#to see the sky I need to be IN the sky I need to have that VIEW and the cold and everything!!!! gRGGHGgg... And I will do that the entire

[lalunanymph]

💭 thinking about . . . . accidental pregnancy with caleb

tw. colonel caleb x fem!reader, suggestive content, angst, accidental pregnancy, a character study on what caleb would do when we get pregnant including his choices and how he navigates the threat of ever, mentions of abortion, wife-basement(ing), possessive caleb, mentions of violence, 3.2k+ words

It shouldn’t have happened. It was a mistake.

But, Caleb can hardly fault you. 

As he stares at the tracker on his phone, seeing your missed period, he wonders what’s going on in that stubborn mind of yours. 

And, why haven't you reached out to him yet with the news. 

In times like these, he wishes he wasn’t separated from you by the sky; that he was on the ground to bring you into his arms, hold you tight and ease some of his anxiety. As he switches off the dim screen, he massages the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. 

There’s only one thing left for him to do, and it’s not a pretty decision. 

Resolutely, he books his next trip to Linkon, and this time, he’s not leaving until he makes sure you’ll be with him—forever. 

The whole apartment is quiet as you stare down at the mess of contents in the toilet bowl. 

Images, like flickering mirages, flit through your mind. 

Caleb’s body over yours, the warmth pressing you down into the mattress. The feeling of being completely and utterly possessed by him in the heat of the moment. Kind, purple eyes flashing with unending adoration for you as he held you in the afterglow. The last goodbye was over a month ago when he left you to settle some urgent Fleet business, and you’ve missed him ever since.

Sighing softly, you flush the toilet and stand, feeling the edge of nausea digging right into your consciousness as you stumble back into your bedroom. With a groan, you flop onto the bed, tucking a small pillow right to your belly, holding onto it and pretending that it’s Caleb instead. You frown and resist the urge to call him. Outside, the birds are chirping and a spring breeze blows past the wispy curtains, ruffling your hair. It’s calming, and makes you doze off, the weight of this secret holding you down in fatigue till you don’t notice the bed dipping beside you and fingers in your hair.

When your eyes flutter open, you’re met with pensive purple ones—instantly snapping you awake.

“Caleb—!”

He wraps his arms around you, and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Pipsqueak. I’m home.”

Blearily, you rub your eyes and stifle a yawn. “W-when did you get back?” 

“An hour ago.” He frowns. “You forgot to latch your door. Again. Someone might come in and it wouldn’t be pretty.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “I’m not a kid anymore, Caleb. I can handle myself,” you fake a bright smile. “Besides, if anyone dares to break into a Hunter’s home, they can catch my guns!” 

“You say that, but give it a few more months and that big ol’ belly will be in the way of you landing a good punch.”

The air leaves your lungs. 

Silence weaves in thick, cold currents, and you don’t know where to look—how to respond to his astute observation. It hits you then: of course, Caleb would know. He knows everything about you. The ins and the outs. What you love, hate, like, adore. He’s a walking encyclopedia of knowledge about you, and did you think you could hide something this momentous from him? 

His palm, large and warm, creeps towards your belly. There’s a hitch in his breath—half pain, half wonder. 

“... how long have you been keeping this under wraps, baby?” 

Hearing your favorite nickname fall from his lips in such a tender cadence springs tears into your eyes. For days you wrestled with the conundrum of reaching out to him or staying mute. The tender breasts, aching belly, sleepless nights. You would endure it all if it meant not letting Caleb worry. He already had too much on his plate—he didn’t need another battle to fight because of you.

“A…” you trail off, heaving in a deep sigh. “A few days…”

Caleb makes the same consternated sound again. “Baby, you know I would’ve immediately come to you if I knew.”

You swallow and stare down at your pink, floral sheets. “I—I didn’t know how to approach this… how you would react—”

He senses the impending sorrow lining your throat and eyes, and pulls you firmly against his chest. “Hey, hey. Don’t cry… I’m not gonna leave you like this, baby. You know me. Through thick and thin, right? I’m here for you.”

Caleb smoothes his hand down your hair, patting your head and back gently. Despite the confidence he displays, he can’t help the shard of worry piercing his chest. It elevates his heartbeat, and he has to take a few, deep steady breaths to keep his neurons stable. 

The whole ballgame has changed. This doesn’t just concern him and you anymore, but another soul—one he can’t bear to put in harm's way because of his unfortunate circumstances.

His heart is heavy, and the words feel like lead in his mouth, but he has to ask you this. Ask you for a possibility to protect yourself first.

“Do you… want it?” 

The elephant in the room lays as a speck deep in your body. You awkwardly press your hand to your belly and lower your gaze, conflict brewing like heavy tar in your chest. 

“I… I don’t know—”

He seizes on this opportunity to change your mind. “Pipsqueak… you know I love you, right?” 

You nod. He presses on. “And, you know I want the best for you, right?”

Again, you nod. 

“What do you think… about… scheduling an appointment to remove it?” 

Your heart stops beating in your chest. A breath, shaky and vulnerable, trembles from your lips and you look up at him as if he’s gone mad. 

“What? Wh-why would you say that?” 

It’s like a flip has been switched. Caleb’s no longer the loving, understanding man who swept in to save you at the last moment. 

His eyes are hard. Unyielding. 

“Pipsqueak, you don’t get it, do you?” He grabs your wrist, and you fight back to no avail. Frustration seeps into his tone, and he shakes you slightly like you’re an errant, nonsensical child. 

“This isn’t just me and you anymore. We have a baby—an innocent soul to protect. We can’t—” Swallowing hard, he shakes his head, as if to dislodge a dangerous thought. “I can’t protect the two of you at once.” 

The silence after his admission rings loudly, and he sucks in a ragged breath. 

“Please,” he tries to reason with you, those purple eyes practically dilating with fear. “Please, Pipsqueak. I’ve never asked you for something before—you know me. But, I can’t—” he falters, “—I can’t lose you if I’m not too careful. I already have an entire organization on my ass and—” 

It’s like he can’t physically force the words to come out of him. Like he can’t admit his weaknesses. 

Caleb’s lower lip trembles and he clenches his jaw, trying to control his surging emotions. He tries again, this time in a steadier voice. “I can’t lose you. I can’t. Don’t make me—don’t make me choose between you or this baby. I will always choose you.”

You have no idea whether it’s the hormones or the sheer horror of this lose-lose situation that gets to you. Tears sting your eyes, and you have to look away from him, feeling sick to your gut. 

The truth is, while weren’t exactly the most spiritual or motherly person around, something about the arrival of this baby—on the cusp of spring, no less—makes you believe this little miracle was meant to come into your life. 

How could Caleb want to take that away? 

Before you can think it through, you shake your head. No, your tears and stubborn set of your pout tells him without words. No—I want this baby. 

His eyes harden. The grip on your wrist tightens. “Love, please,” he almost hisses, brows knitted together, mouth twisting into the shadow of a snarl. “Listen to me—you’re thinking with your heart and not your head—”

“No!” You yell, yanking your hand away from his grasp. Rubbing the contused flesh, fresh tears spring down your cheeks, further exacerbating his guilt. 

He can’t take the sight of you crying and stands up from the bed, pacing the room. You’ve never seen Caleb look this stressed out in your life, not even when he almost flunk his basketball tryouts because of a food poisoning mishap. While you rub your eyes, he’s running a hand through his dark locks, pinching his temples and shooting his gaze skyward as if some higher being would help him out. 

Finally, after what feels like an eternity in this stalemate, he relents.

“Love…” He sits on the edge of the bed, and you don’t fight him when he takes your hand. His expression is weary, speaking volumes of this difficult position you’ve put him in. But, you can’t be the one to compromise this time—not on something this big. 

Irrational as it is, you want this baby. You want this proof of love that is a piece of you and Caleb. 

And, you want it with him. 

Intertwining your fingers together, he squeezes your palm and sighs heavily. “If we are to do this, I have a few rules you need to follow—ah bub bub bub. Let me finish.” Grabbing your chin and tipping your head up so you can face him, Caleb’s expression is stern, brokering no room for protests. 

“Linkon isn’t safe—whatever forces that want me in Skyhaven also have their sticky hands here,” he tightens his grip. “The safest place you have is with me, princess. Always by my side. Do you understand me? Nod if you do.”

Slowly, you bob your head once.

“Good,” the look in his purple irises is devastating—a man on the verge of risking everything he loves. 

“Do you want to hear the rules now?” 

His voice is low. Gravelly. 

Fear, pure and unadulterated, floods through you as you have no choice but to nod again. 

He takes a deep breath, and the two of you stand at a precipice of the biggest leap of faith in your lives. There’s no turning back now; not when you’ve made this choice. 

The rules are as such—

You wake up in the middle of a large, king-sized bed to the slow rise of an artificial dawn. 

The room’s modulated temperature begins to warm, and your Circadian rhythm kickstarts along with the preset smart lights and thermostat modes. Recycled air flows through the basement’s vents, and you sit up, already feeling the first stirrings of nausea encroaching your consciousness. 

You grumble and turn to the side, finding his blanket folded neatly, not a trace of Caleb to be found besides your aching body and the slight mess still staining the sheets from last night’s activities. You wrinkle your nose and lug yourself up heavily, stripping the duvet and ambling over to the washing machine, stuffing it full with the floral linen he had let you choose for this studio apartment.

If you forget about the fact that you’re currently housed in a bunker beneath his Skyhaven home that’s fortified with passcodes, equipped with CCTVs and only accessible to him, you would think the way he modeled it to look exactly like your dream apartment would be sweet. 

Sighing, your hand drifts over to your belly, feeling the smooth, slightly misshapen dome dimpling under your touch. 

Through layers of skin, sinew, muscle and fat, lies a little boy you can’t wait to meet in a few months time—Caleb’s son, snugly protected and still asleep, judging by the lack of kicks.

A sudden beep stirs you from your thoughts, and you turn to find the doors whirring open. 

Speak of the man himself, and he shall appear. Caleb shoots you a warm smile, his arms heavy with bags of groceries. A layer of drizzle clings to the ends of his hair, and he shakes his head slightly, dislodging the dew drops. Without thinking, you step forward, and smooth your thumb over the raindrop right under his eye. 

The cool water immediately evaporates at your touch, but you bring it to your cheek, as if you could mimic the droplets falling from the sky onto your skin. 

It isn’t hard for Caleb to sense the longing in your actions. He puts the groceries down and takes you into his arms, the curve of your softening belly pressed tightly against his hard planes.

“Just a few more weeks, okay?” He hums. He had promised that once you hit the second trimester, he would move you to another secluded spot, but this time, you would be afforded more freedom and movement to raise Oliver. 

Pictures of a house in the middle of an island free from Protofield fluctuations fill your mind, and you sincerely believe Caleb’s done the impossible—he’s actually found you two a safe haven away from Skyhaven. 

The hours pass and soon, night falls, and the artificial lights begin to dim. Since setting up this emergency bunker for you, Caleb has sorely neglected his own bedroom and home above ground, preferring to sleep with you in this makeshift apartment. He holds you close, breath stirring the loose ends of your hair, and gently traces a pattern on your bare back.

“Pips,” he hesitates, “Can I ask you something?”

You blink your sleepy eyes—truly, pregnancy has rendered you almost physically useless—and nod. 

Caleb takes a moment to construct the question in his mind, and when he does, he gauges your reaction carefully. The last thing he wants is to upset his pregnant lover.

“Why do… Why do you want this baby so badly?” He backtracks, humming and hawing. “What I mean is—even when we were kids, you let me assume most of the responsibilities when we adopted that stray cat, and you told me that you hated dolls because you couldn’t be bothered to brush their hair when it got tangled… so what changed?”

The soft whir from the AC fills in the silence, and you take a moment to answer him.

“It’s cause… I thought I would never get a—“ you break off and scowl. “Never mind. It’s stupid.”

“Now, hold on,” he frowns playfully. “We always agreed to never keep anything from each other no matter how silly. So, spill it. What’s brewin’ in that noggin of yours?”

You sigh, knowing he’s not going to let it go until he has an answer, and pout petulantly. “I just… wanted a family of my own, okay?” You exhale the confession like a burst of wind desperate to escape the room. “I thought that this baby would, well, be a new start.” Clutching the sheets, it slowly starts to sink in how stubborn and reckless this decision of yours was, and that Caleb is only complying to it because he doesn’t want to hurt you.

Even if he shares the same thoughts, Caleb doesn’t voice them out.

“You want a home,” he gulps. “With me?”

Is it that hard to believe? Caleb looks like you’ve just told him unicorns exist. The doubt lingering in his expression nearly makes you grin, but you prefer to roll your eyes, instead.

“Yeah… is that so wrong?”

His answer is immediate. “No—uhh,” he tightens his grip around your waist and you can tell he’s itching to crack a big ol’ grin. “I’d like that. Love that, in fact. Yeah—family. You and me. Family.”

But, this happiness is not made to last and a house built on cards will eventually come crashing down.

It’s a random Wednesday night and Caleb’s caught up with some last minute Fleet work that needs his attention. After he’s done signing off a new agreement, he gets up from his chair and heads on home, picking up some takeout he already preordered a few hours ago and a bouquet of blush pink roses for you.

He thinks nothing of the quietness in his home when he arrives, and makes his way down to the basement. 

The first thing that hits him is a cool draft of air. Caleb tenses and his eyes widen. The stairwell doesn’t look different, and there’s no trace of an intruder, but a draft like this isn’t supposed to exist… unless—

He sprints down the staircase and his heart sinks right into his boots when he finds the password-encoded door hanging wide open. The keypad locking you behind safe, steel doors, sparks and beeps pathetically, the evidence of gunshot disabling it apparent once he smells the smoke and sees a bullet shell on the ground.

Caleb rushes in, his Skybreaker gun at the ready, only to be greeted by the foul stench of Viper standing in the middle of the living room. Frantically, he looks around and spots you in a corner, terrified and unmoving, your wide eyes fixed on a spot over his shoulder.

The modified man glances at Caleb and snickers vilely. “I sssssee that congratulationsssss are in order.” Viper darts his snake-like gaze to your trembling form huddled behind the sofa. “Ssssso thisss isss where you have hidden yourself from the Professsssor. He missssssed you, Mr. Overprotective.” Caleb swears the room tints red. Without another second to spare, gravity lunges right at Viper to knock him off his feet. 

The crunch of gears and grinding of bolts shoots through the air like a miasma of destruction, and you squeeze your eyes and ears shut, turning away from the massacre taking place in front of you. Within a few, short seconds, the man standing before you is a mess of parts, his unseeing eyes staring listlessly into the air. 

Caleb approaches you and sinks to his knees, gathering you into his arms. 

“Are you hurt?” He demands. “Did he hurt you anywhere?”

You force your numb lips to move, shaking your head. “N-no. I’m fine. He just—just took me off guard.”

There’s no time to lose. In a few hours, Caleb’s helped you pack, the plan to move you to safety expedited by a few weeks. It’s not an ideal situation, but he would rather you sleep surrounded by boxes for a few days than to be caught up in the mess Ever had embroiled him in—a mess that would have devastating consequences for you. 

As he loads the car with some quickly packed bags, he tells you to sit in the passenger seat and not make a sound. His jaw is clenched, veins popping from his temple. The second he gets into the car with you, Caleb floors it and speeds off.

Tentatively, you reach out to take his hand, and to your surprise, he intertwines your fingers together, holding your hand tightly.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he manages to choke out, the fear and anxiety making his heartbeat reach dangerous zones. Caleb forces himself to suck in a few deep, sharp breaths. You soothe him by rubbing his shoulder, shaking your head.

“I’m fine. We’re fine. Nothing happened. I was just shocked that Viper was standing there. I… but he didn’t hurt me. He just told me he wanted to wait for you to come home.”

Somehow, that’s worse.  Caleb doesn’t know what the Professor has up his sleeve, but he sure as hell has little doubts that it isn’t anything pretty. And, now that someone knows about you and your condition… Caleb’s light violet eyes harden. 

There is absolutely no way in hell they were going to get you. 

He would rather lose his other arm than risk you or the baby.

Family. It’s what he’s sworn to protect—from the beginning all the way to the bitter end. 

On your little island away from the entire world, the sun shines down in honeyed rays, highlighting your swollen belly. 

You can’t believe that in a few weeks time, you’ll get to see Oliver right in the flesh, hold him in your arms and kiss his little head. Caleb’s been more of a nervous wreck than you. While you’ve been doing your deep breathing exercises and bouncing on your yoga ball to stimulate contractions, your lover is quietly seeking discreet methods to help you with the inevitable home birth. 

Though he hides his nerves behind a calm, stoic facade, you know him all too well. Caleb’s been going for more runs lately, sometimes starting at the early hours of the morning. When he comes home, he showers, changes and slips into bed next to you, pressing a kiss to your forehead and, tentatively, starts to stroke your belly.

He’s definitely not like other excited fathers-to-be. 

Caleb doesn’t gush about his son, nor does he commit those stupid romcom acts of kneeling at your feet and pressing kisses to the domed flesh of your stomach. He definitely doesn’t get teary-eyed or ecstatic when he paints the nursery with you.

It’s more like a dull, hum of mundanity. Like nothing could ever phase him. 

And, a part of you thinks… Does he hate the baby?

If you weren’t secretly awake right now, you might’ve thought so. The night is dark and filled with flashing thunder. He still thinks you’re fast asleep. 

Caleb’s head is on your chest, and he gently caresses the bump, the soothing motion making Oliver flutter deep in your womb.

“Hey, little guy,” his soft voice pierces the lull, and you feel Oliver responding, turning at the sound of his father’s voice. “Whoops—looks like you’re awake, huh…?”

There’s a sharp inhale of breath.

“Look, between you and me, Oli, I can’t think of a reason why I should want you—” Your heart hurts at his admittance. “—but, I love your mom, and by some miracle, she loves a sucker like me, too.” Another deep breath, this time, a little more shaky. 

“I hope you know, I…” a soft, hitched sob. “I just—I just really want you to be safe.” 

Caleb shudders and you feel him wipe his eyes with the edge of his shirt. You wait for him to say more, but he falls silent. His breathing grows deeper, and you realize he’s fallen asleep.

You never speak to him about that vulnerable moment, and he doesn’t share what’s really burdening his heart. 

Caleb may not say it, but you can see in his actions how much he truly loves Oli. 

Nutritious meals all prepared by him, baby clothes sourced from a local vendor, more cams and CCTVs set up around the remote estate, so far away from any form of civilization. It feels like you’re in your own little bubble, away from the world. 

As you make the final touches in the nursery before your scheduled due date, you smile at the rocking chair he bought from an antique store. It’s an old thing—barely used. But, you love how it adds a touch of rustic care to the cozy space. Folding some baby clothes, you notice Caleb holding a box in his hand, moving it to the crib. 

“What’s that?” 

For the first time since he found out about this pregnancy, Caleb looks… excited? 

“Check this out, Pips,” he pulls out a crib mobile, begins to assemble it. Dangling from the arch, you see tiny acrylic planes and stars, the sight making your chest squeeze.

“Are those—?” 

“Plane mobiles,” his chest puffs out with pride. “Yep,” he pops the ‘p’. “I found them online and had them delivered to the mainland. Whatcha think? Sweet, huh?”

You walk over to him and take his hand. “It’s so adorable.” 

He squeezes your fingers, this moment feeling bigger than the two of you. “Now, he can dream sweetly about little paper planes.” 

“Yeah,” you echo, seeing the first stirrings of love and anticipation for the baby on Caleb’s glowing expression. He finally looks happy. 

“Now, he can dream of paper planes.” 

Giving birth has got to be one of the top ten hardest physical things you’ve done in your life.

But, with Caleb by your side, it moves like a breeze. He had spent months preparing for this moment. Watching videos, simulating the birth, getting used to seeing blood—everything he did was so he could be prepared to help you. 

His hands are warm, his voice a low, murmur of support, helping you through with the water birth. You cry when you feel him bundle up Oliver in a soft blanket, and take his hand after he cuts the cord that finally severs you and the baby apart—your living, breathing proof of love finally in your arms. 

Later that night, as you’re resting in the bedroom, you hear Caleb get up from his spot next to you. 

The space has been cleaned and sterilized. While he handled the birth all on his own, Caleb did have some help from Zayne, who gave him tips on how to create the safest, cleanest environment for both mother and baby. In the middle of this lonesome estate facing the seas, your eyes follow your lover as he picks Oliver up from his crib, the tiny newborn making a soft noise, almost like a loving coo. 

Again, he doesn’t know that you’re awake. 

“You’re such a lil’ miracle, ya know that?” Caleb’s voice, soft and fringed with exhaustion, reaches back to you on the bed. “Shucks,” he whispers under his breath. “You’re so adorable.” 

He’s right. Though only a few hours old, Oliver has your nose and his eyes. Sparse and downy, his hair is dark just like his father’s.

You hear him place a soft kiss onto the baby’s head. 

“I… I can’t believe you’re here. You’re finally here.”

Caleb’s voice is as familiar to you as your own heartbeat—voracious, excited, raised, angry, filled with warmth, lowered by an octave when he was in you, you’ve heard them all… but you have never heard him speak so tenderly to someone like this before.

“Crap, swore I wouldn’t cry…” 

You hear him sniffle, and your heart tugs, squeezing with all the love you hold for him. 

“Listen… I just wanna say I’m sorry if I sometimes can’t be the man you need me to be. It’s… complicated. Dangerous. I might not act like me, but I want you to know I’ll always love you, and protect you.” 

You feel his remorse echo sincerely. 

“No matter what, I’ll love you and your mom. Always. All my life. I…” he swallows. “Never had a dad. Or, a mom. I only had your mom, lil’ guy. And she’s the best person I’ve ever met in my life. You’re gonna love her as much as I do—maybe even more.”

He gently bounces Oliver in his arms. 

“And, one day when you grow up, I hope you can protect her. Take care of her when your old man isn’t around—crap. I am your old man, huh? Your pa…” 

You turn over soundlessly, and admire the build of his broad back cradling the tiny, sleeping bundle in his arms. Though you feel guilty at eavesdropping, a part of you is glad you could witness this—see the love he has for Oliver finally spilling over. Maybe you’ve known it all along… he did love your son. Caleb has always wanted this baby. 

It’s just he couldn’t admit it because he didn’t want to let it be real. He didn’t want to put his family in danger.

“I know it’s too soon, but I’ll explain to you and your mom. One day. About everything,” his whispers stir the exhaustion in you, and without meaning to, you start to doze off, almost missing the last words he says.

“About my arm… my world… how your mom and I grew up… I’d do anything to make sure you’re both safe and free—”

Caleb pauses as he hears your soft snores. He turns back, admiring your sleeping figure in the dim moonlight.

“Heh. She’s out cold.”

He turns back to the sweet, little tot also fast asleep in his arms and places a lingering kiss on the baby’s forehead.

“Sleep tight, Oli. You’re safe with us,” Caleb’s expression softens for his son, this tiny human he created out of love.

“Dream of paper planes tonight for me.”

♡ feedback and reblogs are appreciated

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.

[astonmartinii]

popularity contest | alex albon social media au

pairing: alex albon x fem doohan!reader

jack is struggling with making friends in formula one, good thing he’s got an annoyingly popular sister and a reluctantly friendly brother in law.

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

f1

liked by yourusername, pierregasly and 1,209,778 others

f1: for the first time ever, we have in-laws on the grid! jack doohan makes his full debut for alpine alongside his brother in law alex albon, who is married to y/n doohan, one of australia's biggest business women!

view all comments

user1: not for long

user2: for real admin is being a little bit optimistic here

user3: the way franco was last season, i think he’d also like to take y/n off of alex’s hands too

user4: omggggg can you people let us have anything

yourusername: proudest big sister ever

yourusername: and wife i guess

yourusername: alex has been doing this long enough he can wait for the praise

alexalbon: i’ll let him get away with it this once just because it’s his debut

jackdoohan: you’re soooooooo generous alex!

alexalbon: i know this is sarcasm but i’m choosing to ignore that

user5: i’m not reading all of that - don’t care - bring back franco

user6: true i need his cute face back on the grid

alexalbon: never disrespect those doohan genes again

jackdoohan: i knew you believed in me alex

alexalbon: you’ll kill it dude, but i was referring to the fact that i am hopelessly in love with your sister

yourusername: doohan face card never declines

jackdoohan: 💅

user7: i’m so glad jack will have his sister in the paddock and alex, his entry to f1 hasn’t been the kindest

user8: alex is such a beloved personality in the paddock as well so hopefully that’ll help jack make friends

user9: i know y/n has been bugging alex about taking jack to the padel dates

yourusername: ho are you in my walls

user10: flavio briatore if you tear my family apart you will be hearing from my lawyers

user11: i’ll be needing a lawyer after my actions

user12: we need him to ban him again

yourusername

liked by alexalbon, pierregasly and 892,046 others

tagged: jackdoohan

yourusername: baby brother is a formula one driver! words can’t express how proud i am watching him zip around albert park.

view all comments

user13: nothing you people (alpine) can do will ruin this moment for me

user14: her literally crying in the alpine garage with their dad watching him was so cute eventhough sky insisted on yammering on about franco the whole time

user15: i can’t wait for jack to prove them all wrong

liked by yourusername

jackdoohan: it felt 100x better knowing you guys were there too

yourusername: we wouldn’t miss it for the world

yourusername: that includes alex

jackdoohan: he’s contractually obligated to be here

alexalbon: doesn’t mean i’m any less proud!

yourusername: oh great, now i’m crying again

user16: yeah this is cute and all, but am i the only one getting annoyed at her shading franco constantly

user17: yes there’s literally no reason she needs to be liking those kind of comments

yourusername: chat is it illegal to be excited for and protect my brother?

user18: you can keep franco’s name out of your mouth to do so

yourusername: i’ve never said a bad word about franco, so watch your tone, especially when he hasn’t been the most respectful towards my relationship himself.

user19: omg why is she spilling the tea when it’s 3am in europe 😭

oscarpiastri: two aussies on track at albert park - we love to see it

oscarpiastri: but now i’m thinking about it, why aren’t i sponsored by doohan me?

yourusername: girly i think you have enough sponsors already

jackdoohan: this is the greed they wrote about in the bible…

user20: so jack is a nepo nepo baby?

yourusername: tell me you don’t love your brother without telling me you don’t love your brother

user21: also she literally sponsors alex as well… why wouldn’t she help out the people she loves when she owns the biggest apparel and makeup companies in australia…

alexalbon: i’m chopped liver this weekend…

yourusername: you can be second for one weekend

alexalbon: fine… i’ll hold you to that

yourusername: and i’ll hold you too

alexalbon: oh hehehehehe

georgerussell63: loser

alexalbon

liked by danielricciardo, oscarpiastri and 672,099 others

tagged: yourusername & jackdoohan

alexalbon: p6? and Q2 for jack? i guess you could say we're doohan okay :P

view all comments

user22: doohan/albon family you are so precious to me

user23: this post got me crying in the club at 6am

user24: the way jack RAN to alex in parc ferme was so so so cute i can’t

yourusername: it’s sweat in my eyes i SWEAR

alexalbon: okay baby, we believe you

jackdoohan: i always knew i was your favourite brother

yourusername: you’re the only one?

jackdoohan: omg p1

alexalbon: a win is a win

user25: jack being second of all the rookies is just what he needed this weekend !!!

user26: babe is not playing around

georgerussell63: get in there alex!!!

georgerussell63: but please stay away from my car tomorrow

yourusername: i know this man ain’t talking

georgerussell63: i’m not engaging with this

yourusername: … pussy

alexalbon: when your wife and friend get along

georgerussell63: eh hem * best friend

alexalbon: slow your roll there buddy

georgerussell63: who could possibly be your best friend - and don’t say y/n because that doesn’t count

alexalbon: jack is right there

georgerussell63: i’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that

alexalbon: well the rest of you have hardly made him feel welcome have you?

user27: omg alex is out here gagging the girls

user28: and he ate!

user29: i mean alex was lucky having george and lando when he made his debut, jack has the other rookies but i’ve got the sense he’s been made a bit of an outsider

user30: this whole situation is so sad i’m not going to lie - i’m glad alex is clearly there for him and that y/n goes to like 90% of the races

danielricciardo: flying the aussie flags high boys, proud of you!

jackdoohan: thank you daniel :))))))))

alexalbon: the thai flag is right there… but i’ll take it dude! see you for dinner tomorrow xx

yourusername: we’ll see if we can kidnap oscar and make it a full on aussie affair

alexalbon: i am not aussie !!!

yourusernamel: yes you are

alexalbon: yes i am

user31: how all husbands should be ^^^

f1newsandgossip

liked by user42, user50 and 11,045 others

f1newsandgossip: it’s being reported that both alex albon and max verstappen called a grid meeting to call out the exclusion of jack doohan. insiders state it got extremely heated, with alex albon not holding back.

view all comments

user31: i mean…. i have to agree with alex like that dinner was unnecessarily cruel

user32: it’s SO strange that they managed to invite all of the other rookies but not him

user33: if it’s not cruel it’s extremely negligent from the grid

user34: hey wasn’t george on some anti-bully tirade at the end of last season? what happened to that…

user35: he’s the head of the GDPA and likely was the one to organise this meal - he should know better

user36: if george did organise it and alex was as incensed as they say, it was BAD bad

user37: max standing up for jack is so needed thank you

user38: i mean we all know how max was treated as a rookie…

user39: and he was super chatty with jack at the photoshoot so at least he’s tried

user40: more than what some could say

user41: i think it’s crazy that the grid haven’t made an effort with jack considering they are constantly licking y/n’s ass trying to ride her coat tails

user42: SO TRUE

user43: they like the doohans so much that they’ll constantly use and wear her products, making sure to tag her but they can’t invite her brother to dinner?

user44: anyone seen those pictures kym illman posted of y/n on the phone in the paddock?

user45: baby was PISSED

user46: rightly so tbf

user47: the fact that both her and her dad ignored sky this morning >>>

user48: i mean, as they should, all they do is talk about franco when jack is on screen

user49: alex and jack coming in together this morning, both wearing doohan me merch …. kings

user50: the only positive from this meeting/ idk fight is the fact that a load of drivers flocked to alpine

user52: charles bringing leo ???

user53: took too long, but i’m glad they pulled their heads out of their asses

f1

liked by maxverstappen1, lewishamilton and 2,945,300 others

tagged: jackdoohan

f1: aussies… are you doohan good? jack doohan scored points on his full debut at home, picking up a p9 finish. we don’t think anyone was happier than his sister, but brother in law alex albon was pretty pleased too…

view all comments

user54: flavio briatore… come outside… i just want to talk

user55: aussies we be smoking on that briatore pack tonight

user56: y/n’s smug smile at him in the garage was ALL of us

oscarpiastri: aussie aussie aussie

jackdoohan: oi oi oi

oscarpiastri: stoked for you dude honestly

jackdoohan: much appreciated - congrats on the podium!

user57: my aussie boys !!!!!!!!!!

user58: alex holding jack while he cried is the moment of the season already i don’t think we’ll top it

user59: i need it tattooed on the inside of my eyelids for real

user60: the other drivers all coming to congratulate him - better late than never

user61: i honestly think alex was happier for alex than himself even though he got fourth

user62: that’s family right there

yourusername: jack doohan world dominance would bore no one

yourusername: but on a real note, unbelievably proud of you baby brother

jackdoohan: would never have happened without you - i love you <3

alexalbon: nothing but love for my favourite brother in law!

alexalbon: there’s been a lot of chat about him but jack is the real deal

yourusername: my two favourite boys, i love you guys and i’m so proud

user63: jack getting points at home is such poetic justice

user64: i need him to know we love him

user65: i mean other than oscar’s podium his points was defo the biggest cheer of the weekend!

alpinef1: it’s just what he does 🤩

yourusername: and what he’ll continue to do…

user66: the way this is an actual threat LOL

jackdoohan

liked by georgerussell63, landonorris and 348,208 others

tagged: alexalbon & yourusername

jackdoohan: this weekend has been everything and more for me. to get my first points at home, means the world, and to be supported by my favourite people in the world made it all the more sweeter. y/n, these points are for you, thank you for always supporting me and alex, thank you for being there for me - it’s been lonely but you’ve welcomed me as best as you could. here’s to the rest of the season!

view all comments

user66: i am NOT crying

user67: thank the lord for alex albon!

user68: my shaylas

liked by yourusername

maxverstappen1: congratulations jack, the first points of many!

jackdoohan: thank you max, maybe i’ll be able to get close enough to race you personally…

maxverstappen1: hopefully it’s for podiums…

lewishamilton: well in jack! congratulations!

charles_leclerc: congratulations on your first points jack :D

user69: looks like a stern talking to by alex albon works a plenty

user70: we love to see it

alexalbon: mr jack, there’s nothing me or your sister wouldn’t do for you - never hesitate to reach out. we’re so proud of you and will be here for you every step of the way!

yourusername: what he said

yourusername: i love you baby brother and i’m so so proud. i won’t stop saying it until i die

jackdoohan: i love you guys so much

yourusername: also @alexalbon you’re the best husband in the world, looking out for jack. you’re the most amazing man in the world xx

alexalbon: i’d do anything for you and for jack. i love you and i wake up thankful everyday that you decided that i’m worth marrying

yourusername: there’s no one else in the world worth marrying xx

landonorris: @jackdoohan how are you so chill about them professing their love under your congratulations post?

jackdoohan: i love them and i love that they love each other?

user71: i need a relationship like y/n and alex

user72: i need siblings like them omg

isackhadjar: you slayed jack!

kimiantonelli: 🔥

user73: why are we all fawning over the drivers in being in the comment section? it’s clear alex just guilted them into doing it

user74: for real, f1 isn’t a popularity contest it’s about winning

yourusername: jack doesn’t have to be popular, but he will be respected

alexalbon: and if anyone is ‘guilted’ into being a nice person, that’s their issue

jackdoohan: :3

fin.

note: she's back? she's also been up since 3am to watch the f2 so enjoy my sleep deprived fuelled love for alex (let's go p6????) and jack (because seriously, give him a shot god damn)!!!

[leashybebes]

living at the edge of the world (1/2)

okay here we go folks. will post to ao3 once i have the second part done (fingers crossed for tomorrow!) and have polished it up a bit, but here's an expanded version of this for everyone who was screaming at me 😘

The helicopter is twisted wreckage, and Buck's first thought is about Tommy. But not - not about Tommy being in there, just in the way he thinks about Tommy every time he sees or hears a helicopter, every time he hears the bounce of a basketball, every time he smells sandalwood, every time he sees a standoffish cat of the type Tommy would immediately fall in love with, apparently adoring the little monsters all the more the less interest they showed in his attention.

But he's not thinking about Tommy being in there. He's not really thinking about anyone being in there - surely it's too much of a crumpled mess to hold a living person. It's Chim and Hen that tip him off, the way Hen glances at Chim in one of their moments of wordless communication and the way Chim immediately gets up from where he's on his knees next to the chopper, peering through the shattered window. Chim scrambles upright and jogs in Buck's direction, getting a hand on his chest and bringing him to a halt.

"Buck. Hang back, man."

It takes Buck a second to register the look on Chim's face, another second to look over his shoulder at where he can see, from this angle, an arm inside a blue flight suit, bent at a horrible angle.

"Oh - oh god - "

"Buck. You gotta breathe, or you gotta remove yourself from the situation," Chim tells him.

"I'm good," Buck says, distantly aware of Hen saying careful, easy, barely audible over the sound of metal screeching as two firefighters from the 217 go to town on the chopper with the jaws.

Chim looks at him for a long moment, then lets him pass. It's even worse up close, now he can see the extent of the damage to the chopper, now it's been peeled open to give Hen room to work. Now he can see the blood. Now he can see Tommy. 

He's alive. He's even awake, blinking up at the sky, one side of his familiar face a mask of blood. His hair is matted with it, and there's more soaking his flight suit, at the arm and maybe more worryingly, around what Buck can see of his abdomen.

Hen glances away from Tommy for a second, sends Buck a split-second look.

"You got this?" she asks, already back to working on Tommy.

"Y-yeah," Tommy says, sounding shaky.

"I got it," Buck says, and Hen has to reach out with both hands to pin Tommy in place because he tries to move immediately, turning towards the sound of Buck's voice.

"Hey, hey, Tommy, I need you to stay still for me, okay?" Hen says urgently.

"E-Evan?"

The talking to civilians part of him takes over and Buck is distantly aware that another part of him is howling, begging and pleading for a little more time, a miracle, for anything not this.

"Yeah," he says, ducking close enough that Tommy can see him and doing his best to stay out of Hen's way. "Yeah, hey, I'm here."

Tommy's eyes, which are already wide and panicky, pupils dilated with pain and - Buck hopes - medication, brim with tears.

"Oh - oh my god. H-hey, Evan."

"Hey, Tommy."

Hen waves her hand in a keep him talking gesture and Buck nods, squeezing Tommy's hand. 

"You're okay," he lies. "Just keep still and let Hen - "

Tommy interrupts him with a sob. "I'm so sorry. Evan, I'm - god, in a - in a lifetime of shitty decisions, it was the worst mistake I ever made. Evan - Evan, I'm so sorry. You made me so happy. You woulda made me so happy if I just - fuck - if I just let you."

"Hey, hey, c'mon. It's okay. I got you, Tommy, it's okay."

Tommy tries to shake his head, and Buck braces him to stop him, holding him still while Chim gets a C collar on him.

"Listen," Tommy gasps out. "Listen to me. You didn't do anything wrong. You're brave and you're beautiful and you're - you're so good, Evan. It wasn't your fault. You didn't - you didn't do anything wrong. You don't need to feel guilty or - "

"H-hey, stop it," Buck says. "We're not doing that. I know you're a movie guy, but we're not doing dramatic goodbyes, okay? We'll talk. We'll talk in the hospital, okay?"

Tommy's teeth are chattering. He looks grey. But he's determined to get more heartbreaking words out, apparently, so Buck squeezes his hand and soothes him through it.

"I'm s-s-so s-s-s-self-ish," Tommy says.

"What? What do you mean?"

"I'm so - Evan, I'm so glad you're here."

Buck blinks hard. He won't cry. He won't let Tommy see anything other than hope on his face. "Hey, hey, me too. Wouldn't be anywhere else. Just hold on, babe, it's gonna be - "

"So - so glad I got to s-s-see y-y-you." Tommy laughs wetly, and it makes an awful noise rattle through his chest. "'m such - such an asshole."

"No you're not, Tommy, of course you're not."

Tommy's eyelids flutter, and then they close.

"No, n-no, come on, Tommy, eyes on me, baby please," Buck begs.

"On three," Hen says, and Chim shoves Buck aside to help her.

Tommy's hand falls from his, and Buck tries not to think about last times. 

They get him out of the wreckage and he makes a hurt noise, but he doesn't speak. Buck realizes he's still on his knees, that every bit of thought he has is focused on just - just breathing when a hand lands on his shoulder. He looks up, blinks, tries to focus. Lets himself be pulled to his feet.

"Go," Bobby tells him.

"I - I can stay," Buck says, because the scene is still a shit show and he has a job to do, and - 

"No, you can't," Bobby says kindly, and that's when Buck realizes he's shaking. All over, full-body shakes.

"B-bobby - "

Bobby hugs him, hard and brief, then claps him on the shoulder and pushes him towards the ambulance.

Tommy codes three times on the way to the hospital. 

Buck squeezes his hands together so tight his knuckles go white. Tries to stay out of the way. Wishes more than anything that he was the praying kind.

part 2 here

tagging some potentially interested parties. let me know if you want on or off the list for part 2!

@geddyqueer @adiprose @peapodbond @poppyspoppy @stolemyhheart @screamlet @buck-unbewildered @beanarie @chococara25 @fenrirscarsback @hyperfocusthusly @trombonechurchill @thegingerparty @setmeatopthepyre @rcmclachlan @espressotonicc

[therapardalis]

[Source - ohisms.]

✱˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 . ( a collection of dialogue prompts based on varying types of demands&. requests . adjust phrasing as necessary . this prompt WILL likely be updated in the future . )

[Cut for length.]

don't say a word .

don't leave me here .

meet me at our spot tonight .

follow me and stay close .

don't beg , it's pathetic .

can you ( tie / zip ) this for me ?

stop lying to me . tell me what you did .

put that down , you don't know what it ( is / does ) .

get out of my sight .

stop pretending you know what's going on .

find a first-aid kit . quickly !

don't get yourself killed .

leave them to me , just go .

just admit that you love me .

just admit that you hate me .

come here , let me look at you .

( name ) , don't make me do this .

drop your ( weapon ) .

stay here and wait for my signal .

don't just sit there , move .

take this and run , don't let anyone have it .

pretend you're my ( partner / girlfriend / boyfriend ) .

don't look , you'll give us away .

don't say another word .

stop pretending like you care .

go make sure the coast is clear .

take this with you . it's a good luck charm .

don't tell anyone about this .

if anybody asks about today , lie .

stop looking at me like that .

tell me you love me .

just kiss me , already .

keep your eyes on the road .

stop crying and calm down .

come with me . there's so much we could do .

wear the ( dress / tie / item ) i gave you tonight .

show me how you like to be touched .

hold my hand .

kiss me , make it look real .

look at me . how many fingers am i holding up ?

will you marry me ?

just slow down for a minute . what's going on ?

take a deep breath , you need to calm down .

get out of here , ( name ) !

draw your weapon .

go rest . i'm not asking .

take a step back .

give me a straight answer .

be polite to our guests .

look me in the eye and say that again .

put your feelings aside for a moment .

keep close to me .

here , let me see that .

look up at the sky .

get out of here , i don't want to see you right now .

stand up , this isn't over yet .

close your eyes and count to ten .

smile for the camera !

keep your head down .

( name ) , let me past .

listen carefully to what i'm about to say .

don't just stare , come in .

stop laughing , this isn't funny .

take this and hide it .

don't make a sound .

put your hands up .

quit causing problems everywhere you go .

just admit that you don't know what you're doing .

stop right there , i mean it .

don't say that name aloud .

just trust me , okay ?

stop acting so childish .

call the police . now .

tell me you love me , even if it's not real .

take a good hard look .

stop the car , ( name ) .

don't make eye contact .

stay out of trouble .

just do it already , we've waited long enough .

hold me tight , and never let me go .

finish what you started .

tell me what you know .

just stay away from me .

turn around . slowly .

don't be scared .

put it down before somebody gets hurt .

stop pretending , i'm tired of the pretending .

grab me my ( item ) , will you ?

don't make assumptions .

put this over it to stop the bleeding .

get to safety !

wipe that look off your face .

secure the area .

keep an eye on them .

look at yourself in the mirror .

run . run and don't stop .

eat . you haven't touched your food in days .

[wordsofwhimsy]

𝙀𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙔𝙤𝙪 - Pt. 6

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

【ＰＡＩＲＩＮＧ】⦂ (Unspecified) Variant!Mark Grayson x Reader

【ＷＡＲＮＩＮＧＳ】⦂ Smut!!

【ＩＮＳＰＩＲＡＴＩＯＮ】⦂ Kinda "Teenage Fever" by Drake?

→【Ｐａｒｔ　Ｆｉｖｅ】←

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

As the night wound to an end, Mark effortlessly carried you home through the night sky. His grip was steady, his body firm against yours as you rested in his arms. Beneath the pale moonlight you could see a small stream of water glistening below, its body curving and moving as it trailed in the direction of your town. It was truly beautiful—a thought you didn’t often have about this universe. You didn’t pay it much more than a passing glance, however, as all you could focus on was the feeling of Mark’s muscular form beneath you. The way your body seemed to mold so perfectly into him, like nothing mattered but the space between you two.

You weren’t sure if it was the wine still coursing through your veins or the undeniable attraction you felt in his arms, but there was something different now. Something shifting. He’d carried you in this same fashion several times before, but that night it felt almost… intimate. The way his broad chest pressed against you when he adjusted his flight path. The way the muscles in his arms flexed as he held you. You could feel the heat radiating from his skin, even through the fabric of his suit. Every inch of you responded to it.

You bit down on your lip as you realized how painfully aware you were of his body. You’d never really thought about it before—Mark’s physical presence, the way his strength would feel when being aimed at you so carefully. But now it seemed impossible to ignore. A blush crept up your neck and you quickly tried to brush it off, chalking it up to the wine. But the fluttering in your stomach told you it was more than that.

Mark’s voice cut through your thoughts, low and steady. “We’re almost there,” he said, his tone slightly more relaxed than usual.

The air around you both seemed to hum as you approached the rebuilt town. Mark descended slowly, landing gently outside the house that was once your home. It stood there, as if untouched by time, its structure newly restored. The lights flickered in the windows, casting a soft glow against the night.

As he set you down on the ground, the closeness of his body was still palpable, his hands lingering on your arms as if reluctant to let go. The moment stretched, silent but heavy with something you couldn’t quite place.

You stepped back, suddenly aware of the space between you. You took a moment to steady yourself, thinking that the spin in your head had to be from the wine. You couldn’t possibly be reeling from the abrupt loss of his touch. Could you?

Without thinking, your voice broke the silence. “Do you want to come inside?”

It was a question that hung in the air, almost too quiet to be real. But there it was, and as soon as it left your lips, you didn’t want to take it back. You didn’t want to push him away this time.

Mark didn’t hesitate. He stepped closer, his hand brushing against your cheek before he replied, his voice softer than it had been all evening. “Yeah. I think I’d like that.”

You led him into the house, the familiar creak of the door echoing in the quiet night. As the door clicked shut behind you, a palpable shift took over. You could feel the tension between you two intensifying. Mark stepped forward, closing the distance between you with a slow, deliberate motion.

His eyes searched yours, as if waiting for permission, and something in you—the part that had been holding back for so long—finally gave in. You didn’t need words. His gaze, his proximity, the quiet energy swirling between you, said it all.

Without wasting another moment, he pulled you closer, his lips crashing into yours in a kiss that was both urgent and gentle. You melted into him, the warmth of his body, the strength of his arms wrapping around you, sending your pulse racing. You kissed him back, your hands finding the familiar contours of his suit, needing to feel the reality of him even more.

Time slowed as the world outside faded away and you both surrendered to the heat between you. Your hands roamed up to his neck, feeling the tension in his muscles as they flexed beneath your fingertips. Every touch, every movement, seemed to set your body on fire, the intensity of it all leaving you breathless.

The kiss deepened as Mark’s hands slid lower, his touch searing against your skin. He pulled you closer, his body pressing you against the wall, your heart pounding in your chest as you felt the full weight of him. You couldn’t stop the rush of heat that followed, the way his touch sent sparks of electricity through your body.

In the quiet of your home, the air thick with anticipation, you didn’t need to say anything else. Neither of you did. The connection between you spoke louder than any words ever could.

Breaking for air you couldn’t help but notice the room was suffocating with tension—thick, heavy, and impossible to ignore. Mark’s eyes never left yours, that familiar cocky smirk on his face, his hair slightly disheveled, giving him an even more dangerous edge. His posture was relaxed, but you could feel the raw intensity radiating off of him, like he was barely keeping himself under control.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” he teased in a murmur, his gaze traveling over you like he was sizing you up. His grin only grew as you shifted slightly, clearly overwhelmed just from that one exchange. The charged heat of the moment was drawing out Mark’s darker side, like a predator relishing in the thrill of the their prey squirming in the last minutes of their life.

“I didn’t think you were the type to take things slow,” you shot back, your tone challenging but your pulse betraying your calm facade. You were already too aware of the way he made you feel—how every inch of him made your body come alive, the cocky, reckless version of him suddenly seeming almost irresistible.

Mark chuckled, low and rich with confidence. “I didn’t realize I was the one taking things slow,” he responded lowly while softly grazing his fingers up the skin of your arm.  A violent shiver shot down your spine in response. “But to be honest, I don’t know if you can handle me…” His lips barely grazed against your ear as he spoke, the heat of his breath putting a blanket of fog in your mind. You could’ve sworn your heart was about to hammer right out of your chest. He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his cocky grin not faltering for a second.

You narrowed your eyes at him, the teasing tone of your voice mixing with a flare of defiance. “I think you’re all talk.”

Mark let out another low laugh, the sound both amused and dark. “I’d be more than happy to show you how wrong you are.” His hand slid to your waist, pulling you toward him with a confidence that made your breath catch. His grip was solid, powerful—like he was daring you to challenge him further, but you were already too far gone.

His lips brushed against yours, slow and deliberate, and you could feel the smirk tugging at his mouth as he sensed your eagerness. He deepened the kiss just enough to make you want more before pulling away again, his face inches from yours. “Impatient, aren’t you?” His eyes glinted, knowing full well the effect he was having on you. “Can’t I take my time?”

“You can’t be serious,” you breathed, a laugh escaping your lips as you tilted your head, trying to hide the fact that your body was betraying you. The last thing you wanted was to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much you wanted him, how badly you ached for him.

Mark raised an eyebrow, the smirk never leaving. “Oh, I’m serious. But, I gotta admit,” his voice dropped an octave, teasing, “watching you squirm is kinda... fun.”

Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you again, but this time, his kiss was deeper, more insistent—almost as if he was making up for the teasing, pulling every ounce of control from you. His hands roamed to your back, pulling you flush against him. The feeling of the solid plains of his chest pressed firmly against your breast and nipples sent your body into overdrive.  A moan escaped your throat, vibrating against his lips in its ascent.  The sound resonated in Mark like some kind of animalistic call, and any control he had over himself seemed to fly out the window.

His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, eliciting a gasp from you that gave him the perfect opportunity to slip in his tongue. His kiss was feverish and starved as his hands went down to your ass and swiftly lifted you off the ground, your legs instinctively locking around him. Your cores only separated by thin layers of fabric, Mark began to grind into you as seemingly all the blood in his body rushed to swell inside his dick.

Before you came along, he had no issue with making short work of the women he kept at his mansion. Something about being the unchallenged ruler of the world put his sexual prowess into overdrive, and his harem did well enough to quell that thirst. But after your first day in his universe, and seeing your repulsed reaction to them, he set them all free. You never asked what happened to the women, and he never told you, but the truth was your mere presence tainted the taste of the concubine. There really was no point in them staying around any longer. For Mark, the only earthly desire he had anymore laid nestled warmly between your thighs.

And now it was so close he could practically taste it.

Your heated kiss was broken just long enough for him to strip you of the summer dress you’d been wearing. The sight of your supple breast practically spilling from the cups of your bra was almost painful for Mark. Burying his face in the valley between your chest he placed lewd kisses across all of your available skin. Your head lulled back against the wall, fingers interlaced in the mess of his hair as you held him closer.

His tongue traced along the edge of the cup before he reached up with one hand and pulled back the fabric, barely freeing your perky nipple. His tongue flicked over the nub, swirling around it as drool began to drip over his lip. You let out a breathy moan before purposefully gripping the sides of head and forcing his mouth to find purchase on your breast. Your hips subconsciously bucked into his as he suckled with an intense focus on your flesh. It had been so long since either of you felt the pleasure of another person’s touch that this act alone was pushing you towards a climax.

“Fuck you’re so beautiful,” he mumbled into the soft mound of flesh. “Your tits are so fucking perfect.” His teeth softly tweaked at your nipple, pulling on it in a way that teetered between pain and pure pleasure. His cock pulsed demandingly in his suit, becoming too uncomfortable for him to handle any longer. Keeping you pressed into the wall he leaned just far enough away from you to undo the zipper of his suit and push it down around his ankles, his boxers going with it. You only had a brief opportunity to see his full length as it sprung free and smacked against your abdomen. The size alone made you blush, and your expression was not lost on him.

“Like what you see?” Mark’s voice was dripping with that teasing confidence you were so familiar with, but there was an added layer of amusement, a little too pleased with himself. He flashed a smirk, eyes glinting with mischief.

Your face immediately heated up. “I wasn’t... I wasn’t looking,” you stammered stupidly, but the blush on your cheeks was undeniable. The warmth on your cheeks only reflected a small fraction of the heat sweltering between your legs.

Mark’s grin only grew wider as he leaned in, kissing along your throat. “Don’t be embarrassed—I get it. I mean, it’s not every day you get a front-row seat to this…” His hand grabbed hold of yours, pulling it from his hair and leading it down to his dick. The butterflies in your stomach were almost nauseating. He guided your fingers to wrap around its base before gently stroking it down to the tip. He breathed hard at the touch, his eyes squeezing shut as he let his head drop forward onto your shoulder.

Filled with an almost thrill at the seeming shift in the power dynamics you happily took control, pumping your hand in a perfect rhythm over his thick length. His hips bucked to meet your touch, his right hand still tightly gripped onto your ass. You index finger moved over the slit at the head of his dick, collecting some of the hot precum he was dripping with. Mindlessly you brought it to your mouth, licking your finger clean. Mark’s eyes widened at the sight, his jaw clenching desperately.

“You’re so fucking filthy…” he growled, eyeing the way your tongue swirled around your slim digit. His free hand reached down and hooked into the crotch of your panties, pushing it recklessly to the side and immediately pushing at the entrance of your slick cunt with his ready cock. “Y’gonna take this like a good girl?” His words made you flush with embarrassment, turning your head away from his as you closed your eyes. “Don’t you fucking do that,” he cursed in a low, rumbling tone. “Look at me.”

You pathetically obeyed, teeth bit into your bottom lip as you turned back to face him.  You head was still tilted back as you eyed him wearily through the bottom of your lashes. His eyes were dark and needy, a small sheen of sweat glistening on his neck. And with your stare locked in his, he pushed into. A loud, drawling moan tumbled out of your mouth as he watched your reaction intently. Your fingernails sharply pressed into the skin of his muscled back, trying your absolute best to hold on to your sanity in that moment. Mark continued to watch, his own voice caught in his throat as he slowly slid in deeper until finally his hips were all but flushed with yours.

“Ohhh fuck,” you whimpered, tears budding on your bottom lid. The sight of you was driving him absolutely insane. With the same painstaking slowness that he had pushed in with, Mark pulled back out.  He came all the way to the tip, his eyes darting between your contorted face and down to watch your sweet lips spread around him. Just when you were sure he was going to leave you completely he stopped, hesitating only for a moment before slowly easing himself back in.

With the women who he kept at his disposal back at his mansion, the sex was always fast, harsh, and rough. The heated escapades could last for hours, and when it was all said and done he would feel only the mildest hint of satisfaction. But now, here with you, it was everything he could do not finish inside you right then. He had to keep this agonizingly slow pace just to stifle the sense of overwhelming pleasure.

And, if he were being honest, he desperately needed to savor this moment with you. He had longed to touch you, to feel you be pressed so sweetly against him again for years. He dreamed of this moment, waking up some nights covered in his own slick. He had missed your body so much, and now, with this alternate version of you, it was like you two were having your first time all over again. Mark wanted to believe—no, he needed to believe that this moment was genuine and not being fueled by alcohol. But in the event that it was, and he wouldn’t get this experience of nirvana with you again, he was absolutely determined to relish in every single second of it.

“You feel so fucking good,” he breathed, every muscle in his body flexed and tense as he stroked in and out of you at an agonizing pace. His arms hooked under both of your knees, giving him better leverage to pump inside you. “Fuck I don’t want this to end.”

“Shh,” you quieted, smothering his mouth with your own in a sloppy kiss. A trail of spit dropped from your lips as you pulled away, adding, “I need you to focus okay?” Something about the way you commanded him deepened his arousal, his expression turning stony as he leaned himself on his forearm against the wall beside you. His hips picked up in pace, each thrust snapping into you harder and deeper than you even realized was possible.

This new found speed and force quickly brought you to the edge, your legs quaking around his waist. “Oh god don’t stop, p-please don’t stop,” you begged desperately.

“You need this dick, don’t you?” he muttered through nearly clenched teeth. You could only nod your head weakly in lament. “You want to cum all over my fat cock.” This wasn’t a question, but a statement of fact that you couldn’t even begin to deny. It only took a few more strokes before you creamed around his length, your insides tightening and milking him with everything you had.

Marks eyes squeezed shut at the feeling, a lightshow firing off behind his eyelids as he tried to focus on finishing the task at hand. He continued to pump into you through your climax, your cries ringing in his ear mixed with the sound of your sweaty bodies slapping together. He could only hold out for a few minutes longer before he reached his edge too, not even thinking as he spilled his hot seed inside of you.

Your body laid limp against him, all the energy completely drained from you in that final moment. Mark stood, chest heaving to catch his own breath for several minutes before he finally muttered, “I love you so fucking much.” His statement sparked an ounce of liveliness into you, completely taken aback by his words. You didn’t know what to say, leaving his only response being the sound of labored breathing. He didn’t care. His eyes were soft as he looked over your beautiful, exhausted face. The feeling in his chest was indescribable. Mark leaned forward and kissed you softly, but with every ounce of genuine love and adoration seeping out of his lips and into you in the process.

This was what he had needed all this time. You. Uncensored, unrestrained, and entirely his. And he would be damned if he ever let you go again.

[heartavenue]

⪩ 𔘓 ⪨ ִ Saw this on Twitter, and I just HAD to share! Just assume that it's yours and be DONE WITH IT! Stop waiting on external validation to tell you what you already have. Assume IN your favor, NOT against yourself.

I see so many people affirm that they have something and immediately check for it. Well, what's the point of affirming that you have it if you go searching for it? That's like me asking where my phone is, even though it's already in my hands.

I see so many posts that'll be like, "I'm a master shifter," and then they'll turn right back around and say, "I haven't shifted yet, and no method is working for me."

Well, I wonder why that is?

Just like the tweet below me says, it's because you keep assuming and reaffirming that you don't have it. Assume it's yours and be done with it. You don't have to look up at that sky to see in the stars aligned, you don't have to eye your clock down waiting for it to strike 11:11 and make a wish, and you damn sure don't need a random post on the internet to tell you what's already within in.

[peepshow321]

TaskRaccoon Premium: Chapter 1

Josh was at a dead end. For years he had put his entire focus and energy on his education and studies, above his social life, his health, and his finances. He came top of his class in History and Classics and so in his head all that hard l work had paid off, but now that he had graduated... what was next? His classmates had swanned off into internships and graduate programmes, but Josh found himself in the summer after graduating with no job, no prospects and, most importantly, no money.

Josh's parents had supported him throughout his further education, but now that he was back home they decided to treat Josh like an adult. And that meant rent. Josh balked at the suggestion, but his parents were adamant and so Josh found himself on the job hunt.

This proved trickier than Josh anticipated. Turns out the local libraries and bookshops didn't care about his top degree; they wanted experience. And as Josh lowered his sights to restaurants, cafes, even the bowling alley, he found himself receiving the same feedback.

Needing to save making cash quick, a sympathetic interviewer told Josh to pick up the odd job on TaskRaccoon - an app where Josh could choose to help people with tasks like moving furniture, watering plants, doing shopping in exchange for a small fee. It wasn't perfect, especially as Josh didn't really have the build or inclination for manual jobs, and Josh often found himself doing jobs he never expected while at school. But over time Josh felt an unexpected satisfaction with earning a buck and paying his parents. So much so that Josh had bigger aspirations - moving out of his parents place.

That, of course, required money. And while Josh worked hard with the TaskRaccoon jobs he was given, he needed something more.

On a random Tuesday afternoon, a solution seemed to land out of nowhere on Josh's TaskRaccoon app: TaskRaccoon Premium. Out of nowhere, Josh's app pop-up with a link to a Premium version of the app. It was an additional service where workers such as Josh would get a boosted fee for the same types of tasks plus, according to the app, receive "all the skills and know-how to complete the task to perfection." Josh figured that last bit was maybe the app providing how-to guides on how to complete the more common tasks, which he took as a nice freebie.

To lure users in, there was even an offer - sign-up to TaskRaccoon Premium, perform a randomly assigned task, and receive double the boosted fee. Josh had done his fair share of the most common tasks on the app already (walk my dog, assemble my shelves, do my groceries) so figured it was well worth his while to take the gamble. And so Josh bit the bullet, sign up for a Premium account, and waited to be given his first random task.

Without any pause and without any fanfare, Josh's first random task appeared: "I need someone to clean my pool". Josh groaned; it wasn't the first time he had seen a pool cleaning request but it was one he always chose to ignore because he felt he didn't have any of the right equipment and would have no idea where to start. And while this new Premium version had offered access to "skills and know-how", there only thing on the app was an address. Josh couldn't even see an option to cancel.

Josh wavered, but as he saw the blue sky outside and remembered the promise of a doubled fee, he decided to go for it. He could rake some leaves out of a pool easily enough. The address was only a 15 minute drive away, so Josh grabbed the keys to his mum's sedan and got going.

It felt good to be outside and Josh enjoyed the sunny drive. So much so that he didn't notice his mum's humble car begin to change. The front section became blockier and more basic, her touchscreen sat nav becoming an older model. The seats and interior decor became faded, and Josh had to readjust his seating position as the car seemed to somehow lift off the ground. The steering wheel grew in size and, to match it, bizarrely, so did Josh's hands. Without warning, Josh's pale hands began to darken in complexion and as they grasped the now-rough wheel Josh didn't notice the veins that ran down with now lean and well-rounded hands.

Josh pulled up to a red light, momentarily confused about how he seemed to sit above the surrounding cars. He also felt cramped in the car and realised that his seat was pushed up way too far. He, a bit embarrassingly, was the same height as his mum so he never normally had to adjust the seat, but as he pushed the seat back he realised just how much he needed to stretch out his legs. As the light turned to green, he was oblivious to his jeans riding up and becoming a loose pair of swimming shorts, revealing his now lengthy and toned legs, feathered with dark hair.

Josh pulled up at the designated address shortly after, a sizeable house in a nice neighbourhood. As he got of the car, he was for a moment confused by his need to climb out of the car and then felt off balance when he landed on the tarmac. Before he could interrogate any further though, he looked in surprise at the pick-up truck boot filled with pool cleaning gear. A voice in the back of Josh's mind told him to panic - why the hell did he suddenly have all this gear - but remembering that he had a job to do Josh collected the gear and approached the house. Josh stopped en route to take his jumper off to enjoy the warm sun, not noticing the way his new well-fitted tank top which hung closely to his chest and showed off his slightly more toned arms or the darker shade of his skin...

Josh carried the gear with surprising ease to the front door, and was warmly welcomed by a middle-aged women who introduced herself as Beth. Beth showed Josh to her garden where a medium-sized pool sat, clearly long overdue a clean. Josh thanked Beth, pausing a little at the vague lilt coming out of his month. Was it just him, or just his voice sound deeper...

Josh got to work. The pool needed much more than just some leaves removed but with every task, Josh found himself instinctively knowing what to do. Which pump to use, when to apply chemicals, how to get the pH levels perfect, it all just flooded into Josh's mind. And he was surprised at how flexible he was at reaching all the right places - Josh didn't love manual jobs but he almost felt like his reach had gotten better. It was hot work though and Josh removed his baseball hat and towelled his brow and face, briefly feeling unfamiliar stubble on his face and thick short locks of hair on his scalp.

It wasn't long before Josh has completed his job, a sense of pride sweeping over him as he stared into the now pristine waters. That pride however quickly morphed into confusion as he gazed at the reflection in the shimmering water. Maybe it was distorted, but there was no way that that tall, dark reflection could be him. He was shirt, slender, pale, wasn't he?

He dropped his net and stared at his hands. His suddenly thick, dark hands. Josh began to breath sharply as he noticed just how high up he was, that he was in an outfit that he had never bought, and that his short, pale self had seemingly been replaced with a tanned, lean body.

As Josh was clutching at his newly stubbled face and grasping at the space where his small paunch should be, Beth came out with a pitcher of cool lemonade. Josh spun around in panic, and before Beth could say anything he muttered "lo siento" and ran back to his car.

Josh stopped sharply outside as he stared at the beaten up pick up truck outside Beth's drive, a truck that sat where he thought his mum's sedan should be. A truck that keys in his pocket unlocked. Breathing deeply, and trying his best not to panic, he clampered into the car and pulled down the mirror, staring at the unfamiliar dark eyes that stared back at him. Dark eyes amongst a handsome face, with a strong chin covered in thick but trimmed stubble and framed by dark, tightly curled locks. "What the fuck" Josh uttered, eyes widening at the accented deep voice that emerged.

Josh explored his tightly muscled body now covered in a light sweat when his phone pinged. He unlocked it - the phone recognised his face even if Josh didn't - and the TaskRaccoon app popped up, showing a task completed and $500 dollars deposited in his account.

But what kept Josh's eye though were the other task options appearing. There were more pool cleaning jobs, but also other tasks ranging from moving furniture, plumbing, and even covering people's work shifts. Josh noted that there was an option to cancel his "Premium" membership, but some of the fees weren't to be sniffed at. His breathing calmed down and Josh sat into his car seat, and pondered his options.

To be continued...

****

Hi all!

Some of you may have seen this story on other sites, but I'm bringing it to Tumblr for the first time and with pics! There will also be some small tweaks as I post over the next few weeks.

As always, welcome any feedback or chats!

[f1daydreamer]

Against All Odds

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Single Mom!Reader

---

How They Met

You never thought you’d cross paths with a world-famous Formula 1 driver, let alone have him become a part of your little world. But life had a funny way of surprising you.

It all started on a rainy afternoon in Monaco. You had just finished grocery shopping with your three-year-old son, Luca, when the sky opened up. Balancing the bags and holding Luca’s tiny hand, you rushed under a café awning to avoid getting soaked. That’s when a voice—deep, slightly accented—spoke beside you.

“You okay?”

You turned to see Max Verstappen, hands stuffed in his Red Bull hoodie, watching you with curiosity. You knew who he was, of course. Even if you weren’t a die-hard fan, his face was everywhere in Monaco.

Luca, being his usual chatty self, beat you to responding. “Mama forgot my umbrella,” he informed Max with a dramatic sigh.

Max chuckled. “That’s tough, buddy. But rain is fun, no?”

Luca grinned. “Only if there are puddles!”

Max nodded in understanding. “Puddles are cool.” Then, he glanced at you, offering a small, almost shy smile. “Need some help?”

---

What started as a simple moment under the rain became something more. Max found himself drawn to you and Luca. He started frequenting the café where you worked, always finding an excuse to chat.

At first, you were hesitant. Your life revolved around your son, and the idea of letting someone in—especially someone with Max’s fast-paced, high-profile life—felt risky. But Max was persistent in the gentlest way. He didn’t rush. He didn’t push. Instead, he simply showed up.

He’d bring Luca small gifts from his travels—a toy car from Japan, a tiny Red Bull racing cap from Austria. He’d take time to play with him, letting Luca “race” his toy cars across the café tables while you worked.

And then, one evening, after walking you both home, he hesitated at your doorstep.

“I know this is a lot,” he admitted. “And I don’t want to overstep. But I— I care about both of you. A lot.”

You looked down at Luca, who was already half-asleep in your arms, his tiny fingers curled around Max’s hoodie string.

“You already feel like family,” you whispered.

Max smiled, brushing a stray raindrop from your cheek. “Then let me prove it.”

---

Max loved Luca as if he were his own. From the moment he truly became part of your lives, he embraced every bit of fatherhood that came with it.

Sunday mornings were for racing—well, toy car racing. Max and Luca would sit on the living room floor, each picking their “team” and dramatically announcing their “drivers.” (Luca always picked Red Bull, of course.)

Bedtime stories became a ritual, with Max reading animatedly about adventures, occasionally slipping in exaggerated Dutch accents to make Luca laugh.

Grocery trips turned into mini racing expeditions, with Luca sitting in the cart, pretending to steer while Max pushed it down the aisles like a pit stop crew.

And when Luca had nightmares? Max was there. Every single time. He’d scoop him up, hold him close, and whisper, “You’re safe, little man. I’ve got you.”

One evening, as you all sat curled up on the couch watching a movie, Luca suddenly turned to Max and asked, “Are you my dad now?”

Your breath caught, but Max, without hesitation, ruffled Luca’s hair and said, “If you want me to be, buddy.”

Luca grinned. “You can be my Max-Dad.”

And just like that, Max’s heart was no longer just his own—it belonged to you and your little boy.

Forever.

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

Hey everyone,

I just wanted to say how sorry I am for that terrible one-shot I posted—if you can even call it that. I know it wasn’t my best, and honestly, I’ve been completely out of inspiration lately. Every time I try to write, my brain just blocks itself, and nothing good comes out.

On top of that, school is draining me. We’re so close to the end, yet our teachers keep throwing test after test and endless projects at us. It’s exhausting, and I barely have the energy to focus on writing.

I really appreciate you all sticking around and being patient with me. I promise I’ll be back with better content when I can! Thank you for understanding.

[mandalhoerian]

Xavier seems like the type of guy who doesn't like his person using toys or vibes because they're not *him*

Gets pouty and jealous if they're even mentioned.

continuation of this ask

You are so big brain, anon. It's so in character of him 😭🙏 is it healthy? no. his partner is allowed private time on their own, they don't owe him their pleasure.

But for the sake of fanfiction, picture this:

You mention, offhandedly, that you bought a toy. Just a passing remark, not even thinking about it. Maybe you were joking. Maybe you wanted to tease him. But Xavier, sitting across from you, rapid-blinks like he always does when you catch him off-guard before his face turns blank. Not cold, not angry. Just… blank.

Then he hums, a little soft sound in the back of his throat, like he's contemplating something so profound it has to be philosophical, or science-related.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why would you need that when you have me?"

No change in tone, no outward display of irritation — just that completely neutral, sky-blue stare and a perfectly level, soft voice that somehow makes it worse. Like he's genuinely baffled by the concept of you needing anything else. You're utterly unprepared for this talk and don't even think about having it in the first place, so your go-to response is laughing. And when you do, he doesn't let it go. Oh no, Xavier is the king of petty jealousy masked as cold indifference.

The toy starts to go missing.

At first, you think it's a coincidence. A case of forgetfulness. You’re sure you left it in the drawer, right where it always is (since Xavier feels a disturbance in the Force whenever you so much as breathe in its direction and things escalate each time), but when you reach for it — gone.

You tear through your bedside table, lifting books, checking between the sheets, even peeking under the bed, but there’s nothing. Maybe you misplaced it and don't even remember? It was collecting dust, after all. Maybe it fell behind something? But a full sweep of the room turns up nothing, and you’re left standing there, confused, mildly annoyed, and a little suspicious.

It happens again. And again.

Every time you try to find it, it's missing. And yet, mysteriously, whenever you’ve resigned yourself to its absence, it reappears — tucked into your pillowcase, resting perfectly in the middle of the bed as if placed there on purpose, or sitting in the drawer exactly where you swore you had checked before.

It’s eerie. Almost calculated.

And then, one evening, you try again to confirm. You check the drawer. Empty. You inhale sharply, patience hanging by a thread.

“Xavier.”

Silence. But you know he’s home.

You walk into the living room, arms crossed, and there he is, lounging against the couch, book in hand, looking up at you with that barely-there expression of vague curiosity. A little too casual. A little too composed.

You narrow your eyes. “Where is it?”

He blinks once, slow. “Where is what?”

You swear you see the corner of his mouth twitch.

“You know what.” You plant a hand on your hip, glaring. “My toy keeps going missing.”

Xavier hums, like he's actually thinking about it. “That does sound inconvenient.”

The audacity.

You march over, leaning down to snatch the book from his hands, but before you can, he moves — fast —catching your wrist and pulling you down until you’re practically in his lap, his other hand resting warm and steady against your thigh.

“I suppose,” he muses, tilting his head, voice as light as ever, “you should take better care of your things.”

Your eyes flick fast between his, and you recognize that look. That feather-light amusement. That quiet, infuriating smugness.

“You took it,” you accuse.

“I don’t know what you mean.” He’s still holding you, fingers tracing absentminded circles against your wrist. “But if you’re missing something… maybe I can offer a replacement.”

His grip tightens deliberately. Just enough to make his point. Just enough to tell you that he knows exactly what he’s doing.

And that he isn’t giving it back.

You glare at him, lips parted in an incredulous little gasp. “You—”

But he’s already tilting his head, studying you like you’re some puzzle he’s been waiting to take apart, layers peeling away with each breath. His fingers trace absent patterns along your thigh, as if he’s just idly thinking, and not actively playing with you instead of talking to you about it.

“You seem upset,” he comments, though it lacks any genuine concern. It’s all amusement, low and smooth.

“I am upset,” you shoot back, shifting in his hold, but he doesn’t let go, and worse — his grip tightens. Just enough to remind you that he’s stronger and is keeping you there for a reason. Does he want to have a conversation or else? Probably the latter. Even when he moves slow, there’s no escaping him. “Give it back, Xavier.”

He hums, running a thumb over the inside of your wrist. “What if I don’t?”

You inhale sharply, frustration bubbling over. “Then I’ll buy another one.”

His grip falters.

It’s subtle, but you feel it. A minute shift, his fingers pressing just a little tighter before his whole demeanor changes. You can see the realization flicker like a lightbulb.

He leans in — close enough that you feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek.

“That,” he whisper-says, reverent, “would be a waste.”

Your stomach does something weird at the way he says it. Low, almost contemplative, like he’s already made a decision and you’re just catching up.

You blink. “A waste?”

Xavier tilts his head, and then — finally — gives the tiniest of innocent grins. It’s the first real expression he’s given you since this whole thing started, slow and sharp-edged, something just a little too pleased with itself.

“Show me.”

You can visualize the silence that follows being captured by an imaginary camera from multiple angles for comedic effect.

For a moment, you’re convinced you’ve misheard him. But no, he’s watching you, waiting, eyes gleaming with something new. Something curious. The amusement is still there, but now it’s layered with something deeper. A slow-building, simmering interest.

“What?” you breathe, blinking up at him.

“Show me,” he repeats, completely unaffected. Ears beginning to gather color. “Let me use it.”

A rush of heat floods through you so fast it nearly knocks you off balance. This is new territory.

Your lips part, and you stammer, “Excuse me?”

Xavier doesn’t blink. Doesn’t budge. Just watches you with that perfectly unreadable expression that only makes things worse.

"You seemed very invested in this thing," he says, brushing his knuckles up your arm like he’s still thinking it over. "So I want to know what makes it so special." A pause. Then, a tilt of his head. "What makes it better than me?"

There it is.

Your heart stutters, and for a long moment, you just stare at him, caught between mortification and something dangerously close to intrigue.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mutter, trying to pull away, but his grip does not let up.

“And you’re stalling,” he counters easily. “Which tells me that you do want to.”

You make a noise — something in the back of your throat that isn’t quite a protest but isn’t quite acceptance either.

Xavier just waits.

And waits.

And waits.

Until finally, with your face burning, you mutter, “Fine.”

His fingers flex around your wrist, and then, so very airily, he sighs,

“Good girl.”

And just like that — your toy is no longer missing. But now? It’s in his hands. And that might just be worse.

[norrisjpg]

only angel - ʟɴ⁴

the one where she hits it off one of his driver friends, and meets a new version of lando in the very same night.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten

contains; fluff, dom!lando, nsfw, smut; manhandling, oral (m & f), slit-fucking?, fingering, orgasm denial, kinda voyeurism?, squirting, crying, degradation kink, praise kink; talks of loss of virginity, swearing.

…

…

‘glamour on the grid’, they called it.

“it’ll be fun!” keegan exclaimed, shrugging his shoulders. “come on, lando.”

the four were sat in a sports bar somewhere in melbourne — the group being lando, lily, keegan, and max. lando wasn’t quite sure why they’d gone to a bar, when only two of the four would be drinking — max and keegan — but he’d agreed nonetheless after lily said she wouldn’t drink if he couldn’t.

“and it’d be good for PR,” max added, tilting his head and raising his eyebrows. “come on, bob.”

“yeah, do it for the team!” the younger boy nodded enthusiastically.

lando sighed and flitted his gaze over to the girl beside him, “you’re going, right?”

“i mean, i have an invite.” she shrugged. “but i don’t have anyone to go with, it’s a pairs kind of thing.”

“go with me?” he asked softly, “i don’t wanna be on my own.”

keegan went to speak, probably to say something like ‘you’ll have us!’, but max kicked him under the table as to say — ‘shut up, they’re having a moment.’

“yeah, of course.” she smiled softly, the subtlest of blushes spreading across her cheeks when he kissed her forehead briefly — going unnoticed by all but max.

“so, that’s settled, and you need a suit, mate.” max nodded. “do you need a dress, lala?”

lala.

that stupid nickname max had for her — only the quadrant crew called her that. it was her initials, ria had written them down wrong one day, (they were three letters how did she even get that wrong?) and thus ‘lala’ was born.

“yeah, i do, i’ll just ask dior or something,” she shrugged, almost laughing at the nickname. “do you want me to get you a suit too, lan?”

“yes please, you know my sizes and stuff — i’ll just match you.”

max was sat there, watching the two talk, and something was different. the way lando’s gaze lingered a little more than it usually would, how his voice was soft and low, the look in his eyes that made her seem like she’d hung the stars in the sky.

and even keegan noticed it too. the way lily would blush a little deeper than usual for her, the way she was either constantly touching or looking at him in some way, and her inability to have anything but a smile on her face gave her away completely.

maybe they were dating? no, surely they’d have told them by now.

maybe they were…? the boys basically had no idea what was going on there, but they were going to find out.

-

lily wasn’t impressed, whatsoever.

it wasn’t the fact that he wasn’t with her, it was the fact he was with her, of all girls, of the girl he was having sex with for gods sake!

lando and callie had been chatting all night, and it was pissing lily off — she was very aware of her jealousy and she couldn’t give a fuck.

she was this beautiful blonde girl, tanned with the prettiest eyes lily had ever seen, and the most contagious laugh ever recorded — shit, lily would have taken her out herself if she wasn’t madly in love with the boy she currently had her hand on the arm of.

“you look fucked off,” max pointed out as the two laughed about something.

“i’m not,” she snapped, before sighing and realising that maybe max would be able to see through her lie. “okay, maybe i am, but that’s none of your business.”

“just go and flirt with someone else,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “lando’ll hate that, he almost— actually, that’s a story for another day. just go and find someone else to piss him off with.”

“i don’t want to piss him off though.” she sighed.

“oh, so there is something going on with you and bob then?” max caught her, smiling widely.

she had given herself away.

lily could have made up a lie about why she was annoyed — her time of the month, her dress was itchy, it was too hot — but no, she just let the truth fall from her lips.

in all honesty, everything was perfect, but she wanted her boyfriend— no, best friend to be by her side like he usually was.

“just don’t say anything, okay?” lily huffed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “i’ve only told lex and i don’t know who he’s told, carlos maybe.”

“i won’t, secret is safe with me, as long as this ends in a relationship.” max teased.

she rolled her eyes, before picking up her lemonade and heading off to find her new man for the evening.

-

“no way, i worked with them not too long ago,” he said, crossing his leg over the other as they sat in the quiet corner.

“yeah, i asked them to send me this for tonight last minute,” lily smiled, gesturing to the white sparkly dress clinging to her body. “and well, if this is last minute i really need to up my standards.”

he laughed in response, the adorable gap between his front teeth showing — and no, it wasn’t lando.

lily ainsley was sat with, and had been for the past hour, sir lewis hamilton… talking about fashion of all things.

“we should set up a collab or something,” lewis added, lily nodding as he reached for his drink.

unfortunately, lewis’ hand brushed hard enough against lily’s full glass to send it flying off of the table, somehow not breaking it, but getting lemonade all over the floor and a bit on the bottom of her dress.

“oh my god,” he gasped, clapping his hand to his mouth. “i am so sorry, lily, is it on your dress?”

“only a little bit, don’t worry.” she shook her head with smile, “it’s warm, it’ll dry.”

she couldn’t help but laugh as lewis’ panicked eyes stared at her nonchalance about the situation — lando had spilled many of drinks down her top when he was drunk on nights out — so this was quite minor.

“let me buy you another drink, please?” lewis said, clasping his hands together as he chewed on his lower lip.

“okay, yeah.” she shrugged, a free beverage of any kind was something lily never turned down.

they reached the edge of the busy bar together, and lewis saw the slightly anxious look in her eye, so he simply held his arm out for her to link through.

she mouthed a kind, ‘thankyou’ to him, before they made their way through the swarm of bodies together.

“dude, where’s lily?” keegan asked lando, tapping his arm, while he held up a piece of fabric that had come off of his designer jacket. “i wanna ask her where the fuck this goes.”

“i’m pretty sure that’s your pocket…” lando furrowed his eyebrows. “she’s around here somewhere.”

“what, she’s not with you?” keegan asked, looking at him confused — those two were usually a package deal.

“no—”

“oh there she is!” the australian exclaimed. “oh, fuck nah, she’s with lewis… i’ll go over later.”

“she’s with lewis?” lando’s head snapped up, searching for lily’s familiar face in the foreign crowd. “as in— what the fuck?”

there she was, in all of her angelic glory, laughing softly with one of his childhood heroes — well that was a sight he thought he’d never see.

lewis’ hand was loosely around her waist, mostly to stop her being swept away by the bustling atmosphere of the crowd.

to lando, it was a declaration of war.

-

the uber home was filled with a tense silence, the lingering scent of annoyance and jealousy tainting the air. neither of them spoke, either too stubborn or too pissed off with the night’s antics to talk.

her phone lit up, max fewtrell.

max fewtrell: let me know how it goes with sunshine. he was real pissed earlier. worse than when i broke his gaming chair. good luck!

“lewis?” lando spoke up roughly.

“what?” she looked up from her phone after she’d unlocked it.

“too busy talking to him to listen to what i’m saying, wow.” he huffed, god was this boy dramatic.

“sorry, i thought you were too busy with callie to acknowledge my existence.” she shot back, rolling her eyes as she replied to max.

‘he’s in such a piss. i should have just left it be. i hate your ideas, fuck you!’

“oh please, you were all over lewis! he’s double your fucking age, lily!” lando snapped, raising his voice at her — something he never did.

“well maybe that’s because you were too busy being a slut to acknowledge my existence!” she shot back.

he laughed, he fucking laughed.

the rest of the ride was silent, it wasn’t even tense — something was looming, lando was planning something, she could tell.

the uber was paid and tipped gratefully, and the two took the elevator back to their hotel room. his hands weren’t on her, which worried her a little — either she had upset him, or he was saving it for once they were behind closed doors (she hoped it was the latter of the two.)

the door closed behind them, and it was like a switch flipped inside of the brit.

“a slut, huh?” lando chuckled lowly, grabbing lily and throwing her over his shoulder roughly.

“lando— put me down, lando!” she hit his back, with no real force — but she didn’t want to seem desperate.

“shut up.” he grumbled, putting her down on the floor so she was stood up.

“thank—”

his hands were on her hips, spinning her away from him. lando’s large hands managed to undo the zip on the back of the dress with ease, before he pulled it down and pushed the item off of her body.

he smirked to himself as she let him, not protesting as he spun her back around to face him.

“on your knees,” he nodded, unbuttoning his shirt.

she looked up at him, dazed and very turned on by this new version of lando she was met with.

“are you deaf?” he snapped “i said on your knees.”

lily got her knees gently, the cold tiles of the floor making the position a little uncomfortable.

he nodded, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek — she knew what he meant, wordlessly telling her to get to work.

his belt was undone by her slender fingers, and to her surprise, he wasn’t fully hard, meaning she was actually going to have to—

no, the first brush of lily’s fingers on his shaft sent it upward, slapping up against his abdomen. the thought of teasing him swirled around her mind briefly, but the look in lando’s eye told her to think otherwise.

a warm splatter of saliva dripped onto the tip of his cock, lubing the tip as she then took it in her mouth. her lips expertly wrapped around him, taking him deep down her throat straight away, swirling her tongue around every part she could reach. he groaned, clenching his jaw as he began to thrust slowly into her mouth.

she bobbed her head to meet his thrusts, tears welling in her eyes as he crammed his cock into her mouth.

“so much more polite with my dick in your mouth, aren’t you, angel?” he said, almost sweetly.

she made a muffled sound around him, not daring to pull off until his seed was deep in her throat.

her jaw was starting to lock, and the tears spilled down her face.

lily could feel him twitching inside of her mouth, and she was about to speed her movements up, when he pulled his cock out of her mouth.

loosely wrapping a hand around her throat, he pulled her gently, getting her to stand up, before pushing her onto the bed.

“ass up,” he commanded, helping her a little as she buried her face in the pillow.

he gazed down at her white underwear, clearly soaked and most likely ruined. one clean swipe rendered them (and her) useless, her panties tossed across the room with any dignity she had left.

“don’t even deserve to be fucked,” he muttered, taking his cock and pushing it though her folds, notching at her entrance.

he positioned his cock so it sat snugly in her puffy folds, bumping up against her clit every time he pushed forward.

“you think lewis could make you feel like this, baby?” he spoke cockily as she shuddered, thighs clenching as he pushed down her slit agonisingly slowly — holding back his own moan.

“n-no,” she choked out, moaning as her lower tummy fizzed with need.

“then why were you with him?” he pried, knowing the real reason — he’d spoken to max.

“tryna’ make—” she moaned softly as he brought his thumb forward to toy at her needy entrance. “get your attention, didn’t like seeing you with her.”

“so you were whoring yourself out with my rival?” he questioned lowly. “you could have just told me you were a pathetic mess for me, you know?”

her body was so hungry for him, pushing back against his slow thrusts into her slit — that the tears from earlier in their escapades resurfaced, streaming down her face.

he knew she was crying, but until there was an apology for calling him a slut, there wouldn’t be any letting up on her.

lando continued to thrust forward, her whimpers quiet and low. so, in aid of not being able to hear her, he slipped two fingers inside of her weeping entrance — pumping them hard and deep with no warning.

her slick was dripping onto his dick, coating it in a warmth as it slid back and forth though her folds. the previous stimulation of being buried deep inside of her throat helped him get close quickly, and he could tell she was close by the way her hips jerked when he scissored his fingers apart.

but he was closer than she was, and a sick though passed through his head and into his movements.

the brit pulled his fingers from her, grabbing his cock and pumping it on top of her ass. he let out a guttural groan, shooting thick webs of cum over her perfect ass and picturesque back — “fuck, stay there.”

she sobbed and whined out as his fingers left her hole, feeling empty without his digits stuffed deep inside of her.

he leaned down off of the bed and fished his phone out of his pants pocket, before repositioning himself as before.

“let me take a photo, yeah, baby?” lando asked roughly. “look so fucking pretty like this.”

she hummed, pushing her ass up toward him. flicking to the camera, he placed his hand on her lower ribcage, pulling her marked body back toward him, and snapped a photo.

“lando,” lily whimpered, thighs shaking a little at the loss of her much needed high.

“i’m sorry, what was that, lils?” he asked condescendingly, flipping her from her tummy onto her back. “wanna repeat that?”

“lan,” she murmured, lower lip caught between her teeth.

“oh, pretty baby,” lando teased, leaning over her so their faces met. “shoulda’ though ‘bout what you wanted before you decided to be a bitch.”

“i’m sorry,” she murmured. “didn’t mean it, promise, ‘m so sorry, lan.”

“there she is,” lando switched, his whole mentality flipped based on a few words. “there’s my pretty girl.”

“‘m sorry,” she repeated, tears streaming down her face.

“i know you are, i know you didn’t mean it.” he reassured her, pressing soft kisses to the tear stains on her cheeks. “tell me what you need, and i’ll give it to you, angel.”

the addition of the please popped on the end sealed the deal for him, and he nodded, gently connecting their lips as to say — sorry for being a prick.

“mouth, need your mouth.” she nodded quickly, “please.”

“mhm, there’s my good girl.” he praised, nodding at her as he gazed into her soul.

lando pressed kisses down from her throat, through the valley of her breasts, over her tummy, and softly began his mission to bring his girlfriend— no, best friend into a world of mind-bending pleasure.

“open up for me baby,” he asked softly, placing his hands on her inner thighs.

she spread her legs shakily, letting him have full access to her slick pussy.

lando flattened his tongue against her pussy, groaning against her as he lapped up her juices. he circled her clit, pressing his thumb into her entrance to tease her.

she clenched around him, moaning softly as he closed his lips around her clit, gently sucking it as he replaced his thumb with two thick fingers, sliding into her tight heat with a little resistance. lily whined, clenching around his digits as he set the same pace he had previously kept.

“lan…” she let out a guttural groan, eyes rolling back. “fuck— gonna cum…”

it was embarrassing how quickly she came, inner walls convulsing around his fingers, legs shaking, liquid gushing from her and a large portion of it spraying into his mouth.

he whined into her pussy pathetically, drinking her up without hesitation. “so pretty,” he murmured, toying with her clit as her hips bucked away from him.

“my pretty girl.”

-

the morning drew in, and the tanned arms around her body stayed here, tightening every now and again.

“morning.” he said groggily, lifting his head from the crook of her neck.

“good morning.” she yawned softly.

“i’m um… sorry, about yesterday.” lando began softly, “just um… i just didn’t like you and lewis, and i went the wrong way about it completely, i‘m sorry,” he sighed, blinking at the girl. “i shouldn’t have been with callie, i went there with you, not her.”

“it’s okay, lan, really, i overreacted — but i promise you, nothing is there with me and lewis, he’s just a friend i promise.” lily reassured him, gently carding her fingers through his soft curls.

“i know, i was being a twat.” he pursed his lips. “i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay, i promise.” she nodded softly, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose.

“why don’t we make an agreement?” lando suggested. “while we’re doing this, there’s no one else. we’re like… exclusive to each other.”

a soft blush spread across her face, and she smiled at the boy wrapped around her.

“yeah, yeah that sounds good.”

-

god this one was actually so hard to write i almost died — more coming soon!

[eclipse-msoul]

MISFORTUNATE LADY

✙ Yandere Mafia Dark! Bat family X Reader ✙

Synopsis : You had the misfortune of catching their eye. Oh, why did you have to make such a stupid mistake? Now you could only cry , hoping for them to leave you alone.

Warnings : Stalking, murder, no care for human life, anxiety, non-consentual touching, Non-consentual drug use

Chapter 1 :-

It was a dark and cloudy night. Clouds had filled the Gotham sky, making its inhabitants bear the dark and shadows in their full glory. In this city of everlasting twilight, sounds of muffling screams could be heard from one particular warehouse.

“ Tsk-” A figure groaned, boredom latched in his tone as he pierced a blade through his little victim's finger. The victim screamed in agony unable to stop tears from swelling underneath his eyes.

“ Fuck…” Jason cursed under his breath, his eyes narrowing in disgust as he stared at his victim wetting himself. He held his head feeling a headache overtake him. “ Oi replacement.”

No response.

“Little shit I know you can hear me.” Jason commented. A grunt was heard on the other side.

A man in his early twenties let out a yawn, his hand picking up a cup of coffee and bringing it near his throat. He chugged it down in an instant and let out an exhausted gasp. “ Don't scream at me Jay.” He sighed in his com before sharpening his eyes.

“Tell the Old man the fucker useless !” Jason retorted.

Tim pressed the mouse and several screens appeared in front of him. “Dick's got a lead to the traitors place. So it seems this waste of space is useless-” the computer screen zoomed at the victim mobbed and on his last breath with eyes begging for mercy.

Tim lazily sneered, lagging back at his comfortable seat.

“ Deal with him as you wish.” and the comm went off. Those words were all that was needed before red liquid splashed on Jason's face. He got up and went up to the table. Various torture devices were placed on the table - ranging from mild to painful ones.

Jason took out a handkerchief and removed the victim's blood from ruining his face. The moonlight highlighted his sharp green glowing eyes while he remained cold to the corpse rotting mere steps away.

He walked out the door and casually threw the bloody handkerchief on one of the guard's. “Dispose of the body.” he commanded in cold words. The guards bowed and went in while Jason took off on his motorbike Parker not too far away from the entrance.

He soon arrived at the Mansion. As soon as he stepped inside his room, a notification sound came on his phone. He took it out and his cold and aggressive eyes turned tender. A warm smile formed on his lips.

He quickly dialed the number and waited impatiently while the phone rang. Two rings and you finally picked up.

“ Hello?” You asked, your voice drowsy.

“Hello? Who is this?” Jason looked at his phone and couldn't help but think your furrowed eyebrows while you sat on your bed looked undeniably cute.

Jason snickered and playfully responded. “ Angel, it's me. ” He responded before, a loud sound of thug was heard followed by the phone going silent.

He looked at the screen to see you had ended the call and blocked him.

Again.

He sighed before falling back down on his bed. You sure loved to play hard to get. He thought before tiredness overtook him and he fell into a deep slumber.

On the other side, you were panicking - sweat formed on your forehead while you took several deep breaths. Your body was quivering in fear all while you tried to stabilize your breathing and sit back on your bed.

It took ten minutes before you could even find enough courage to get up. But you believed anyone would react the same way when faced with a situation like yourself. Others might even respond worse - you were still undeniably trying to keep a stable mind.

Why the hell was this happening to you?

You didn't know what sin you committed last month. It had merely been thirty two days since you had moved to this particular neighborhood in Gotham. Nothing seemingly different had happened in your seemingly ordinary life before things went stray.

You were going insane.

Snapping up to look at the sounds of several flashes you couldn't even cry. These bastards! What did you even do? How did you end up with psychopathic lunatics as your stalkers!

They weren't even trying to be subtle about their stalking either.

They were slow in the beginning- with your things going missing and not being present in the same place.

Then they started leaving notes.

And now this!

You wanted to hit someone! After all, what wrong did you even do? A loud sound of a message popping up was heard throughout your room. You gulped and stepped up to pick your phone from the table while you had just thrown it away.

XXXX-XXXXXXX

Cover your eyes and sit in your usual place.

You bit the lower end of your lips before sending a message of agreement.

XXXX-XXXXXXX

Understood.

It didn't take long to find the binding cloth. You have done this several times, wrapped it around your eyes and tightened its hold on your face and sat quietly like a lamb waiting for its slaughter.

The sound of the clock ticking chipped away your anxiety with each second passing by. Your body sitting on the soft bed felt sore and cold. But you could do nothing but wait.

Finally sounds of light footsteps were heard. You noted there were two this time. Soon a large muscular hand pulled you up and entrapped you in a tight embrace. “Y/n!” A joyful voice soaked with honey was heard.

Your body stiffened uncontrollably while you tried to prevent yourself from breaking down crying.

“ She's looking more pale than usual.” you heard a small voice mutter. You didn't move, not even a bit.The one holding you replied in a concerned tone, “ You're right.” He moved his lips closer to your ear before whispering, “ Babe did you eat anything?”

Babe? This delusional bastard-

Your fist tightened and you replied hesitantly, “ Yes.” this would be enough wouldn't it? You didn't want to tell him or them anymore.

“ Lier.” The same soft voice from earliest rang closer to you. You could guess the woman (stalker) was close to your age making this situation more ridiculous. How could they do this?

“ Explain Cass.” The man holding you commanded.

“ She barely ate. She's been vomiting out all that she ate since morning.” And who was to blame for that! You wanted to scream but you kept quiet.

You heard the man sigh before out of nowhere he picked you up and gently carried you to bed.

Placing you back there, you felt something pushed near your mouth. “ It's fruit.” He spoke, trying to calm you.

“ Don't worry it's not drugged, eat some.We can't have you getting sick or addicted so early on.” You finally opened your mouth only to get tricked.

His lips touched yours.

This bastard-

You found it hard to breathe. His tongue tried to push into your mouth all while you tried to futilely refuse but in the end he won. His tongue dived deep into your mouth and exchanged his body fluids with yours.

He was devouring you like some monster. You felt so helpless and in pain. Finally after what was like forever he pulled out.

You pushed him away with all your might and stood up only to lose your balance due to an unstable supply of oxygen for you know how long.

“ Y-You tricked me!” You breathed out, your eyes still covered leaving you helpless.

Dick chuckled and met his sister's eyes. “ Couldn't help myself Love.” His tone was so no serious, it was like he didn't care.” You looked too adorable to miss out on.” He added, like it would make the situation better. You trembled.

He huffed and tendly brought his hands closer to you. Those large muscular hands pinched your lovely pink cheeks before moving near your neck.

He who stood behind you opened his mouth and bit into your neck. You let out a shriek only for your lips to be captured again.

This time by the woman named Cass.

You felt a small pill in your mouth and realized it was one of those drugs. But before you could try and vomit it out. The woman's tongue pushed it back of your oral cavity and you mistakenly swallowed it.

By the time both of their bodies separated from you, your mind was overtaken by an unfortunate state of paralysis.

You felt dazed which was followed by a big headache. Your body lost consciousness and was caught by the oldest Wayne son.

Cass observed Dick picking you up and helping you cover yourself with a blanket. “ She's going to be unable to move her hands or walk. .” Dick's body stilled before he lazily asked.

But Cass could tell his body language was tense. She was a master of it after all. “ What are you getting at?” Cass signed, “ Why give her that when we already have a tight lease on her?”

“ Cass Cass, my dear sister.” Dick placed a hand on her shoulder, “ We need to secure our treasure. If there's even a tiny possibility of her leaving us. Then I'll cut it down from the roots. The Wayne’s do not take chances.”

Dick spoke those words before jumping out from the windows. Cass followed right behind him but not before lingering another pitiful glance at your sleeping figure.

You truly were unlucky.

★★(TBC)★★

♛┈⛧┈┈•༶.・゜゜・.・゜゜・༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

SOOOOOO- What do you folks think? Interesting enough or should I make it more gore?

Any kind of feedback or even you saying hi to me. Motivates me. (Comment please my cuties)

Also Hope you guys enjoy and Thanks for reading 🩷

Tag list : @lilyalone , @kore-of-the-underworld

[aleskie]

hii!! hope you’re having a week day, i was wondering if you could write max verstappen angst after 2021 baku dnf?

HIIIII ANON! I actually don't remember what the lore with baku 2021 was ajnskskj so i hope you like this general DNF comfort fic instead MWAH

WHY DOES SHE GIVE A DAMN ABOUT ME | Max Verstappen x Reader

SUMMARY: Max is a winner. But when it comes crashing down, you've got him.

Warnings: None. Hurt with comfort!

He doesn’t say anything when he comes back home — just closes the door a little harsher than usual and heads straight to the terrace after making himself a gin and tonic. He needs to calm down. You know that. You don’t follow him right away. You give him space.

Max was a champion. He won. That’s what he did, what he was born to do, what he was trained to become. Losing took a toll on him — whether it was a DNF or finishing out of the points. It never felt good. But there were things to learn from it, things to improve on. Both on his end as a driver and with the constructor’s team for the car. He could live with that.

But having a car malfunction? Not finishing the race? And when you were in second place? That hurt. That really hurt.

The sun is sinking lower, casting long shadows across the terrace as he sips his drink. The ice clinks softly against the glass. It’s calming, a familiar ritual — but you can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw stays tight. There’s a lot on his mind. What he could’ve done better. Where he’d be in the championship if he’d won. The what-ifs, the could-have-beens.

You watch him from the doorway for a moment before stepping outside. You don’t say anything. You just sit beside him, quiet and steady, while the sky turns gold and the weight of disappointment settles with the evening breeze.

“I hate myself,” he says, taking another sip from his drink. His words are slurred just enough to tell you he’s a little tipsy — no surprise, considering the drink he poured earlier was mostly gin with just the barest splash of tonic. “I’m a fucking loser. I lost.”

“Don’t say that,” you reply softly, keeping your voice gentle. “The car malfunctioned. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Was it not?” He lets out a sharp, bitter laugh and takes another swig. “I can drive bad cars. I’ve done it before. I’ve pushed them to their limits and I made it work—I made it win. But I couldn’t drive this one? Couldn’t win in it? Fucking pathetic.”

You want to reach for his hand, but you don’t. Not yet. You know that right now, he’s fighting a battle in his own head — one you can’t quite pull him out of. So you stay close, your voice steady even when his isn’t.

“You’re not pathetic,” you say quietly. “You’re one of the best drivers in the world. Four championships, Maxie—that’s nothing to scoff at.”

“It doesn’t feel like it,” he mutters, his eyes fixed on the horizon. The sunset’s almost gone now, the sky bleeding into deeper shades of blue and orange. “Feels like I’m just…wasting everyone’s time. Wasting my time. Wasting yours.”

The ice clinks again as he lifts the glass, and for a second, you wish the drink would run out. But you know the problem isn’t the gin. It’s everything that’s come before it — the pressure, the expectation, the disappointment.

“You’re not wasting anything—especially not my time or my energy,” you say. “You had a bad day. That’s all it was.”

He shakes his head. “It’s never just one day. It’s every day that comes after it, every chance that slips away. And I—” His voice breaks, just for a second, before he swallows it down with the rest of his drink. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this.”

That’s when you reach for his hand. And this time, he lets you.

“That’s fine too.” You plant a kiss on the back of his hand. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”

“But I do.” He pulls his hand away and runs it through his hair. “I have to prove it. To the team. To the fans. To dad. To you—”

“You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

He finally looks at you, and it’s worse than you expected. His eyes are red-rimmed, his face drawn tight with exhaustion and frustration and something deeper—something you don’t know how to fix.

“Don’t I?” he whispers. His voice is so quiet, but the weight of those words hangs heavy between you. “You think you’d still love me if I stopped winning? If I stopped trying?”

“But you aren’t not trying,” you say, your voice soft but steady. “You try your best with everything you do. And that’s one of the reasons I love you.”

He shakes his head, his jaw clenching like he’s holding back something that’s threatening to break free. “No. You love the champion. You love the winner. And that’s not who I am right now. This…this isn’t who you signed up for.”

“Don’t tell me who I love,” you snap, your voice trembling. “And don’t treat this relationship like it’s some kind of contract. I didn’t sign up for anything. I’m here because I want to be. Because I love you. Even now—when you’re hurting, when you’re in pain. I still love you.”

For a second, he just stares at you, and you can see the war happening behind his eyes—the fight between believing you and the doubts that have been eating away at him for weeks. Maybe months.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be good enough for you,” he whispers finally, his voice breaking. “And I want to be. God, I want to be perfect for you. But I…I can’t.”

Your chest aches. That helpless, hollow kind of ache that comes when you want so badly to fix something — someone — and you know you can’t. All you can do is hold his hand tighter, like maybe that will stop him from slipping away completely.

“You are,” you say softly. “You’re perfect. Just like this.”

He closes his eyes, but a tear escapes anyway, sliding down his cheek. He doesn’t wipe it away. “It’s been a tough season,” he murmurs. “The car is fucked. And I—I don’t know how to keep you if I can’t even keep this seat. And I don’t even know who I am without the wins.”

“You’re a four-time world champion,” you remind him, your fingers brushing through his hair. “You’re dragging a seventh-place car to third place. That’s more than enough. You are doing so much—more than anyone should have to.”

You guide his head to rest on your shoulder, feeling the way his breath stutters against your skin. “You can rest for now,” you whisper. “You don’t have to carry all of this alone.”

For the first time that night, his body eases—just a little—against yours. The tension doesn’t vanish, not completely, but you feel the slightest shift, the way his weight leans into you like he’s finally allowing himself to stop holding it all together. And you hold him like you’re trying to keep him from falling apart—like if you hold him tight enough, maybe you can take some of that hurt away.

His breath slows, but every now and then it still catches, like there’s something inside him he can’t quite let go of. You press your lips to his hair, soft and reassuring, and whisper, “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he says, voice rough and low.

“You do,” you insist. “And I’ll keep telling you that until you believe it.”

He doesn’t answer right away, but his fingers tighten around yours. And for now, that’s enough.

[scorpioriesling]

Could I request a fourth wing xaden x reader where she gets hurt on a mission and xaden just goes bat shit protecting her injured/dying body “nobody touches her” style?

Nobody Touches Whats Mine

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Xaden x reader

Warning(s): posessive Xaden, light description of injury

Summary: When you are hurt on a mission and Garrick is the one that brings you back to safely, your boyfriend doesn't take the gesture so kindly.

SR’s Note: Ooh we love a posessive, dark shadow daddy don't we? The girlies that get it, get it. Enjoy nonetheless! <3

Tags: @mellowmusings @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @velarisdusk @nctsawrus @freakishfandomfiend (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

It throbbed. Throbbed.

"How much longer?"

Your question came out so breathless, you throught Garrick may not have heard you. Reguardless, he glances worriedly down at you.

"Ten minutes."

His response is short, and the way his grip around your waist tightens reconfirms his worry. You'd never been particularly close to your boyfriend's best friend, however he was the only one able and available to help you today when you got hurt.

Xaden would loose it when he saw you.

You knew it, Tairn knew it -- and you were sure Garrick knew it, too.

His hold tightened on you again as Chradh prepared for the final descent, and your muscles strained as the winged dragon dipped lower among the clouds. The drop in altitude made you see stars, and you began seeing black spots at the corner of your vision.

"Hold on!" Garrick shouted, despite holding you practically in his lap. "Just a few minutes, Y/N. Please Gods -- hold on."

You tried, really you did -- but the effort was nearly more than you could handle. Between the pain spreading from your lower leg up through your thigh, and the throbbing in your head -- you were tempted to let unconsciousness overtake you.

Surprise had your eyes winking open once more as the brown scorpiontail landed, the gesture much softer than you were used to with Tairn. Loathing gripped your gut as you realized he probably did it out of pity -- at you, your situation, your injuries.

Garrick quickly unstrapped from the harness behind you, making quick work of unhooking your security straps before sliding down his dragon's foreleg. He gripped you tight to his chest, and you seethed in pain at the movements. In minutes though, his feet hit the ground and you were repositioned once more; this time, lying limply in his arms.

You gazed half-lidded up at the afternoon sky, gray with the incoming storm. The light breeze brushed the wisps of loose hair across your forehead, but you were in too much pain to bother brushing them away.

The moment of peaceful bliss, however, dissipated as your boyfriend cleared the entrance of Riorson house.

"What in the Hell happened, Garrick!"

His usually calm tone was gone, replaced with what could only be described as pure fury. You craned your neck to search for him, you sight catching on his large approaching form.

"Xaden I did the best I could-"

You felt a niggling sense of guilt as you felt Garrick's heartbeat pick up speed. This was, truthfully your fault -- if you hadn't left to search the isle in the first place, this wouldn't have happened, and another cadet would not be being blamed for your injuries.

"You didn't try fucking hard enough," he roared, his voice now hovering over you. Your eyes met his, and your brows knit at the absence of his mask of cool calm.

Garrick quickly lifted you into Brennan's grasp -- you hadn't even registered his approach -- as he continued shouting with his best friend. Brennan stared sadly at you, turning to bring you inside and get to work.

"She needs attention on her leg, and probably her head-" Garrick called, and your brother only nodded. You peered around his arm, looking back at the grizzly scene you retreated from.

Xaden shoved Garrick, his rage more palpable by the second.

"You should have been the one paying attention to her to begin with!" He raged, and Garrick glared at him.

"I fucking was, Riorson! Why the fuck do you think we came back so quickly? I did everything I could-"

Xaden growled, grabbing his friend by the jacket collar and snarling in his face.

"You didn't do enough."

It was the last thing your brain could process before your eyes closed, your brain spiraling into unconsciousness.

✧･ﾟ: *

When your eyes opened once more, the sun had set and the light that filled the room came from overhead. You squinted, raising a hand to shield some of it from your vision. The room was quiet, smelled of saline, and seemed too bright for midnight — despite the moon hung high in the sky outside.

You made to sit up, wincing in pain as your leg muscles defied you. Glancing down, you took in the sight; your leg, bandaged around the knee with stitches peeking out from beneath it.

Great.

Recollections of what happened earlier begin coming back to you, all the way from arriving at the isle early in the morning to the wyvern battle to Garrick, unstrapping you from Tairn in an attempt to fly you back to safety.

Tairn.

You reach out mentally, your chest heaving as your breathing became shallow. He'd been conscious enough to fly himself back to Aretia -- at least, that's what he had communicated before Garrick had swept you away on Chradh's back.

You try again, unable to get any kind of response from him. Your train of thought is interrupted when the door slowly swings open, your favorite person appearing in the doorway.

Xaden.

"Xaden..." you whimper, your eyes filling with tears. He strides over to you, sitting on the edge of the bed and immediately wrapping his arms around you. Shadows brush lightly across your legs, tickling lightly as they made their way up to your arms. Breathing in his familiar minty scent, you relax a little, the world's problems fading ever so slightly.

He pulls back, gazing straight into your eyes when he speaks.

"Brennan said you'd be awake soon." You nod, and he pulls you into his chest once more. His strong arms hold you so close, and you have to practically pry yourself from his grip to look up at him again.

"Xaden... today, I-"

"I know," he interrupts, his gaze roving over you in an assessing manner. "Garrick filled me in."

His calm tone was so at odds with the way he absolutely lost his shit earlier, and you level him with a look.

"So, you know it wasn't all his fault, then." You state, and Xaden sighs.

"Yes -- don't worry, I apologized. We made up," he assures, but you only fold your arms over your chest.

"You really shouldn't have yelled at him like that, Xaden. Going on the mission today was a choice I made," you reiterate. "A choice I made, knowing full well that Wyvern would likely come for us."

His brows pinch, his eyes loosing their warmth. "Right -- a rediculous choice, at that. Why would you think going into unknown territory, unarmed, without me was a good-"

"Oh my Gods, Xaden," you sigh exasperatedly. "Just because you weren't there doesn't mean it would have gone differently if you were."

He huffs, his hand gently caressing your cheek.

"It might have." He says quietly. "I could've prevented... this, maybe." He gestures to your leg. "And if not, I could have been the one to carry you home."

His voice cracking on the last word sent a wave of fresh tears gathering in your waterline, but you grinned nonetheless.

"You didn't like that Garrick was touching me, did you."

It came out as more of a statement than a question. Xaden's dark eyes met yours again, and he leaned in to press a kiss to your lips.

"I never want anyone else touching what's mine. Whether it be a wyvern, a darkweilder, fellow rider or even my best friend. You are mine."

✧･ﾟ: *

[lemotmo]

Okay 911 fandom...

I feel like I've been very nice about this before and I always figured it would all just disappear after a while, but this insane Ryan Guzman hatred is getting out of hand. And frankly? It is pissing me off!

So, let's get something very clear here:

This whole concept some people have in their head that Ryan is the reason why Buddie won't ever go canon? IT IS WRONG!

The man has screamed Buddie from the beginning. He came up with the name for Christ's sake. Just because some of you only joined the fandom after 7x04, doesn't mean you get to shit on this guy. You don't know the lore or the history. So shut up!

This idea that Ryan is a bad actor and he is botching up his scenes with Oliver, because Oliver clearly plays Buck as in love with Eddie?

Again... WROOOONG!

Buck is sooo much further on the Buddie path than Eddie is. All he has time for right now is his son! Ryan is NOT going to play Eddie smitten with Buck, because he isn't there yet in the narrative. He obviously cares deeply for Buck though and we see it in everything Ryan puts into his acting. He is obviously a talented actor and artist. So again... SHUT UP!

If I see any of you threaten the man over a fucking fictional ship on a TV-show? I will report you on whichever platform you are on and I'll make sure that everyone knows who you are so they can block you accordingly. Are you insane?! You cannot threaten people for doing their job.

And NO! Nobody is going to recast Eddie because you have it in your stupid little ignorant dumb minds that the man is a misogynist, a sexist, a racist, a terrible father (ARE YOU CRAZY! YOU CANNOT CALL A MAN YOU DO NOT KNOW A BAD FATHER! WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN SMOKING!?) and a whole other slew of things that are simply made up in your own head!

He made one single mistake a loooong time ago. He admitted that he was in a very dark place around that time. He even talked about trying to take his own life at a certain point. How much more honesty do you need?

After that mistake he apologised and he has obviously worked really hard to become a better guy. We can hear that in every interview he does. Stop spreading the narrative that people can't be forgiven after they apologise. What age are you? Four??? Of course people can be forgiven. It's called growth. This insane cancel-culture that has been growing rampant for the last couple of years has gone to all of your heads. Wake up and SHUT UP!

Stop these ridiculous claims and please do everyone a favour! Move on to another fandom where miserable people like you are welcome.

For years now this fandom has been a great place to be in. I love it here! But I've had it with the insane hate-campaigns against a guy just doing his job.

I won't even go into the insane Eddie hate I have seen lately.

This has got to stop!

I am still not a Ryan stan, but I am a decent human being and admirer of his work. So whatever has been going on lately? It is NOT right and we should all shout that from the top of our lungs.

If anyone is reading this and recognises themselves in what I have written here? Please step outside, touch grass, look at the sky and if you are following me? Kindly unfollow me. Thank you.

If anyone is reading this and feels the same way? Feel free to follow. I promise that I don't often make posts like this. I try to spread the fandom positivity as much as I can. So expect lots of that here.

Can we now just go back to enjoying what is really important here? Buddie is about to go canon. Let's celebrate and have fun! We've been waiting years for this. This is our time.

[theseinfernalangels]

Rest Up — Bodhi Durran

Synopsis: After non-stop training and combat, Bodhi managed to convince you to crash for the night and lets you sleep in. Xaden is a little wary at first, but luckily, your lover makes for an excellent advocate. (Marked!Reader)

A/N: This was not something I planned to write lol; this actually came from a short conversation between me and @she-whatshername under one of her posts! Also we love to see Platonic!Xaden – people need to write him more as someone’s friend. Unedited because I’m tired lol.

.

An inhale followed by a low groan tells you that Bodhi is awake and ready for action at the crack of dawn. You should be, too – but aches lingering in your joints from the previous night prevent you from moving even an inch.

        It’s strange. Usually, you’re up and bound to seize the day even before the sun dominates the sky. Your attitude and responsibility is what earned you your role as Wingleader. But, cuddled up next to Bodhi, you can’t find it in you to actually care.

        Warm hands glide over your waist and settle over your stomach, and the next thing you know, you’re being pulled closer – if that’s even possible – into Bodhi’s hold. His lips dip and rest close to the top of your spine, right where the relic of your dragon, Spéir, comes to a head.

        “Hey, you,” he mumbles into your skin, sending a little chill through you. “You’re not up and at ‘em yet?”

        Your eyes aren’t even open yet, your words slightly slurred as you reply. 

        “No,” you reply. “I…Don’t think I can, right now. Everything still hurts after yesterday.”

        Yesterday. Bodhi lets out a soft ah of understanding. The previous day had proved nothing but troublesome for you, between the usual non-stop training you led combined with what could have been a fatal wyvern attack for you and your friends. Even after that, with blood dripping from your face and exhaustion singing in your bones, you still hadn’t relented and went straight back to training. Bodhi had been pissed.

Now, in retrospect, you realized he’d had a point; Spéir had gotten injured in yesterday’s battle, and by extension, you were suffering, too – but when had that ever slowed you down?

Here in your lover’s arms, though, you supposed you could be convinced to take a break.

He dips his head down and peppers a trail of kisses across the width of your shoulders. “Don’t even think about getting up right now. You need to rest.”

For once in your life, you don’t argue. “Wasn’t gonna. I feel like I just got bowled over by a loose cannon.”

You hear a quiet laugh leave his throat, and you let out a soft whine of protest when he starts to shift up and away from you.

“‘M sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs, leaning back down to press another kiss on your arm, right over your Rebellion Relic. The gentle brush of his lips against the mark sends a spark down your spine. “Xaden will understand if you don’t show up for formation. I don’t get that luxury.”

You snort half-heartedly. “Probably not. Jus’ tell him not to kick my ass yet; he can get the privilege once I don’t feel like shit.”

You grin weakly when you hear Bodhi bark out a laugh. You’re not looking at him, but you know exactly how he’s looking at you right now: Head tilted, eyes half-lidded, with a soft smile spread across his devastatingly-handsome face. He always looks at you like you’re the one that beckons the sun into the sky everyday, like you’re some kind of miracle that needs to be treasured at all costs. He’d probably look at you like that even if you were the sun, eyesight be damned.

“Alright,” he says, his voice clear and gentle. “Go back to sleep, love. I’ll come wake you up later, and we’ll see if a healer can do anything for you.”

You don’t even say anything back. You fell back into sleep faster than he could get his words out.

He chuckles quietly to himself. “Cute.”

༊*·˚ *ੈ

Xaden knows something is up when Bodhi shows up at formation without you.

It’s not in his cousin’s nature to ever be alone; usually, he’ll be with Xaden, a friend, or another squad member. If not them, then it’s you. When it’s not you…He doesn’t even know. Nothing bothered Bodhi Durran more than to be alone.

He simply raises an eyebrow at his cousin when he approaches. “Where the hell is Levine?”

Bodhi falls into place beside Xaden, not missing a beat. “Lovely to see you, too, on this fine morning,” he says dryly. “Nice weather we’re having.”

Xaden doesn’t smile. It’s not only unlike his cousin to be alone, but it’s certainly unlike you to not be one of the first ones there. “What happened?”

The younger boy falls silent for a second before he sighs. “I told her to go back to sleep. Everything that happened yesterday took a toll on her, and she’s not feeling too well.”

A small part of Xaden warms at his cousin’s words. Trust the boy to be able to convince you, one of the most stubborn Wingleaders, to stay in for a day for a break. It’s more impressive that he was able to get you into bed at all, but his eyebrows still furrow. “Are you…Coddling her? She’s woken up in worse situations, you know.”

He’s slightly surprised when Bodhi’s gaze snaps over to his, and they make even eye contact that borders on…something challenging.

“I’m aware,” the younger man says, his voice growing firm. “But you saw her out there yesterday. She fought harder than anyone out there, even when Spéir got hurt. And you know what? She still oversaw sparring and Battle Brief before I could even think about getting her to a healer.”

His voice lowers. “I’m not coddling her, Xaden. She doesn’t need me to do that. She’s a grown, respectable woman. I’m making sure the love of my life doesn’t burn herself out just because she likes to overwork herself. Don’t pretend you wouldn’t do the same for Violet.”

Xaden has a sharp retort for Bodhi on the tip of his tongue, but he falters at the mention of Violet. He can’t really argue with that, he realizes. He would – and has – done the exact same thing for the woman. Multiple times, actually. Xaden may be a petty man, but he’ll be damned if he ever chooses hypocrisy for the sake of making a point. 

Loosing a sigh, the older man relents with a nod. “...You got me there,” he admits. “But this will be a one-time thing, Durran. She’s in charge of too much for multiple days off.”

Bodhi’s protective front fades a little, and one of his usual charming smiles graces his face. “I know,” he says. “I could barely convince her to come to bed last night. You know she’d rather be stabbed than take a breather.”

Xaden mutters in agreement. It was honestly a little concerning how hard and often you worked – But, then again, he wouldn’t dare complain. He knew you had your reasons, and for every ounce of respect you’d shown him over the years, then he’d do the same for you in a heartbeat…Even if he wouldn’t admit that to anyone outside his circle

“Get in formation,” he orders quickly. “If you can, wake her up in a few hours. I’m sure Cadet Kiyoko is working today, if you can catch her before her break.”

He doesn’t miss Bodhi’s eyeroll, but he chooses to let it slide. “Aye, Your Highness.”

༊*·˚ *ੈ

The hallway is mostly silent by the time Xaden slinks up to the door to Bodhi’s room. It wouldn’t take a genius to know that you hadn’t bothered going back to your own room; in fact, he wouldn’t be surprised if his cousin had just picked you up and hauled you over his shoulder to his bed. It wasn’t out of character. Xaden had seen the former do it enough times to know where the two of you would end up every time.

He leans against the wall, his eyes sliding over the door. Bodhi was always a little too eager with wards, as if he only ever wanted the two of you to be in his room at any given time. Oh, well. It wasn’t like Xaden wasn’t the exact same way with him and his weapon of a girlfriend.

He can’t get into Bodhi’s room right now – not when you’re in there – but Xaden is lucky to have a way around that. Lips twitching, he points a finger and watches a tendril of shadow slither under the door and into the room. The sudden absence of sunlight from under the threshold tells him everything he needs to know: The room, probably blazing in glorious Aretian sunlight, is now dimmed, allowing you to sleep without too much of a disturbance.

The man silently commands the shadow to stay and then stalks away, making sure nobody sees him turning out of the corridor.

Bodhi was fantastic at taking care of you – but Xaden, for all the love and light you’ve given his cousin throughout the past few years, would always oblige to do the same. It was only fair.

[avelera]

(Arcane Meta) "Why do you persist?" And the Character Flaw of Viktor's Tendency Towards Non-Confrontation

After writing this post I had something of a brainwave about a character flaw of Viktor's that had previously never occurred to me before. Namely, that of his habit of simply removing himself from moments of disagreement or confrontations, rather than sticking around to fight harder for his causes or negotiating to reach a compromise.

I've spoken elsewhere about how Viktor comes across as fairly flaw-free after Season 1, so one thing I found really interesting about getting his full arc in S2 is that we can begin to see his character flaws brought into focus.

And I should clarify, a literary character flaw is not the same thing as a real life character flaw. A literary character flaw is when there is something about the character that stands in the way of them achieving their goal in the story. For example, being clumsy is not a "character flaw" in a real person, it's simply a trait of neutral moral value, but it could be a character flaw in a story about a person who wants to become a ballerina, something they need to work to overcome.

So, I would and have argued that these are a few of Viktor's character flaws, personality traits of his that get in the way of him achieving his character's goals in Arcane:

Political disinterest: despite the fact that Viktor has a stated goal of helping the undercity, he never looks to other methods for improving life down there outside his personal skillset of science. Even when his close partner, Jayce, becomes a Councilor, able to enact political change with a wave of his hand, Viktor is dismissive of this avenue as a waste of time even though he is proven wrong in this assessment by the Zaun independence vote (at least, until outside forces like Jinx's rocket interfere).

Self-isolation: Viktor is plagued by loneliness that appears to be so painful to him that it eventually sets him on his villain path. However, he is also surrounded by people who care for him, especially Jayce and Sky who are literally willing to risk their lives for him. But Viktor seems either unaware of their affection in Sky's case or actively pushing it away in Jayce's case. He's not actually alone, he just thinks he's alone because of his habit of self-isolation when he is focused on his work or (very reasonably) stressed about things like his imminent mortality. This is also a flaw when it comes to his goals as a scientist, because Viktor pushes away potential collaborators. He's not aware of Sky's research towards his goal of improving lives in the undercity until after she dies. He's so skittish about Jayce potentially shutting down his research into the Hexcore and by extension saving his own life that he doesn't bring in his best scientific partner in on the work when Jayce could probably accelerate or even solve the problems Viktor is facing if he knew about them. Heck, he doesn't even tell Jayce he's dying but still shows resentment towards Jayce not spending time with him or helping him in the lab!

Single-mindedness/Intractability: It's Viktor's way or the highway. He doesn't compromise, or negotiate, in order to advance his own goals. This is in some ways a virtue, he refuses to bow in the face of pressure to turn his creation into a weapon, which is laudable. However, as stated above, he also has blinders on when it comes to other methods for achieving his stated goals, like improving lives in the undercity. Viktor sets his mind on a course of action and cannot be swayed by any argument. If he sees a confrontation he can't win, that brings us to the final flaw I wanted to address in this essay:

Non-confrontation: Viktor does not fight for his beliefs or persist in searching for a solution in partnership with others, even Jayce. This isn't to say he never engages in argument. He states his position, but like many intellectuals, he seems to believe that simply stating his position is enough and then he refuses to budge. If he doesn't get his way after a certain amount of time, he shows his displeasure by removing himself from the situation entirely rather than looking for common ground or alternate paths.

I want to reiterate, these are character flaws for a fictional character. In a real life person, I wouldn't think of this as necessarily a flaw at all. Viktor's stance could even be a virtue in a real person, an unwillingness to bend the pressures of the world, and the maturity to not get involved in ugly fights but instead simply step away from a situation he no longer wishes to be a part of.

It is a mature and intellectual response but, when it comes to the problems Viktor faces in Arcane, it is a symptom of his pacifism that actively gets in the way of him achieving his stated goals.

Viktor doesn't fight again Hextech weapons. He simply states his disapproval and then removes himself from the debate, leaving the decision entirely in Jayce's hands.

Viktor doesn't fight Heimerdinger for the removal of safeguards or defend his research into the Hexcore. Once again, he makes his argument and then seems to wilt in the face of doing anything more than that. Jayce ends up fighting that fight in his place but even worse, Viktor doesn't seem to know about or acknowledge that Jayce fights this battle on his behalf, which in turn contributes to Viktor's sense of isolation and not having anyone in his corner, even though Jayce just overthrew the government for him.

Viktor is noted to frequently disappear for long stretches of time, without letting Jayce know where he went. Which is entirely his right as a real person, but given his character's patterns of behavior, it does heavily imply that he's hiding something, perhaps his failing health, from his partner. We know he actively avoids telling Jayce about the full extent of his health issues, given his own lack of surprise at his own prognosis when he collapses and Jayce's utter shock.

Viktor also avoids the spotlight and doesn't partake in the public aspects of promoting Hextech or even seem all that eager to put his name on things he created however, he also notes with despair that no one will remember him after he is gone. This one has always puzzled me a bit, I suppose he wants his inventions to be so groundbreaking they speak for themselves, but he not only makes no effort to attach his name to their work in Hextech, he actively refuses to go on stage even as a silent partner to Jayce to present himself as the co-creator of Hextech. This to me is another symptom of his habit of avoidance: he simply wants people to find their own way to his view, in this case acknowledging his work, without making any effort to persuade or even present himself to them.

But finally, and most salient to the point I'd like to make: Viktor after emerging from the Hex-goop making his greatest avoidance of all by removing himself from his partnership with Jayce, having decided that they have passed the breaking point of their partnership and have no choice but to go their separate ways.

The thing is, from a Doylist angle, this moment is necessary for furthering the plot. I actually think it's a rather clumsy beat in retrospect for how visible the hand of the author is in making it happen, because Jayce doesn't, for example, stop a naked Viktor from departing, which would be a reasonable thing to do under the circumstances when Viktor is clearly in shock, nor does Jayce offer to go with him, which feels particularly out of character given how unhinged Jayce is and his own wedding-vow like promises of devotion only moments before, offering to give up everything he's been working on to be by Viktor's side.

I suppose shock could explain it on both sides, or that Jayce just wanted to go back to how things were, not forge a new path, but regardless, the outcome is that Viktor once again removes himself from a situation he's decided is untenable, rather than asking for, say, some guarantees from Jayce that he is sincere, or negotiating for some concessions from Jayce, or even delivering an ultimatum for what Jayce needs to do to stay by his side.

I suppose you could argue that Hextech weapons was the line, and Viktor is so uncompromising that once it's crossed, that line cannot be uncrossed in his mind, even in the face of Jayce's regrets and desire to make it right by whatever path Viktor sets for him, perhaps reasonable given Jayce has ignored other requests by Viktor up to this point, like not destroying the Hexcore. But this all gets thrown aside when later, Viktor invites Jayce to the commune (if we even believe that's Viktor and not the Hexcore, as I've argued elsewhere, it's all a bit muddy and we can guess at many reasons Viktor left that day, one of which might have been to protect Jayce from the Hexcore and himself).

I bring up the question of how much the Hexcore is controlling Viktor being an active question, because I'm going to undermine my own point here for a moment. I'm arguing that Viktor tends to state his position and then retreat from any sort of compromise or negotiation with other parties, removing himself rather than yielding if he doesn't get his way, but he does persist in trying to make contact with Jayce during his villain arc. I'd argue that insofar as it is Viktor at all, the Hexcore's modifications have given him the confidence for the first time to fight for Jayce, and despite Jayce killing Salo, shooting Viktor, and destroying his robot self, Viktor as the Machine Herald is still pleased to see Jayce (what a simp) and does still seem to want Jayce to come to his way of viewing things. Arguably for the first time, Viktor is persistent in an argument or debate, but he still refuses to budge in what the outcome will be. He wants to persuade Jayce, but he doesn't want to change his position or consider Jayce's side of things at all, maybe because the Hexcore is in control, or maybe because Viktor has always approached academic debates in this way: by refusing to listen to the other side or change his position.

Ok, so this brings me, F I N A L L Y to the point I've been wanting to make:

"Why do you persist, after everything I've done?"

^^ Viktor's genuine confusion about Jayce's persistence.

I think his confusion is, as we've seen if you made it this far, very much in line with his character and this is what I just realized. Viktor doesn't understand why Jayce keeps trying to confront Viktor even though apparently they have opposing views. If Jayce isn't going to come around to Viktor's way of doing things, why are they still even engaging in a confrontation? Why doesn't Jayce just remove himself, the way Viktor would?

In his villain arc, Viktor is more persistent, but he's not more willing to negotiate. If anything, being a villain just gives Viktor the power to not need to avoid people who don't come around to his way of thinking, but to actively, forcefully change their minds against their will. Not by persuasion, or diplomacy, or sophistry. Not by making an argument. But simply like many engineers he thinks that his solution is best and the data will miraculously speak for itself and there's something inherently wrong with people who don't agree with his view.

Machine Herald Viktor firmly believes he's in the right, his mind cannot be changed, it's never been changed in the past (except by Jayce, by the way, when he made the argument for Hextech that seduced Viktor into being his partner in the first place. Once again, Jayce is the exception) so why does Jayce keep fighting?

And I think I'm correct in identifying Viktor's intractability, his unwillingness to accept any view but his own as correct or to hear opposing arguments, as a character flaw because it does get addressed by the end of the story and we see him recognize this and change. He sees Jayce was right, the path he was on was evil, it was going to lead to widespread destruction, not salvation. Viktor sets out to make it right. And once again, he tries to go it alone, without inviting his partner in on the process, and here too we see a flaw addressed: Viktor finally lets Jayce in. He lets Jayce help him and he doesn't run from the difference of positions, or self-isolate in the face of someone who cares for him, or try to solve the problem alone, secure in his incorrect belief that he must do everything alone.

It's a brief scene, but finally at the end, we address these deep character flaws Viktor has been carrying throughout the story of Arcane, and only then can he at least achieve his goal of destroying the Hexcore, with Jayce.