures started to see it as "Piltover and Zaun", not in a hierarchy, but actually separate. Piltover's condescension towards the Undercity wasn't internalized by everyone in the Undercity once Vi got out, it was just a reflection of their arrogance and was getting in the way of them respecting a distinct people that had an incredible ingenuity, its own economies, and its own political systems. Silco having Marcus under his thumb was big organized crime vibes yes, but it was also a reversal of the relationship between Vander and Greyson, and in a way it reflected the changing priorities and national identities of the people in the Undercity; from oppressed and resentful fissure folk, to political adversaries of topside actively involved in pushing for their own independence, and fighting for what they built

I think, as this season its shaping up to look like Jinx is being thrust into the revolutionary role, and the previews of the next act look like that's actually starting to matter to her - or she's now seeing what it means moreso than she did when Silco was around. the lady liberty French revolution painting pose from French animation studio Fortiche Jinx flag part in the intro with the realization/wonder/reverence in her expression makes me think she's now going to take on a leadership mantle that Vi thought she would assume as Vander's protegé, and it means that she won't just be a "loose cannon" throwing a wrench in political machinations anymore, she'll be an intentional, calculating player on the field.

I think S2 act 1 Vi was okay with killing Jinx only because her idea of Powder was like her idea of the undercity - stagnated in the past and ultimately one-dimensional with its inflexibility. but if she starts to see that the people of the undercity aren't just a hurt people rushing into war like she wanted to when she was a kid, but have become a nation with its own identity seeking sovereignty, and if she sees that Jinx now take up that mantle, I think that might shake her a lot. especially with the kid, Isha, attaching herself to Jinx - like Vi saw how panicked Jinx was that Isha threw herself in harm's way - that shook Vi in a few ways, and one of those i think is that Vi saw herself in Jinx for a moment. she saw a powerful woman accepting the risk to her own life be unwilling to risk the life of another, more vulnerable person that clearly had some care and connection to her. I think that split second Vi really saw her sister. she didn't see who she thinks of as Powder in her, and she didn't see who she thinks of as Jinx, she saw her sister. And I think that's going to shake Vi harder than anything.

the writers I saw said that Vi has always been a protector and the next arc will explore Vi without anyone to protect, and I think we can expect to see Vi to go through some painful realizations that the way she has been seeing things doesn't reflect how things really are now. Caitlyn doesn't need protecting in the way Vi had been protecting her anymore, just with bodily safety, now if anything Cait needs protection from further manipulation, but that's another thing. Jinx doesn't need protection from Silco, and maybe Piltover doesn't need protection from Jinx either if Jinx really does begin to temper into a leader, and anyone else Vi might protect doesn't need the protection Vi was expecting herself to give when she was a kid.

Vi seemed to spend a lot of effort repressing her feelings when it came to people that made her feel safe - she cared SO much about Vander, loved him and looked up to him so much, but didn't want to show it and was gutted when he was gone and she was left without someone to protect her. She then spent a decade in a prison system that had officers intentionally targeting her, so again no protection. she made a joke about Caitlyn being her hero when they were in the Firelight's hideout, but given how vulnerable she was in the Oil & Water bedroom scene, I think she was trying to mask being genuinely touched by how much Caitlyn was looking out for her. she got so uncomfortable she lashed out about her parents being killed by enforcers when Caitlyn healed her stab wound in S1, and I wouldn't be surprised if we see her get uncomfortable about having Loris look out for her now. But I think it might also just be the last straw for having her confront some really complicated feelings about wanting to feel safe but never safe enough to let that happen yes I'm still hurt by S2E3 and the betrayal she prob feels and how she expects people to only want or need her when she can protect them the way she thinks they need her to

[silverskye13]

Nex you can't do these things to me. I'm feeling so many emotions ahhhhh. I have been sitting on a snip inspired by this for a little while. I hope you don't mind me tacking it onto your post. I want people to see the art.

Uhhh. Tw wounds, wound description, character death, strangling

There were many times in his life when Helsknight's world moved in slow motion. It was a side-effect of adrenaline. The world slowed down and turned into quick, stuttering movements that were all instinct and spine. In that strange world of timeless reaction, there was no true emotion or memory. Sometimes he had no recollection of things he did or said, only the smeared impressions of breath and sensation and color. A half-life of movement.

Welsknight was coming for him, and his sword was a living thing in his hand, lightning and sinew. Helsknight was moving to meet it, cold prowess and surety. He could feel where their blades would meet like he could feel his own heartbeat, and his mind was charting his next sword strike after. A one-handed swing, and if the angle was right, he would snake his blade into the crook of Welsknight's arm where it would cripple his movements, and then--

And then Tanguish was there. His knife parried Helsknight's sword long before its fated arc. Tanguish was right there and he was commanding in a voice more loud and sure than Helsknight had ever heard him.

“I said stop!”

Helsknight felt it in his bones like thunder, a command that came from the soul. There was a brief, weightless, eternal moment; the space between heartbeats. Helsknight glared down at Tanguish incredulously, caught between surprise and rage. His coherent mind, the part in charge of speech and thought that faded out when he focused so hard on fighting, scrambled to attention and tried to find its reason. To make sense of what had just happened and respond to it. His instincts, the one that screamed he should keep fighting, and the one that screamed he needed to protect Tanguish, tripped over each other and tumbled into a witless heap at his feet. 

Then he realized Welsknight hadn't stopped moving. He was still an impression of breath, and sensation and color; a half-life of movement.

Tanguish made a noise, the odd stuttered gasp Helsknight had heard a thousand times in the Colosseum when someone took a wound they weren't expecting. His back arched, his eyes widened with shock and blooming pain. His dagger slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor.

Helsknight only knew he dropped his sword because when Tanguish fell into him limply, his arms wrapped around him. There was blood on his hands. The warm slick wept across his fingers and set them trembling. They sank slowly to the ground and Helsknight cradled Tanguish as best he could, trying to spare him the pain of jostling his wound. It didn’t work. Tanguish choked and gasped when Helsknight's knees hit the ground, his hands tangling so tightly in Helsknight's shirt, the fabric threatened to tear. 

Helsknight's mind had gone still and placid as a frozen lake, all coherent thought melting down into the pit of his stomach where something dark was slowly stirring. Some deep, indescribable emotion, kin to defeat and rage, that boiled and sickened him at once. The hand that held Tanguish’s back searched gingerly, found the clean edge where Welsknight's sword point had entered skin, somewhere near Tanguish’s spine. There was a lot of blood, so dark it was nearly black as it spilled to the floor. 

[This is a mortal wound] 

The thought broke through Helsknight's frozen-over mind, rising fully formed and sure. It did something funny to his chest, like there was no space left in his ribs. It ached like a bruise in his breastbone. Helsknight was not a doctor. What he knew of wounding could be summed up by his experiences in the Colosseum; what won him a match, and what lost it. Something instinctual inside him, something that had memorized the color of blood, and the placement of blades, knew with bone-deep certainty that there was nothing he could do about this. So Helsknight started talking. Whispering. His forehead bowed close to Tanguish’s face, listening to the fear and pain in his breathing, and willing calm into his voice.

“It's alright. I've got you,” Helsknight told him, in his voice of tarnished brass. The Knight's voice. The one that couldn't lie; that comforted and reassured. The one that Welsknight abused so egregiously when he tried to compel Helsknight to kneel. “I've got you.”

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” Tanguish gasped, his eyes a little too wide with panic and pain, the pupils thin, cat-like slots. His voice was thick, and his breaths came in shallow hiccups that weren't right. “Th-that was stupid. That was so stupid--”

“It wasn't stupid,” Helsknight reassured him, brushing a gentle hand along Tanguish’s cheek, wiping away a tracing tear, and caging a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “You were trying to help.”

Helsknight's voice still sounded distant to him, like he wasn't truly speaking. His world had narrowed to Tanguish’s eyes, and his hand braced behind his back, hot and slick with blood, and the feeling of Tanguish’s fingernails digging into his forearm and shoulder. It felt as if Tanguish were convinced, if he clung with all that was left of his flagging strength, he would not die. 

That was not how wounds like this worked.

“You weren't-- you weren't listening.” Tanguish informed him miserably. “I had to-- I had t-to stop you.”

“You stopped me,” Helsknight told him, pressing his forehead to Tanguish’s. “You were so brave.”

“I'm scared--”

“Don't be. You will be back in a moment.” 

Helsknight realized the grip on his shoulder and arm was relaxing, Tanguish's hands sinking away from him as they lost strength. Tanguish muttered something, half-slurred syllables. Something about dying. That he hated it, or that it scared him, or simply that he was.

“You will be back in a moment,” Helsknight told him, still in that calm, knight's voice. “Don't be scared. I'm right here. I'm right here.”

Tanguish whispered one more thing, weak and fervent. And then he was gone. Helsknight was abruptly kneeling on the ground, his arms empty and cold. There weren't even bloodstains to mark Tanguish's passing. Only a cold stone in Helsknight's chest, freezing his blood with the certainty that he had… failed. Tanguish had called him here to protect him. Protect him from Welsknight of all people. And he didn't. There was a crazed, distant part of himself still clawing itself from the ice in his head that wanted to dive onto his own sword, screaming. That perfect knight inside of him that desperately wanted to punish so great a failure. And then that perfect knight in his soul wanted to drag himself on his hands and knees to Tanguish, and beg for forgiveness.

But that perfect little knight was still trapped under the ice with his rational thought, and his ability to plan more than a few seconds ahead. It all clawed for escape, screamed for his attention under muffling cold, and dark.

“That wasn't supposed to happen,” Welsknight said, his voice muffled under three layers of Helsknight's grief. “He shouldn't have-- I wasn't aiming for-- that wasn't what I was trying to--"

Welsknight didn't get to finish his sentence. Helsknight was moving, his mind a cold dark, still frozen, but his chest boiled. He couldn't name the emotion that wrapped his hands around his other half's throat, only that it was a living thing, and it was twisting its claws in his ribs. And it kept twisting and twisting when he pinned Welsknight to the ground, a knee on his chest, his hands wicked vices. A sense of despair and failure and shame so intense, it could only turn into rage.

It would be a terrible, bloodless death, silent as a grave, and cruelly slow. It was not something a knight would do. Welsknight's pulse was a trapped bird fluttering beneath his fingers, and his fear prickled the edges of Helsknight's consciousness like the crawling of insects. Welsknight's own hands groped and searched, desperate for escape. His eyes pleaded.

Tanguish's small, fading voice, weak and fervent, whispered at him from beneath the cold dark of his thoughtless anger.

"Don't kill him -- please."

The perfect knight in him was screaming.

Welsknight's digging fingers were trying to slip beneath his, pry them away.

"Don't kill him -- please."

Helsknight leaned harder against the knee on Welsknight's chest, just in case his grip loosened enough to allow breath.

[Will you fail twice? The perfect knight screamed at him. Will you fail again? Better to fall on your own sword. Better to fall on your own--]

Helsknight screwed his eyes shut. Beneath his fingers, Welsknight's pulse was fading. The hands scrabbling at his weakened to half-conscious reflex. The fear crawling at the corners of his senses was melting into a heady sensation of nothing. Quiet. Helsknight wanted that terrible quiet more than he wanted the sun, or cold water.

"Don't kill him -- please."

Helsknight released his other half, and his knee slipped free of his chest. Welsknight came back to consciousness like a drowned man surfacing from a great depth, all choking coughs and whooping gasps. Helsknight didn't wait for him to recover. He searched for his sword and sheathed it. He grabbed up Tanguish's knife then and, resisting the half-mad urge to stab himself with it, vanished into hels.

trick-or-treat! >:D

Sorry King but you’ve been tricked!! And as a fellow RnS enjoyer you get the quick doodle of if Helsknight wasn’t fast enough to block Wels’ stab! A little brainworm I couldn’t get out of my head

[blackbackedjackal]

I miss him so much.

[todayisafridaynight]

daigo promoting mine to junior assistant early on was INSANE. i know people were spreading rumors cuz id be pretty salty like what’s so special abt this mine guy and what’s with this daigo favoritism!!!!!

daigos not even trying to be subtle about how fond he was of mine he's giving him The Most Public promotions possible 💀💀