#when red bull is less toxic then you

[myendlesshorizonstuff]

Here's the thing, I don't think he will be compared to Ollie because Ollie was in a ferrari and at that time Ferarri was often the 2nd fastest car maybe the 3rd but it was much closer to the top then now where it was a miracle Charles finished where he did in Zandvoort.

Who he will be compared to instead is Liam Lawson. Which is also bonkers and not fair. Yes Liam stepped in to a car and team much more similar to Williams then Ferarri, and around similar times as he raced first at Zandvoort. The reason this is unfair is that Liam did two full seasons in f2 and some of super formula all before stepping in. Liam is a good driver and deserves a permanent place but he had time to finish cooking.

I fear this could ruin this guys career and I fail to see how long term this will accomplish anything other than punishing Logan for being bad.

i have more things to say, cause this just makes my blood boil.

this is not just shit for Logan, this is not good for Colapinto either.

it’s not just that Colapinto has no experience in F1, but he barely has any experience in F2, this is his rookie year there. they’re throwing him in F1 way too early, he’s not at all ready, even though he’s doing a kind of decent job at F2 in the moment (he’s sixth in the championship). he has potential, but they! gotta! let! him! learn! they’re ruining his chance for a good F2 season, probably ruining his entire career with this, all because they want Logan out of the team so bad. he’s not going to be able to perform at all, cause the car is horrible and he’s a rookie.

this is not like when Ollie drove in Jeddah. this is Ollie’s second f2 season, he’s driven F1 cars before for Haas and for Ferrari, he had more experience than Colapinto has now. and he was driving a Ferrari. yes, we joke that Ferrari is shit and blah blah blah, but it’s still a good car, especially compared to the Williams.

Colapinto will be under tremendous pressure to prove himself and score points, cause this is his chance, his breakthrough. but that pressure is not a good thing, as we’ve seen before time and time again, it only creates more mistakes and doubts.

this is such a shit situation and i literally cannot wrap my head around why Vowles thought that yes, this is the solution.

[innerfare]

Smutty Captain Kid Headcanons - Part 2 

Summary: A collection of NSFW headcanons for Captain Kid

Genre: Smut

CW: oral sex, dirty talk, mean dom Kid, spanking, biting, spitting, rough sex, unsafe sex, Kid might be a bit toxic, threesomes

———

Gets a little too turned on if you flip him off during sex. The first time you did it, he was fucking you from behind and goading you like he usually does; unable to talk you flipped him the bird, and he came almost instantly. Is there a such thing as a middle finger kink? Because if so, he has it.

Super into sexy costumes. French maid, innocent bunny, cute sailor girl, the Gol D. Roger costume you customized to be comically inappropriate. Aside from costumes, leopard print lingerie is his favorite. 

Sounds like a feral animal when he goes down on you. Prefers to do it from behind because it seems to make you even more vulnerable. Has eaten you out on the deck of the Victoria Punk, you clinging to the wheel and keeping a lookout for any crew members, Kid shoving a finger up your ass. Eats ass, too. His favorite is the way you gasp and whine when he spits on you to lube you up. Definitely spanks you while he goes down on you, both ass and tits, and squeezes your thighs like he’s trying to rip the skin open. 

Most nights the two of you are together, it sounds like there’s a rabid dog loose in his cabin. The crew has come to accept this. 

Never leaves your nipples alone. Pinches them, squeezes them, flicks them, bites them. You had to set boundaries re: your nipples because they were raw all the time. 

Wants to hurt you, but also wants you to hurt him. Will grab your face in his massive hand and squeeze until you slap him, will spit in your mouth and swallow when you spit back, will bite the ever-loving crap out of your neck (like actually chomp down on you, no such thing as sweet little love bites), laughs like a mad man if you rake your nails down his chest and draw blood (bonus points for hurting his nipples), never smacks your ass less than ten times, will cum immediately if you try to bite his ear off. 

If you show even a hint of dissatisfaction after the deed is done, he’s back on top of you in an instant pounding away. 

Is the absolute worst about birth control. Complains incessantly if you make him wear condoms, usually because they’re ‘too small’ and cramp his style, claims he has a latex allergy and condoms give him a rash (literally not true). Annoyed by his whining, you try the pull out method, only to find he’s even worse about that. “But it feels so good.” “I don’t want to pull out.” “Why should I even bother? We both want me to cum inside of you, anyway.” “Stop complaining.” “I didn’t become a pirate to follow rules, y/n.” He does genuinely try to pull out, but he’s so bad at it. You have no choice but to get on some form of pill before you have a little red-haired menace running around. 

Once you do get on that pill, you never don’t have his cum inside you. He cums a cartoonish amount, too, and by the time you’re cleaned out, he’s mounting you again. 

Believes in kissing and telling. In particular, he wants you telling. He wants you getting drunk and telling the bar that his balls are the size of a bull’s. He wants you telling the crew you’re taking it easy because you got dicked down the night before and you’re sore as a motherfucker. He wants you tearing apart the infirmary for bruise cream, loudly announcing it’s because Kid can’t just make love sweetly but has to ride you like an animal every night. 

Loves fucking you out in the open. Usually it's on the deck of the Victoria Punk. Has also fucked you in an alleyway outside a tavern before.

Really loves the idea of a threesome but is far too jealous of a lover to make it work. If you like girls, he’s obsessed with the idea of you being dominated by one. Also enjoys letting other people watch, especially men (strict no touching rule); he wants to show off his prowess. 

That being said, Killer is the exception. Kid is more than happy to switch off with Killer, the two of them tag teaming you until you just can’t take anymore. Killer can even fuck you when Kid’s not there to oversee.

Is secretly a sweet little boy, and it shows in after care. Calls you all sorts of sweet nicknames when you’re in his big arms afterward, but says them quietly in your ear. Tells you that if you disappeared, he would tear the world apart looking for you, and if you died, he would set the world on fire. And he’s just crazy enough to mean it.

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[boredmadamoiselle]

You're losing me

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Synopsis: When the 2023 season comes to an end, everything falls down. Including your relationship with Charles.

Warnings: Angst. Charles is a little toxic maybe and an asshole. English isn't my first language, so it probably contains some mistakes. Sorry in advance!

Author's note: Let me know what you think. Your feedback is always appreciated and it is really important for me. If you have any ideas or concepts you want to share and that you want me to write, feel free to send them and I will take into consideration.

How long could we be a sad song 'Til we were too far gone to bring back to life? I gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy And all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier Fighting in only your army Frontlines, don't you ignore me I'm the best thing at this party

“And Max Verstappen is a F1 world champion for the third time in a row!”, you heard the speakers saying even if everyone already knew that. 

All attention was on Max and Red Bull but your thoughts were on someone else. Charles.

While Max was celebrating his victory, Charles had lost not only against Red Bull but also against his own teammate. In the end, Carlos had managed to overtake him in the drivers' standings. The same Carlos who had always been one step in front of him for the entire year, who had broken, albeit for just one race, Red Bull's dominance and had dominated during the weekend at Monza, Ferrari’s home race. It was frustrating because he was Il Predestinato, the one who was destined to win and bring Ferrari to success after all those years. But race after race and despite the support of his fans, it seemed to him that it was no longer the case. He didn't even feel the same anymore. He was losing his confidence and was tired to fight when everything and everyone seemed to be against him: his own team, the strategies, the car, his teammate… 

But most of all, Charles was angry. You could barely keep up with him from how fast he was walking. With the helmet still on, he was ignoring everyone, including you and his fans. Something he had never done before. 

Despite his nervousness, he waited for you entering inside his driving room before slamming the door violently. You gasped at it.

You remained silent as you watched him change clothes and you thought about what you could tell him to console him. You didn’t even know if it was a good idea talking to him. What could you tell him in a moment like that to make things better? You knew that whatever you would have said wouldn't have been enough. What could you tell him that you haven’t told him yet? Because it wasn't the first time you found yourself in that situation, that things weren't going well...

You thought back over the past few months. It hadn’t been a good year for him and as a result, your relationship had suffered too. The worse the races went, the more, in fact, he was disappointed and threw himself more into work. When he didn't have to race, he was in Maranello at the factory working on the car and getting ready for the next race. Although you had tried to accompany him whenever you could, you had seen him less and less often. You also didn't feel welcome at the factory as you felt like your presence was bothering him. Scared by that, you had stopped going with him. You know it wasn’t true, that it was only your mind playing tricks on you. Was it?He loved you... you weren’t a burden or a distraction to him – you had repeated to yourself for months. He just needed to focus on his job if he wanted to win. Knowing how much it was important to him, you had put yourself aside and never said anything about it or how you felt. Not even when he didn’t come home for your anniversary because he had to work or when he forgot your birthday. You had remained silent even then, forgiving and justifying him, even though every disappointment and forgetfulness were like a stab in your heart, making you feel less and less important. In the end, it wasn't even worth it.

Although you were sad for Charles, a part of you was happy that the season had finally come to an end and that the winter break was about to start. It was your chance to spend some time together away from everything and everyone. Everything would have gone back to normal, to how it was before. You and Charles would have been fine again. At least it was what you thought… How wrong you were.

As Charles was putting his t-shirt on, you hugged him from behind and rested your chin on his shoulder. Or at least, you tried. He moved your arms off of you and walked away leaving you paralyzed in the middle of the room. You heard him grumble. 

You felt rejected by the man you loved and who told you he loved you. Because in that moment it didn’t seem like that. 

It wasn’t the first time that you felt rejected. The truth was that you hadn’t felt loved by him for months. 

You wanted to cry but you couldn’t. You had cried enough for him. You had lost count of the nights you spent crying before falling asleep. 

“Charles…”, you managed to whisper than to say. 

He turned to look at you. 

“What… what happens?”

He looked at you in disbelief. “What happens? Weren't you out there? Didn't you see what happened? I lost everything! Here what happened!”, he screamed. “I lost the championship, again! I’m not even vice-champion this time and my own teammate beat me. I’ve been driving a tract for the entire year. Isn’t all this enough for you?” 

As you listened to him, you realized how everything was always about him. He was still talking about the damn season he had, the championship, the car, his teammate… when you didn’t give a fuck about them, not anymore. You cared about you. You and Charles. But it didn't seem to be the same for your boyfriend.

He was still complaining about the season when you stopped him. You had enough. “No, I meant why you moved earlier.”

He turned around looking at you in confusion as if he didn’t understand what you were saying. 

“What… what are you talking about? When?” 

You couldn’t believe it. Was he making fun of you? How could he be so oblivious about everything, about you? Weren't you the woman he said he loved?

“Now when I hugged you and you immediately moved away from me as if you couldn’t stand my touch. Why that?”

Charles sighed and you could see how annoyed he was from your affirmation. Too bad for him that you were tired too and you couldn’t stand that situation anymore. It was time for both of you to clarify it. 

“It was nothing. I didn’t even realize it”, he said turning and giving you his back. 

“You see, Charles, this is the problem. You wouldn’t have realized it if I hadn't pointed it out for you. You never realize anything”, you said. 

“What would that mean? I already said that it was nothing. You're overreacting, Y/N!”

As your patience had reached its limit, you ended bursting out. 

“It was something, Charles! It meant for me. But apparently you simply don’t care enough about me and also about us if you don’t realize how much you’re hurting me, or I should say how I much you had hurt me in the last months”, you yelled at him while your eyes started filling with tears. 

Your words caught him off guard and put him in difficulty. He turned around to face you. 

“I’m sorry, okay? I didn't do it on purpose. I just have a lot of things on my mind right now. This year sucked…” 

You didn’t give him the time to finish. 

“Stop, Charles! I’ve had enough. Yeah, this season, the car, the team, everything sucked. I know that very well and do you know why? Because I’ve been by your side the whole time supporting and consoling you when everyone and everything seemed to be against you. And despite all this, you managed to make me feel like I wasn’t welcome. The least you could do is not push me away.” With every word you raised your voice more and more, not caring who could hear you from outside. 

“I never asked you to do all those things.”

You looked at him in disbelief. You quickly wiped away a tear that was falling down your cheek. He didn't deserve to see you crying. He didn't deserve you tears anymore.

You wondered yourself who was the person in front of you because that wasn’t the same Charles you knew and loved. There was a completely stranger in front of you as you didn't recognize him anymore.

“Yes, you didn’t but I did it anyway and I don’t regret it, Charles. I'd do it all again because I love you. But…” 

The thought had been tormenting you for months. You had kept pushing it away, trying not to listen to it but it came back stronger every time. You didn't want to believe it was true because it would mean the end of you and Charles. But maybe your relationship had been over a long time ago and you were just postponing the inevitable. 

“But it looks like my love isn’t enough anymore or maybe… maybe you don’t love me anymore, I don’t know. But I know for sure that in the last year you’ve loved your job, the championship and everything else more than me and don't try to deny it because you proved it several times, Charles. And I’m sorry but I'm tired of trying to make this relationship work when it seems I’m the only one who cares about it. I can’t keep fighting for both of us”, you said as you started collecting your things around the room, even the pieces of your broken heart. You wanted to leave that place and everything behind you as soon as possible. You were about to burst into tears. 

“Wait. What are you doing?”, he asked as he realized what you were about to do. 

“Leaving”, you simply said avoiding looking him in the face. You were afraid of the effect it might have on you. 

“What do you mean? The room or… me?” 

Good question. You didn't know it either. 

“I… don’t know. Maybe both, but for now the room for sure. I need some fresh air and... some time.” 

You collected your last things.

You had reached the door when his words stopped you. 

“So is it like this? Just because I've been absent recently or because I didn't win, you break up with me? You know I was working all the time, right?” 

You turned around to face him. All the sadness from earlier had been replaced by anger. You approached him reducing the distance between you. How could he think so low of you?

“Don’t you dare, Charles! I don't care if you're the champion of the world or not. I've always loved and wanted you despite that. And yes, I know you have been working all this time. You know why? Because that's all you've done this year: work, work and again work. If we've reached this point, it's… Do you know what? Nevermind. It’s just a waste of time and I've already wasted it enough. And so did you. I assume you have some work to do or am I wrong?” 

Maybe you had exaggerated with your words but you didn't care at all. You were hurt and angry.

Charles said nothing as you stood looking at each other. 

You weren't sure what you were hoping for. But anything would have been better than that deafening silence that was slowly killing you inside. It felt like the world was ending. For sure something was certainly over between you and Charles. But was it the end for you and him? Or there was still hope?

Your hand was on the doorknob, ready to leave when you turned to Charles. You wanted to see him one last time, to remember the Charles you loved but all you saw was a stranger. 

“You know what, Charles? You were right in the end. You’ve lost everything, including me, us. Good work, Charles.”

And with those last words you left the room and Charles. 

You exited the garage and walked quickly across the paddock hoping no one would have stopped or seen you. 

As you were keeping your head down, you didn't see that Joris was coming in the opposite direction and you collided with him.

"Oh, Joris... I'm sorry, I didn't see you...", you told him.

"Hey, Y/n. Is it everything ok? Where are you going?"

You were avoiding his gaze. If you would have looked at him in the eyes, you wouldn't have been able to hold back the tears anymore. "Away, Joris. I need to go", you whispered as your eyes started to fill with tears again.

"Wait, where? What happened?"

You quickly looked at him before hugging him.

"Nothing, don't worry. Take care of him for me, Joris."

You quickly kissed his cheek and left him there confused as he watched you walking away.

Stop, you're losin' me Stop, you're losin' me Stop, you're losin' me I can't find a pulse My heart won't start anymore For you 'Cause you're losin' me

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

[raikkxz]

ᯓ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ⑅ walk him like a dog 2 ✯ jb22 .ᐟ.ᐟ

★ 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃﹕﹙ yes/no ﹚ — 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘﹕﹙in which sebastian vettels sister gets her dream job to work along with him, but stumbles across an infamous playboy﹚ — 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒﹕﹙purpose use of lowercase letters only, not sure if there's gonna be another part, use of y/n, black-cat!reader, golden-retriever-ish!jenson, past-playboy!jenson, lowkey-past-toxic!jenson, VERYY light angst [i think], probably not well proofread, lmk if there's anything i missed!!﹚ — 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆﹕﹙jenson button 22 x f!vettel!reader﹚ — 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓﹕﹙icba checking but it's not much at all imooo fjdkjfdsjfkla﹚ ★ 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐎﹕﹙part two who cheered !?﹚

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JENSON COULDN'T HELP BUT look at the red bull racer's sister eating her lunch with some of her co-workers. she fit right in and right away, even only after a week. she was smiling. oh, her smile. it was different than how she smiled with her brother. how jenson would do anything to make her smile that genuine smile she had with her brother.

"staring at my sister, huh?"

jenson whipped his head around to see sebastian vettel. he opens his mouth then closes it as he sees the fellow driver's raised eyebrows.

sebastian's cold face cracks into a grin. he throws his head back and laughs. "you should have seen the look on your face!"

jenson grumbles under his breath.

"alright, all jokes aside, please don't play with my sisters heart." sebastian puts a hand on jenson's shoulder.

"why would i ever-" jenson starts as he looks at him, but seb raises his eyebrows.

jenson purses his lips. "i.. alright, maybe you're right and i'm sorry."

seb sighs softly. "i'm just looking out for my sister, alright? i love her very much, with all my heart. i don't want to see it broken. i don't want to see *her* broken. just please, promise me."

"i promise." jenson nods sternly.

〜

days after days, you and jenson had formed a friendly and healthy relationship, in which you both hoped would never be ruined. every time you laughed or smiled, you didn't know the thoughts lingering behind the eyes that shined when you did so. you've opened up more and more, finally showing the fun side of you.

jenson hoped to keep it that way. he hoped that your friendship would never be ruined. he'd never felt this way before, and he didn't know whether you felt the same way or not. being the infamous playboy he was, of course he didn't want to break your heart like he did to the other girls. he made a promise to your brother, a promise he could and would never break. you were too dear to him, too precious. he didn't want to break you. he vowed to, with all his life and heart, and he would never admit that to anyone or to himself.

so from then on, he kept it a secret. a secret he couldn't bear. and little did he know, that you on the other hand, was starting to catch feelings too. and you would never admit that to yourself either.

you both had fallen too hard to ever want to break your relationship. your personalities might be polar opposites, but the way you both want to keep your loved ones close and protected was a trait you shared.

jenson, the infamous playboy he was known as, obviously had toyed with a 'few' girls hearts. he's not one to think before he acts. he's the outgoing, social golden retriever.

you were oftenly known is the black cat, and the studiouss quiet kid. you were known by everyone, but not exactly popular. you plan out your movements carefully, always one step ahead. perfect match, honestly.

but further more, jenson made you feel special. you wanted to deny that feeling that made you think, 'he probably gives this treatment to every girl.' but oh, how you were wrong.

he would never offer to carry an item that weighed less than a pound for the 'other' girls. ("here, let me help you with that." "jenson, i can carry it, it's fine!! it's literally just a-" "no, please just let me help." and of course you had to give in to those helpless eyes. that effect he had on you made you weak in the knees.) he would never buy the 'other' girls special and thoughtful gifts. ("please, darling, this is my treat." "but jens-" "i said it once and ill say it again. my. treat.") he would never follow those 'other' girls around like he did to you, like a dog on a leash. ("walk him like a dog." seb snorted. "shut up!!" you muttered, feeling your cheeks get slightly red. jenson rolled his eyes, continuing to follow you neverless.)

it was never those 'other' girls, who he never even talked to anymore ever since he had met you. it's always been you. and from then, it would never change.

★ 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐎﹕﹙i MIGHTTT take some blurb and part requests for this series, so ill lyk if i do!!﹚ ౨ৎ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓﹕﹙@gray4youuu @c-losur3 @ujws5 @namgification @faithshouseofchaos @isurvived3-11andimproud @somebodyonce-toldme @44lewico﹚

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notes, comments, reblogs, feedback and follows are greatly appriciated!

!! PLEASE DO NOT REPOST ON OTHER WEBISTES/APPS OR COPY MY ORIGINAL WORK !!

[folkloresthings]

seb + reader are in the car and they get in a fight. reader gets out of the car, it starts raining, and seb can’t find her and starts freaking out. when she finally gets home he’s super relieved and apologizes and they make up

vaguely inspired by the all too well tv (10 min vers.) music video but less toxicity 👍

BOILING POINT. ❨ sebastian vettel x reader ❩

the space between you had never been so tense. sebastian’s hands were gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white, your nails nicking at the hem of your dress. it was almost dark out, and you were headed back from a fancy dinner with some of sebastian’s colleagues.

it was your first time meeting most of sebastian’s work friends. people higher up in red bull, bosses and executives and what not. you’d been nervous, but sebastian didn’t seem to think he needed to help ease your nerves. for the most part, you spent the night in the corner of the room, cradling a wine glass and making awkward small talk. sebastian was laughing and making jokes and brushed you off any time you tried to speak to him.

“so, you’re not speaking to me now either?” you mumble, hating the silence.

“you’re being dramatic,” sebastian sighs, head falling back against the headrest as he turns another corner.

“you barely said a word to me all night!” you exclaim, sitting up. you look over at him, his eyes fixed hard and cold on the road. “it was embarrassing!”

“i was working,” he hisses, glancing over at you briefly. “i didn’t have time to talk to you, because i had to impress those people if i want to keep my job. you know, the job that pays for your dresses and holidays and—”

“stop the car.”

sebastian looks over at you, cheeks red with frustration. “what?”

“i said, stop the car.” you can feel the tears stinging your eyes, sebastian’s words pulling at the wrong heartstring. he got like this sometimes, all hot and harsh, but he was never mean. not like that.

he laughs a little, under his breath, but pulls the car over anyway. he doesn’t expect you to actually get out, only to make your point and shout at him a little more and then go home. but you click the door open as soon as the car rolls to a halt and slam the door behind you.

“y/n!” he calls, rolling down the window. “get back in the car!”

you don’t listen, arms crossed and legs moving quickly. sebastian’s used to your stubbornness, and he’s still to caught up in his anger to apologise. “fine! i’ll meet you at home.”

about halfway there, the heavens open and it begins raining heavier than sebastian had anticipated. the rain seems to clear his thinking a little bit, turning the car around with a sharp sigh. he follows the exact same road he took, but you’re nowhere to be found. he tries some other back streets, and still nothing.

panic rises in him. you’re out there, somewhere, cold and wet and sad — and it’s all his fault.

thirty minutes of looking and no avail, sebastian heads back to the house in hopes of finding you. he could have cried when he sees you there, stood at the door, drenched. you spot the car pulling in, watching as sebastian switches off the ignition and climbs out.

“you’ve got the keys,” you tell him, justifying why you were simply stood on the doorstep. your cheeks are red and blotchy, eyes swollen from where you cried the whole way home. sebastian sighs, hurrying over to unlock the door and usher you both in.

“come on, take these off,” he’s quick to help you remove your coat, your shoes, every piece of clothing that’s soaked through. fetching you some pyjamas, he helps you put those on too. when you’re sat at the end of the bed, still not speaking, hair towelled dry and mascara staining under your eyes, sebastian caves.

“i’m sorry,” he mutters, kneeling between your legs. begging for forgiveness. “i should have been better tonight. i should have kept you by my side, showed you off. i shouldn’t have said all of that stuff — i’m an idiot.”

you sniffle, letting his hands wander over you, lips pressing apologetic kisses to your thighs, your stomach, your hands.

“i’ve got the perfect woman, and i act like a fool,” he admits, reaching up to brush your hair out of your face, kissing your cheeks. “i’m so sorry, liebe. you can hit me, if you want.”

it pulls a small smile from you, one he celebrates with a kiss to your lips. swiftly and easily does he lift you from under the arms, switching positions so he’s sat on the mattress, you on his lap.

“what can i do to make it up to you?” he gives you a suggestive smirk, fingers dipping under your waistband. “give me the word and i’m yours, baby.”

you can’t help but smile, shifting a little in his lap, pulling a small groan from your boyfriend. “hm. don’t think you deserve that tonight — but some hot chocolate would be lovely.”

he groans again, this time in despair, falling back into the mattress and taking you with him. you giggle, tucking your head in his neck as he attacks you with kisses. eventually giving up, leaving you to curl up under the duvet as he drags himself to the kitchen. when your hot chocolate comes, it’s a work of art, topped with cream and marshmallows and chocolate shavings.

“only the best for my love.”

[letstevengrantsleep]

Part Three

Previous part / Next part

Eddie Munson x reader slow burn

part summary: heated words are exchanged between you and Jake, big decisions are made, and bonds are broken

word count: 1,145

warnings: toxic horrid relationship, smacking (just the one, to the face, in the heat of the moment), swearing, ANGST

a/n: This chapter is kinda heavy so please be aware of that before you read it. I've got a humble little taglist going too so lemmie know if you want to be added to it okay thanks byeee xoxo

main masterlist series masterlist

Your heart is pounding in your chest so hard you can feel it in your throat, following Jake to your meeting spot as the dread seeps in. He's gone silent, the tension in the air palpable as he stops abruptly to huff and practically slams himself down onto a park bench.

"What's going on, Jake?" You ask, knowing full well that it's a ridiculous question. You know what's up, you just don't want to admit it yet.

"I thought I was clear on the phone about how much last night upset me."

You want to roll your eyes, tell him he's being ridiculous and to get over himself, but something holds you back.

"I can't help it if I bump into people on the street, Jake." You really do try to keep your tone neutral but there's an edge of bitterness that seeps through the seems, soaking your words as they leave your mouth.

"No. But you have full control over whether you stop and have a fucking conversation with them," your name leaves Jake's mouth and it's sharp, harsh. It sounds completely unlike any way he's ever said your name before. It makes you recoil slightly, pulling a face at his words.

"You're overreacting." Sighing, you run your hands through your hair in frustration, "we've literally known each other less than twenty four hours, you have nothing to worry about here."

It sounds unconvincing, and honestly you're not even trying to make your words sound any different. What's the point? He's only going to accuse you of lying anyway.

"This is a fucking joke," he groans, voice rising, "I feel like I'm loosing you." His hand comes up to touch your face and it's involuntary, the way that you flinch back before he makes contact. You don't think he notices. "It used to be just me and you against the world, baby. Now it's like there's all these people in your head, everyone except me."

Oh God.

You can taste acid at the back of your throat, and you're convinced it's been brought on by this sudden show of affection from your boyfriend. You're not used to it anymore.

"Jake." You warn, pulling away.

"See?" His voice raises again, drawing attention from a few passers by. You wish the ground would just open up and swallow you whole. "I can't even touch you anymore. What's up with that?" There's that anger in his eyes again, glazed over like a bull seeing red.

All you can do is stare at him, not even knowing where to start with that line of conversation. There are so many reasons why you pulled away, where do you even start?

Fuck it.

"Do you think maybe if you hadn't ditched me for your friends last night then maybe I wouldn't have spoken to Eddie at all?" There's an edge to your tone but you're calm, way calmer than he is.

"The fuck you just say to me?"

"You heard me, Jake."

"I'm not having this conversation with you right now." He snaps.

That makes you laugh, really laugh. "Right," you nod, "because it only suits you to hash things out if you think I'm in the wrong, yeah?"

"Shut up," he grinds out your name through gritted teeth.

"No,” you shake your head, "actually I think I'll carry on. While we're at it, in fact, let's talk about other noted absences."

"Shut it-"

"-what about the time you left me for four hours to go speak to a 'friend' while we were at my graduation?"

"I mean it, stop-"

"-or the time you forgot to pick me up from the station after I'd been to visit my dying grandma, alone-"

"No."

"Or every time we go to Steve's an you leave me to go 'swim' for hours when you're actually-"

SMACK.

Silence.

The sound came before the sting, and it takes you a second to catch up with what's actually happened. Instinctively, your hand comes up to grasp at your cheek, eyes stinging with tears not through sadness or fear but because of the impact. Your heart is in your throat again but this time in pure fucking rage. Who the fuck does he think he is?

Jake says your name. Sheepishly. Quiet. His hand is coming up to meet yours but you move back, shaking your head.

"We're done." Is all you say. Voice stoic, mind made up.

"No, you're not doing this to me." Jake's stubborn, but so are you.

"Jake you just fucking hit me in a public park. We. Are. Done." You accentuate every word, making sure he understands how grave a mistake he has just made.

He says your name again, firmer this time. "We're not breaking up."

"Yes we are, Jake. You made that decision for us."

-

You're not even sure how you made it back home without a fight, dodging the main street in favour of side streets as the sting on your cheek got more and more aggressive. As you close the door you take a second to compose yourself, the silence of your home a stark contrast to the chaos of the park.

Taking a deep breath, you push yourself off the wall and make your way to the bathroom, your steps heavy and uncertain. The light flicks on after a moment and you brace yourself as you look in the mirror. There's no emotion on your face, you can't even bring yourself to look surprised as you glance at the deep bruise forming on your cheek.

Turning on the cold water you splash your face in an attempt to sooth the ache. As the water drips down onto your chin you look back at your reflection. The face staring back at you is angry, determined. This isn't about the bruise, this is about the betrayal. The broken trust and the realization that something had to give.

You take a deep breath, shaking out your limbs as you straighten your posture, stretching your neck with closed eyes. Somewhere in that bathroom you find a new sense of resolve, the determination not to take any more backwards steps.

The phone sits, quiet on the shoddy side table, and as you take a seat next to the window you catch it in your peripheral. For a moment you sit there, debating whether it's worth the trouble. If picking up the phone and calling someone is worth all the inevitable questions. Paralyzed, you mull it over a thousand times, each with a different outcome, before ultimately deciding that you're going to have to explain eventually, so why not now?

You grab the receiver, punch a series of numbers into the square number pad and hold it to your ear.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

"Hello?"

"Hiya, it's me." A beat while the person on the other end responds, "yeah, something's happened. Can I come over?"

Taglist:

@sapphire4082 @twirls827 @bewr0210

[hyacinthsdiamonds]

I agree Max's statement probably was written or overseen by his PR team, not in a "he'd never write that/he wouldn't defend his gf that way/it's Kelly who wanted him to comment there and made him do it way" but in a "If Max was allowed to say what he really wanted, it wouldn't be media friendly to say the least" way. Max isn't someone who reacts to the hate that he himself receives, but we've seen him time and time again go to the bat for his loved ones, particularly his mother, and his sister and her kids (y'all do remember Max's nephews - literal babies - got death threats in 2022?).

I personally don't like Kelly. So I don't interact with her tag, or her socials. I scroll past when she comes up in tags I do follow. I block when people are being weird about her. Has she done and said things that warrant criticism? Yes, absolutely and without question. But my question is: would you care about that if she wasn't dating Max? Because a lot of the comments come off as less "this action/behaviour is questionable/appalling/etc, it must be rightfully called out" and more "it should be me dating him". Also, perpetuating misogyny towards her and bodyshaming her, isn't criticism. Some of you jump that line often. Kelly has done a lot of problematic shit, I'm not denying that, but two wrongs don't make a right.

It's important to remember not just Kelly gets this type of hate, no "wag" or even the mother of a driver goes unscathed. Even Oscar's girlfriend, whose Instagram is private and who very quietly shows up to support him, gets hate. Let's not forget ferrari fans singing that Sophie Kumpen Max's mum was a whore, or all that's been said about Alex's mum over the years. We've enabled such a toxic environment for any woman who is in any way connected to f1. I remember what some of y'all had to say about Hannah Schmitz, who *check notes* had the audacity to do her job, do her job well and do it as a red bull employee. We talk about wanting to get women onto the grid, but we can't even allow the women currently involved in the sport, whether fans, crew & team members, drivers' family members and girlfriends, to simply exist. We're only talking about Kelly right now because she made a statement.

This is just two examples of some of the shit that's been been perpetuated:

In short, your fav driver isn't going to fuck you or the driver you ship them with.

[cumaeansibyl]

okay this is my biggest conspiracy theory except it's not really a Conspiracy Theory because I am not actually positing a shadowy prime mover who planned the whole thing from the start. that always ends up in wildly antisemitic places where I do not go, and also I don't think anyone in history has had their shit together enough to mastermind Schemes of this type. my theories are always more like "this happened serendipitously and at some point maybe someone noticed and took advantage but there's certainly no central figure in charge."

so we start with the normalization of overwork in our society, since roughly forever. in modern times this led to abuse of medical and recreational stimulants -- everyone was on speed in the 50s and coke in the 80s -- but we all kind of figured out that was a bad idea, for the most part. what we still had after the white powder settled, though, was caffeine. totally legal, totally normalized.

but people were still overworked, and they also still wanted to have energy after work, to do fun things with the little free time left to them.

enter energy drinks.

unlike coffee, which still has the feeling of a daytime beverage and also to some extent a workplace beverage, energy drinks are an anytime food! you can even get them in mixed drinks for a night out. they're for work AND play. they come in a wide range of dose strengths, including a shooter for when you're in really dire straits. after all, taking caffeine pills feels like "pill-popping," but having a little beverage is fine, right?

at the same time, there is increasing interest in remedies for a variety of unspecific ailments caused by "toxins," the new buzzword in a very old industry of patent nostrums and dubious cure-alls. the theory is that some sort of unspecified substance has entered your body, and in order to feel well again you need to detox and cleanse -- which in practice involves a lot of induced defecation. And this is supposed to be good for feelings of fatigue, muscle soreness, anxiety, stomach upset, and difficulty sleeping.

See where I'm going with this?

The "toxins" that make you feel terrible all the time are caffeine. Not heavy metals, or refined sugar, or vaccines, or yeast. It's just fucking caffeine.

Well, caffeine and chronic overwork/sleep deprivation, which is not entirely a direct result of the caffeine but is certainly enabled/exacerbated by it. Everyone is working too much and taking stimulants to get through the day and in fact experiencing mild overdose symptoms on a fairly regular basis (irritable? jittery? that's caffeine toxicity) and it's no wonder we all feel like shit.

And then! When you come home from your day of pushing your mind and body too hard! It is ALSO normalized to take downers to level out! Alcohol is also a toxin, and it takes a lot less of it to start doing systemic damage than most people realize. When you wake up in the morning feeling foggy and achy, it may not be enough to register as a proper hangover, but it's almost certainly the combined effect of alcohol and caffeine withdrawal. Both mild! Both nearly harmless and easily recovered from! If you're not doing it on a regular basis and if you're getting enough rest, which you're not, as we previously established.

It's the chronicity that's the issue, the neverending grind of it all. You can't recover from chronic sleep deprivation or overwork with an extra few hours of rest on the weekends. You can't recover from long-term chemical dependence with a 24-hour tolerance break. If you're a wage earner in late-stage capitalism your options for reversing the damage are pretty limited and they all look like deprivation: prioritizing an unbroken 8-9 hours of sleep per night may well mean giving up most if not all of your social life and leisure activities. Fuck that.

And to be clear, I don't consider choosing to stay out late with a vodka Red Bull to be a personal failure of any kind, just like I don't think poor people should never buy themselves anything nice. If work keeps trying to take more and more of your time, you gotta carve out time for yourself somewhere. But... y'all know me. I want people to know the risks.

I think a lot of people don't realize that their bodies are under this much strain. They don't know that we are better suited for a 4-6 hour work day, that 6-7 hours of sleep is genuinely not enough for most people, that as little as 2 cups of coffee might be enough to put them over the recommended maximum caffeine intake. They don't know that they're drinking enough alcohol to cause health problems.

If you know and you decide to do it anyway that's fine, it's your right. I do inadvisable shit all the time. But people don't know, they're not being told, because they can't be allowed to question the material conditions they're being forced to endure -- and then they're being sold a bunch of useless or even harmful bullshit to "cure" the inevitable consequences of those conditions.

[chris-corner]

Consolation Prize - Part 2 

Pairing:  Max’s Sister Reader x Lewis Hamilton 

Summary: After ignoring you for the whole winter break, Lewis is back for the new season and sees you flirting with someone else. Combined with his frustrations at the underperformance of the W13 and Max taking the lead once again, he just has to show you who you actually belong to. 

Warnings: 18+, sorry guys more hate-fuelled sex but slightly less angry, jealousy sex, just a bit (probably a lot) toxic, fingering and getting eaten out, overstimulation, unprotected sex, light bondage (hands tied to bed), under-negotiated kinks stillI guess, some spitting and slapping.

Notes: Look… I really was going to do a fixit but also there's lots of cute Lewis fics out there and I kinda love the toxic vibes so Im sorry but also not sorry for writing this. Also its filth.

Word Count: 4624

Part 1

Masterlist

The winter break, you have to admit, was pretty fucking painful. You’d sat waiting for a text you were pretty sure was going to come for the first week or so. After all, it was all such a mess that you were sure Lewis would reach out, and then maybe the tight churning feeling in your chest would stop. Maybe then you could talk through what happened and try and figure out a way to move forward. Sure, it still hurt, but you could understand that it was the heat of the moment and Lewis wasn’t in the best mindset, and neither were you. 

When a week passed and you’d still not heard anything you started to panic. After everything you’d been through you thought that you would come out of this okay, that your friendship, your… whatever you were becoming, would mean more to Lewis than this. 

By the time the new season starts, you’re done being sad about it, instead letting the anger curl up and make a home in your chest. Fine, if he wants to act like a dickhead then whatever. You try and convince yourself you don't care, and for the most part it works. You’re not your brother, and if Lewis can’t see that then fuck him. 

Still, when you walk down the paddock on your way to see Max for the second race of the season, your Red Bull jacket half hanging off your shoulders, you can’t help but panic about seeing him. What if he looks at you, what will you do? What if he wants to talk to you? What if he ignores you? The questions won't stop swirling around your head and you’re so close now to passing the Mercedes garage. 

In a desperate move, you spot a Red Bull mechanic also heading your way and you quickly make your way over to him, introducing yourself and slipping your arm into his, linking your bodies together. He looks a little surprised, but doesn’t seem to mind. You’re Max’s little sister, there's a lot you can get away with. 

It’s so hard not to look over at the garage to see if Lewis is there, but you manage it, laughing a little louder than necessary at whatever the guy, whose name you’ve already forgotten, is trying to say. 

If you had, you’d have seen Lewis look up as soon as he heard your laugh, eyes tracking you until you were out of sight, his jaw clenched as he took in the sight of your linked arms and matching Red Bull logos. 

~ 

Honestly, the guy (whose name you still can’t remember but it’s too late to ask now) isn’t all too bad, and you find yourself going along with the back and forth chat that’s been bordering on flirting. He’s new, you find out, and single, you also find out, and not too bad on the eyes. Still, it’s not like he’s Lewis. You can’t help but feel a stab of pain as the thought crosses your mind but the anger rises in you again and you find yourself flirting a little harder. 

Part of you worries it might be a little cruel to string him on like this, but another part of you figures that you probably should work on moving on from whatever that shitshow with Lewis was, and even though it would probably piss Max off, why not this guy. (You don’t even let yourself think about how mad he’d be if he knew everything that went down last season.) 

It just happens to be perfect luck that the few times you see Lewis over the weekend are the times in which the dude is really trying his best to flirt with you, and if you lean into it a little bit when you catch him looking who can blame you. 

It all comes to a head when someone grabs you by the arm and roughly pulls you into a side room as you’re making your way to meet Max at the media pen. 

“What-” You start, shoving the arm off of you before you realise who it is. 

Lewis. 

He looks at you, jaw clenched, and you feel your breath leave you. God you want him so badly, still, after everything. He’s in his white mercedes shirt, clashing with your Red Bull team jacket, and his hand is still gripping your arm. 

“What are you doing?” He asks sharply, his voice low. 

You take a breath, composing yourself before you say something stupid. Remembering your anger as you look at his fury. 

“Sorry, I didn’t realise I needed your permission to come to races now.” You snark out. 

“No.” He snaps. “What are you doing with him?”

Your eyes widen, oh. Is he jealous? 

“Why do you care? It’s none of your business Lewis, you made that really fucking clear?” 

He pushes you up against the back of the door, his body pressing into you as he clashes his mouth against yours, biting at your lip and before you know it you’re kissing him back, kicking yourself for giving in so quickly. He slides his knee between your legs and your breath hitches in your throat. He smirks against your lips, moving to bite at your throat as he makes his way up to your ear. 

“Do you really think he can give you what you need you little slut?” 

It really should feel more insulting. Your anger hasn’t fully gone away and yet here he is, acting like he has the right to be jealous, calling you a slut like this is what you do. 

Instead you let out a breathy whine in the shape of his name. 

Just like that he’s gone. His hands, which were around your waist, his mouth, the press of his body all gone. You stumble forward a bit, looking over to see him standing a few paces away from you, a frown still on his face. 

“Come to mine, later tonight.” He says, the words coming out more like a demand. 

“Fuck you Lewis.” You say back, suddenly feeling like you could cry but you refuse to give him the satisfaction. 

He clocks the change and something close to guilt flashes across his face watching you shuffle to compose yourself. 

“I..” He starts but you quickly interrupt him. 

“No Lewis you can’t do this. You can't… after everything that happened, after you just left me like that and didn't call or text or anything.” 

“I needed space.” He says, but he sounds unsure now. “Look, will you just come to mine after the race tonight, please.” 

You take a breath. You’re pretty sure it’s a terrible, terrible idea but maybe you can talk it out, maybe you can work past this. “Okay Lew.” You say softly. 

“Make sure nobody sees you.” He frowns and tags on, like being seen with you would be the worst possible thing in the world. You feel the stab of hurt again and quickly push it down. 

Then just like that he turns and leaves, brushing his hand gently against your arm as he does with a small smile. 

~

You hesitate before knocking, pretty sure this is a terrible decision. Max had won the race, Lewis had come p10, struggling pretty much all through the race. You know he’d seen you celebrating with Max. You made eye contact with him as the guy from earlier picked you up and swirled you in the air, letting you down in a way that brushed your whole body against his. Still, despite everything your eyes locked with Lewis. 

He looked furious. 

You didn't even know if his offer would still stand, and if it did, you’re pretty sure he’s not going to want to sit down and talk things out after all that. 

Yet, here you are, standing in front of his door. 

It’s fucked up. You know it is. You know that if you go in that it's just going to end in upset and hurt. But then again, you also haven’t been able to get the memory of his cock filling you out of your head, nor the way he slapped your ass and fucked your throat. Before you know it you’re knocking, squirming and pressing your thighs together with anticipation. 

He looks surprised to see you when he finally opens the door, and you feel your heart rate spike with the thought that you might have made a terrible mistake, but he quickly grabs your arm and pulls you inside. 

“I didn’t think you’d come.” He says once the doors are closed. 

You take a breath. “I’m sorry about your race.” 

It seems to have the opposite effect to what you wanted. His face heardens and his jaw clenches slightly. 

“You seemed to be having fun regardless.” He grits out. “Why are you here? Did your mechanic not put out in the end?” 

It’s needlessly cruel, but you feel yourself squirming at his words. His eyes darken as he notices, and he moves forward to crowd into your space. 

“Or do you know that he can’t give you what you need like I can?” 

Okay then, talking like adults is off the table, toxic sex it is. 

“I distinctly remember not getting what I needed last time Lewis.” You quip, goading him with the reminder of how he didnt let you cum. 

“If we’re going to do this we need a safeword.” He tells you, seemingly ignoring your dig, 

It’s as close to an admission that you’re going to get. As close to him acknowledging how fucked up this is. Still, it settles something in you that despite all of this, Lewis is still Lewis under it all. He’s still the guy you fell for. That if you backed down, told him how you felt, that maybe things would be different, 

Still, you don't want to take the risk, and the heat between your legs is screaming at you to stay quiet. 

“Ferrari.” You say, needing something that’s not going to come up in conversation, something Lewis won’t use to dig at you when he fucks you, something thats not Mercedes or Red Bull connected. 

He nods his agreement, before guiding you into the bedroom. 

Your heart is racing as he wordlessly shrugs your Red Bull jacket off, placing it down on the bed before slipping your top off too. It’s almost cold and methodical but then he runs his fingers over the thin fabric of your bra and you gasp as your nipples begin to harden at the touch.

He pulls you into a kiss, biting almost bruisingly at your lip and slipping his tongue over it a second later, all the while slipping his hand down to unbutton your jeans. You help him, shimmying your trousers down and stepping out of them before pushing back up to capture his lips in yours. 

It feels almost normal, almost like everything you wanted as he unhooks your bra and you let it fall between you, grabbing onto his arms and feeling the muscles flex beneath your touch. 

Until it doesn't. 

He pulls back just as quickly as he did earlier, leaving you standing there exposed, nipples hardening with the cool air, in just your panties. 

“Get on the bed.” He instructs, voice harsh.

You scramble to comply, lying on your back and looking over at him as he grabs your jacket, 

“Might as well make this thing useful.” He laughs. “Hands together above your head, grab the frame.” 

You do it and he smirks down at you as he uses the arms of the jacket to tie your hands to the bed frame. 

“What a sight.” He says, leaning back and admiring his work, looking at you laid out in front of him without a protest. “I almost want to take a picture.” 

He looks at you, a clear question in his eyes and when you say nothing he smirks, getting out his phone and clicking a few pictures of just your hands, tied up with the Red Bull jacket clearly identifiable. He doesnt get your face or you’re body in though, and you can't help but let out a small sigh of relief. 

“I wonder what the team would say if they saw that.” He teases. “Maybe I ought to send it to them, show them what a slut their golden boy's little sister is. Maybe I should send it.” 

“Lewis.” You warn, but his words make you squirm. He puts his phone down but doesn't let up. 

“I bet you’re getting off on this aren’t you. I bet your little pussy is soaking already.” 

“Lewis.” You repeat, but this time it comes out much more of a whine.

He smirks, shoving your legs apart and manhandling you into the position he needs to settle between them. It hits something at your core, being treated like this, like a moveable little doll. 

“Seen as though you didn't get to cum last time, how about we see just how many times you can come tonight.” He smirks. “I want to see you cry for me.” 

“But first.” He says. “I want you to beg for it.”

He brushes his hand up your thigh, across the seam of your underwear and up to your chest. He takes his time teasing your nipples, running his fingers over them and pinching at them slightly before leaning down and taking one into his mouth. You arch your back up, moaning as he bites down before soothing it with his tongue. His other hand reaches between your legs, a feathery brush against your clothed pussy. 

“Lewis please.” You cry out, trying to push up into him but he moves his hand away. 

He pauses, moving to bite at your neck collar bone. “Not good enough.” 

He moves over to your other nipple, repeating the process and pressing against your with a light touch again. 

“Lewis I need you in me please, I need you to fuck me.” 

He pinches your inner thigh, right at the seam of your underwear as he bites down a little harder on your sensitive nipple, the other still hard and cold from where his spit has been left on it. 

“Lewis, come on please. I want you to fuck me. No one else can Lewis, just you. I need your cock so badly.”

He pulls of you with a smirk, running his thumbs over both of your sensitive wet nipples to see you squirm against the restraints before he moves down between your legs, 

“You beg like a whore.” He tells you plainly, not even looking at you as he holds your legs apart. You feel shame welling up inside of you but it’s quickly tempered by lewis pressing against your covered pussy, watching as the fabric darkens with your wetness, 

“Look at that. Soaking already. I knew you would be.”

Without much warning, he pushes two of his fingers into you, over the fabric so that the roughness pushes into you as he uses his other hand to brush over your covered fabric. 

“I want you to cum like this.” He says over your moans. “I want you to cum into your panties like a desperate little toy, needy enough that you’ll cum before I can even get them off you.” 

He presses into you a little harder, jamming them inside of you as he quickens his pace. 

It’s embarrassing, the way his words, this situation, his fingers on and pressing into you get you worked up so quickly, but before you know it you’re cumming, soaking your panties around his fingers as you do. Red hot shame fills you at the speed it took for him to get you off, and you can feel the blush rising on your chest and face. 

“Wow.” He laughs at you. “That really was quick wasn't it, you must be really desperate for it.”

He slips your underwear off, and looks at them contemplatively. 

“Open your mouth.” 

He balls up the soaking wet fabric and presses it into you, making you taste yourself as you lay there, tied up and fully naked, cunt dripping and your underwear shoved in your mouth. He looks at you with pure lust in his eyes.

“Actually,” He tilts his head. “I think I'd rather hear you.” 

He pulls the panties out of your mouth and throws them over the side of the bed, smirking as he watches you close your mouth and taste yourself. It’s ridiculous how he’s just treating this like a game, just using you in whatever way he wants for his own amusement, like you’re just there as a little sex toy for him to position and play with until he gets exactly what he wants, no regard for how humiliating it is for you, 

He spreads your legs again, gently pulling you apart so he can look at your dripping wet pussy. Then, without any warning, he leans over and spits directly onto your cunt, watching it drip down your folds and mix with your wetness. 

“Fucking filthy.” He mutters following the spit with his fingers, running them down your pussy and fucking them straight into you, ignoring your gasp as he brushes over your sensitive clit. 

He fucks into you with quick harsh strokes, grabbing your inner thigh with his other hand to keep you spread wide and pressed into the bed. It feels amazing to finally have him inside of you, even if it's just his fingers. 

“Look at you laying there taking it. Taking whatever I give you huh?” 

“Yeah.” You breath out,

He moves to thumb over your clit again, and you clench around him as you let out a high pitched whine.

“What do you say?” 

“Thank you.” You gasp out as he thumbs your clit. 

He smirks. 

“What’s his name?” 

You can't quite grasp what he’s asking, the pleasure you’re feeling under his hands almost too much. “What?” 

“The mechanic you couldn't keep your hands off all weekend. What. Is. His. Name.” 

He punctuates his words with thrusts of his fingers right into your dripping cunt. 

“I don’t know.” You gasp out. 

“You don't know?” 

“No I, I think he told me …but I forgot. I don’t know.” You try. 

“You don’t…” He lets out a cruel mocking laugh. “You’re such a whore, giving it up for anyone aren’t you, don’t even have to know their name.” He pauses, but his fingers don't. “Or were you just doing it to fuck with me? Is it not enough that the car is shit? Is it not enough that Max is fucking humiliating me on track? Do you have to fuck with me too? Get inside my mind and make me jealous and pissed off?”

He seems to be getting into his monologue, fucking his fingers into you faster, curling them up inside you as he brushes your clit with his thumb faster. 

“If you’re such a good fucking team how about every time Max wins on the track you let me fuck your little cunt exactly how I want. That’s fair don't you think?” 

Not really, you think, it’s not fair at all, it’s incredibly fucked up. 

He pauses after he’s said it, hands stilling, looking at you as if he knows that he’s gone too far. 

Contrary to everything you should be feeling, his words make you moan and tighten around him, so maybe you’re just as fucked yourself. At your noise he starts fucking you again, the pressure on your clit and the effect of his words pushing you to the edge. The idea is so incredibly bad but also if you got to do this more then of course you were going to take it. You came here today after all. 

“Okay. Yeah.” You whine out, and without warning you feel yourself pushed over the edge, tightening around his fingers as he drags yet another orgasm from you. 

“I can't believe.” He grunts out, fucking into you still as you scream his name. “That you think you’re a good enough consolation prize.” 

It’s cruel, but you’re pretty sure it's just all part of the game. Although the words are sharp and cutting, there's not the same anger there was before in Abu Dhabi. 

“Lewis please.” You squirm, the feeling too much for you now. Everything is too sensitive. 

Instead of letting up though, he leans down and runs his tongue over your cunt, pressing into your folds and dragging against your clit hard enough to make you shout out, 

He pulls away. “You’re ruining my sheets.” He comments, looking at the pool of slick beneath you, before leaning back in to suck at your oversensitive clit. 

You can't help the noises that are falling out of your mouth, a mindless babble of choked sobs and whines and half formed protests. It’s surely only a few minutes at most but it feels like an hour of overstimulation before he stops again. 

“Fuck. You look so fucking hot when you cry.”

You didn't even notice the tears running down your face until he pointed them out, desperate and frantic. 

“What's up baby?” He mocks, voice laced with condescension. “This is what you wanted isn't it? To cum? You asked for this.” 

You can't even protest anymore, just let out a choked sobbing noise as he thumbs at your clit before pressing his hot wet mouth against you again, flicking his fingers up unrelentingly as you strain against your tied hands. 

“You know, I was going to make you cum again before I fucked you but I think I want to see you cry while you cum on my cock.” 

He gets undressed finally, stripping out of everything this time and you look at him through tear streaked eyes, watching the way his muscles flex as he slips out of his underwear and palms his rock hard cock. 

Wasting no time at all, he runs his cock up against your sensitive cunt, coating himself in your wetness while you wiggle your hips up, desperate for it both to stop and for him to fill you up. You quickly get your wish as he pushes inside of you 

“Fuck you’re so tight still.” He practically growls out when he slips inside of you, despite everything the stretch of his cock still pulls at you and you throw your head back and moan at the feeling. 

“Just you Lewis.” You choke out. “Just you.”  

You hope he gets what you mean. That despite everything that happened you haven't been with anyone since him. You havent fucked your way around the Red Bull mechanics. 

“That's my good little slut.” He praises, fucking into you hard. 

He runs his hand up to your chest, palming your tits before gently slapping one, watching as it bounces under his hand. 

“Fuck.” He breathes out. “Can I?” 

You don't know why he's asking now, after just doing everything before this, but you can't help but smile at the wonder in his voice, the uncharacteristically gentle question. 

“Please.” 

He repeats the action a little harder, the sound of the slap loud in your ears as he continues to fuck into you, groaning as you tighten around him. You think he’s going to do it again but he just thumbs your nipple, rolling and pinching it between his fingers before he leans down and takes it into his mouth. 

He sits back up, watching your chest bounce as he thrusts into you before pausing to spit on your other nipple, thumb immediately running through the wetness, before following it with him mouth, gently biting at it. 

It’s so good that you feel yourself getting close to the edge again. 

“Lewis, Lewis I’m..” You choke out, and he gets the message, pulling back and moving your legs so that they rest on his shoulders, pressing you forward as he fucks into you deeper. 

He snakes his hand around to find your clit, quickly flicking between feathery touches and hard presses, unrelenting until you finally break. 

This time, it's almost painful when you cum, the pleasure ripped out from your core as you clench around him, tears falling from your face as you cry out his name in a choked sob. 

“There you go.” He says affectionately, then, with more bite, “that wasn't so hard was it.” 

He pulls out of you and runs a hand up your cunt, collecting your wetness and watching as fresh tears fall when he rubs against your clit, your cunt shaking under his touch.

He grabs your tit roughly, smearing your own wetness on your chest. Grinning down at his work, he does it again, watching you whimper for him before he spits down on your chest for good measure. 

He quickly unties your hands, directing you to hold your tits together for him, which you do even though your arms feel a little numb from being tied. He gets between you, dick still wet from your cunt, and thrusts up between your tits, fucking them as you lay there, teary eyed beneath him. 

He’s just made you cum three times, using your body however he wanted, playing with you like you were just there for his amusement, a little, what did he call you, consolation prize to make him feel better. This really seals it for you, him fucking up into your tits just because he can, knowing that youll press them together like a good little girl for him, your own wetness acting as lube. 

“Open your mouth,” He says, breath heavy and voice strained, and you do, letting him fuck up and brush the tip of his cock against your tongue. 

That must do it for him, because before you know it he’s paining your tits and your face with him cum, groaning as he watches you take it. 

It’s humiliating, you think, but mostly, mostly it’s really fucking hot. 

He moves off of you, looking down at you before swiping his cum off your cheek. You briefly think it’s a rather caring move, before he shoves his fingers into your mouth for you to clean them, repeating the action until you’ve taken it all, swallowing it down like a good little slut for him. 

“Shit.” He says, laughing a little as he sits back against the bed. 

“Yeah.” You say a little breathless. 

You sit in silence for a while, recovering with his body a warm solid presence next to you. At one point he slips his hand over yours, threading your hands together. 

“You okay?” He asks eventually, his voice a little unsure. 

“Yeah.” You smile up at him, tired and exhausted. “You?”

“Yeah,” 

It’s not the talk you envisioned coming into this, but it’s something. 

“Can I use your shower before I go?” You ask, blushing slightly. 

He laughs a little, running his fingers briefly over your sticky chest. “Yeah, of course.” 

When you get out of the shower, he’s not in the bedroom anymore, so you quickly get changed, stuffing your ruined panties into your pocket and grabbing your jacket. 

You find him in the living room, and he watches you as you make your way towards the door. 

“I meant it, you know. About fucking you every time he wins.” He says before you open the door. 

So maybe you’re not as okay as you thought. Still, you can't help but be a little thrilled at the outcome. 

He raises his eyes as a challenge. 

“So did I.” You wink, quickly slipping out of the door before he can reply. 

Looks like you’ll be coming to a lot more races this season then, you know, just in case they don’t fix those porpoising issues… 

[demetriandelibinaryboyfriends]

@ckhalloween23 heyyyyyy bestie(s) I know I'm an entire-ass month late, BUT

HERE'S A PREVIEW OF THE ELIMETRI DARKFIC I PROMISED

Listen, y'all can't give me a "Serial Killers" prompt and the opportunity to write the dark, unhinged Demetri Alexopoulos of my dreams presented on a silver platter and NOT expect me to go a little apeshit ^^;

Or. A lot apeshit. Because boy did I let this funny little comic relief guy SNAP ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Also, funnily enough, I realized over the course of the last year or so that I'm probably autistic? For the longest time I held off on writing Hawk's POV because I hc him as autistic and I didn't think I could do him justice, but...I've unlocked this Fun Secret Collector's Item now, I guess XD Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz POV acquired!

Decided to give it a stab here, since him having NO fucking idea how to react to Crazy Demetri was just too much fun. Hawk came to me surprisingly easy once I got started, actually??? I mean I've always related to him a lot but I had no idea it was like. An autism thing. I thought it was just an ND thing akisudhlkuhyfu

Head's up to Tory and Robby stans...this may not be the fic for you. You have been warned 👀

CW for blood, violence, knife-threatening, light knifeplay, toxic relationships (although YMMV), mentions of murder, implied slut-shaming, homophobic slurs, and sexual subtext.

Fic under the cut! As always, moodboard pic credits available upon request :3

***

Hawk’s on his 30th rep when he hears the front door.

He stops mid-jab, the punching bag rattling on its chain as it sways back and forth. Scoffing, he rolls his eyes.

His mom must be home early. How fucking annoying.

He was looking forward to having the house to himself. With his father on a weekend-long business trip and his mother at her Friday night wine hangout, he was finally going to catch up on training without any interruptions.

The last thing he needs is to be outdone by Kyler Park and Robby Fucking Keene.

Hopefully his mom won’t come knocking, pestering him to watch movies or some other frivolous crap. He doesn’t have time for that anymore.

Strange. There’s a notable lack of the jingling and clattering that usually comes from 50 million things being shifted through an oversize purse. Hawk pauses, listening for any noise.

Maybe he imagined it.

“What the hell.” He takes a sip of the Red Bull on his bedside. Some sleep-deprived delirium or whatever it was wasn’t going to fuck up his focus.

Sure, he’s been averaging 5 hours a night, but who gives a shit? It’s not like anyone in high school actually gets enough sleep.

Sensei Kreese said in ‘Nam, they had to be ready to fight on a moment’s notice—geared to slaughter enemies after a mere 30 minutes’ rest in 48 hours. Hawk doesn’t strive for anything less.

The stairs creak.

His mom isn’t usually one for sneaking past his room, but perhaps she’s too tired to be chatty. He thanks the powers that be this seems to be the case, and returns to his reps.

Jab, cross, roundhouse. Jab, cross, roundhouse. Elbow. Knee to the chest.

He counts them out as he goes, power surging through him. Sensei will be sorry he started singing Keene’s praises when Hawk’s a better fighter than that piece of shit ever was.

Because throwing someone off a balcony when they had their guard down was a coward’s move. Typical Miyagi Do bullshit.

God, Hawk hates them. Hypocrites. Losers. Pussies.

He thinks of a new insult every time he lands a punch.

Miguel’s fucking insane for not appreciating what Cobra Kai did to get payback. What Hawk did to get payback.

His fists are starting to ache, fingers burning from being smashed against rubber again and again. Hawk doesn’t care.

Sensei would say the pain makes him stronger.

Jab cross jab cross jab cross jab cross jab cross jab cross jab cross—

“You know, at some point, I think you’re as good as you’re going to get at punching.”

A shadow blocks the hallway light.

Dread grips him in frosty talons. His arms still, the punching bag swinging back and smacking his chest.

He gasps, stumbling back. Still, he refuses to look at the doorway.

Refuses to let Demetri see his shock.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?”

He presses as much venom into the words as possible. Enough intimidation, and Demetri will back down.

He knows now that Hawk is as real a threat as he ever was. And Demetri’s smart enough not to keep poking at a tiger that’s already mauled him.

“In what world would I not remember where you keep your spare keys?” Demetri sneers.

Well. Maybe that’s a bit generous.

“What do you want?”

Hawk keeps his tone steely, hoping he can kill whatever plans are swimming around his ex-best-friend’s head before they even form. In all likelihood, Demetri’s here to be a nuisance at best and a night-ruiner at worst.

Fucking Demetri. He’s always been such a distraction.

Hawk needs to get rid of those.

He thought he did. But Demetri is apparently either too stupid or too obsessed with the past to be properly scared away.

Irritating, but admittedly also interesting. It shows a kind of boldness that he wouldn’t expect Demetri, of all people, to have.

“Maybe I want to check in on my best friend.” Groaning footfalls as Demetri starts to slowly cross Hawk’s room. “I see you avoiding me at school. And you didn’t even bother to show when your little friends crashed Sam’s party. Perhaps I want to see how you are, hmmmm?”

And try as he might, Hawk can’t pick up the usual sarcastic edge to Demetri’s tone. He frowns at his far wall, confused.

There’s something odd in Demetri’s voice, and Hawk can’t for the life of him pick up what it is.

He still refuses to look at his oldest friend. He’s not going to give him the satisfaction of undivided attention.

Demetri is a pest, and should be treated as such.

“We’re not best friends,” Hawk says tightly, landing another punch on his bag. “Whatever we were? It’s done. Has been for a long time. Why can’t you get that?”

He finally graces Demetri with a look. He’s expecting the usual sullen look—scrunched brow, open mouth, widened eyes. Like he’s eternally surprised Hawk doesn’t need him anymore.

A look where maybe, if he prods it farther, Demetri will storm off. Or run off crying. Be out of Hawk’s sight.

Be somewhere where Hawk doesn’t have to think about that night at Golf N Stuff. Or how it felt to watch Demetri writhe on the floor. Or the streams of vomit that ripped from Hawk’s stomach as soon as he got home.

Or what he did to himself in the wee hours of the morning, when no one—not his mother, not Cobra Kai, not Sensei Kreese—was around to see.

But when Hawk glances over now, Demetri is smiling.

Not a contemptuous sneer, or a pained grimace. A full-on grin, splitting his cheeks and stretching much wider than the situation calls for.

Hawk inhales sharply.

Demetri shakes his head, laughing. “It’s almost endearing, you know. What a tryhard you are.”

He squares his jaw, refusing to budge as Demetri advances on him. “I thought I made it pretty clear what I think about you. You want another reminder?”

Hawk balls his fists, trying not to think about how hard the words are to force out. How hard he’s working to keep the iron shell he’s built around himself intact.

A strange smell hovers around Demetri. Acrid and metallic, like he’s spent too much time mucking around inside one of those computers he’s so besotted with.

“How revoltingly naïve.” Green eyes burn into him like acid, the glint behind them unlike anything he’s ever seen. “You thought you’d break my arm once and be done with me?

Hawk finds himself backing away.

“I’m not going to make it that easy for you, Hawk.”

Something in the way Demetri spits his new name finally gives him clarity.

“So what the fuck do you want from me?” he spits. “Why did you come here?”

“I came here because you were right. About everything.”

Any response is snatched from Hawk’s mouth.

For several seconds, all he can do is stare. Demetri smirks, apparently reveling in getting a leg up.

Hawk is so confused that he can’t even find it in himself to be angry. A strangled “what?” is all that comes out, pulling a snigger from his adversary.

“You think you’ve got it all figured out. Becoming the scariest fighter in the Valley. Making everyone quiver at the sight of you. Doing whatever you like because people aren’t brave enough to tell you no. Becoming your badass karate teacher’s little golden child. Getting rid of your weaknesses. Getting rid of me. But there’s one thing you got wrong.”

Typical Demetri. Monologuing around the point.

But Hawk is, nonetheless, finding his confusion turning to intrigue.

The mopey kicked puppy routine had gotten unbearably tedious. At least Demetri finally has the decency to give Hawk some variety.

“Oh, yeah?” He curls his lip. “What’s that?”

Demetri casually leans on Hawk’s dresser, like this is nothing more than a Friday night video game session.

“You think I avoid fights because I’m scared. But that’s not true anymore.” And there’s that grin again—that wide, unnerving grin that looks like it was pasted on from another human being’s face. The sort of manic look that would never in a thousand years belong on Demetri Alexopoulos.

“I avoid fights because I know who’s worth fighting. And who’s worth hurting.”

Well, that’s new.

Hawk narrows his eyes, trying to piece together if this is all some kind of trick.

“See, Eli, you were right that the world isn’t kind to people who get too soft.” Demetri starts sauntering over again, and that odd, metallic smell strengthens. “Or losers. Or weaklings. Or people who admit defeat. Give in too easily. Run off cowering and scared. So I’m shaking all that off. Next time I fight, I won’t lose.”

As Hawk pieces everything together, he scowls.

“So that’s what you want?” he hisses. “A rematch? Like you’d stand a chance.”

“So touchy. Do you only think of people in terms of whether you can beat them in a fight now? Boooooring.”

Demetri clicks his tongue disapprovingly. It’s a mocking gesture he’s been doing since they were little, but now something about it feels chilling.

Hawk’s back bumps his bedroom wall. Demetri’s closing in on him.

Fucking hell—he’s getting fed up with this cat-and-mouse. Why is he even entertaining this stupid nerd again?

It’s not like he gives a shit about him anymore. Then he wouldn’t snap his arm in half.

“Fuck off, Demetri!” he roars. “I fucking hate you. I don’t give a shit about anything you have to say! Get the hell out of my house, or I swear to god I’ll break your arm again.”

He fills the words with fire and force and poison, hoping something will hurt Demetri enough to make him go.

He can’t cave again. Not after he’s worked this hard to oust Demetri and everything he represents from his life.

Not after he’s severed Demetri’s bone with his own hands and smiled with his friends about it.

That should’ve been the last straw. That should’ve been what sent Demetri running for good, abandoning everything they’d once had to save himself.

But it didn’t. It fucking didn’t.

Demetri takes another step into his space, curling his lip. “You’re full of shit.”

“Fuck you.” Eli returns his stare, baring his teeth. “How are you so sure?”

“Because you hesitated.”

Hawk goes rigid.

“I begged you to stop.” Demetri’s hands slide onto the wall on either side of him, trapping him. “And you thought about it. You didn’t break my arm until all your psychotic teammates goaded you on. If you really hated me?” His voice drops to a breathy whisper. “You wouldn’t have even thought twice.”

“You don’t know shit.”

Demetri snickers.

“Poor little Eli. You’ve always sucked at arguing when you get backed into a corner.”

“I still broke it,” Hawk growls. “You know I can do it. Easily. So how are you stupid enough that you’re still fucking with me? You some kind of masochist?”

“You still care about me, Eli.” They’re inches apart now, Demetri leering over Hawk. “You never got over me not wanting to join your little club of sociopaths. Whenever there’s a rumble, you can’t stay away from me. And you want to know what I think?”

“Shut up.”

Demetri’s voice is husky in Hawk’s ear. “You wouldn’t hurt me when there’s no one to show off to.”

Hawk’s done with this.

He lunges, shoving Demetri’s chest and flying at him with an outstretched fist. He waits for that gratifying moment of shock—the familiar shift in Demetri’s features as he realizes yet again Hawk has no intention of going easy on him.

Demetri doesn’t even blink as he moves out of the way.

Hawk course-corrects, swiveling and diving for Demetri again. He throws the fastest punch he can manage straight at Demetri’s jaw.

Why the hell won’t he give up?

Demetri’s fantastic at giving up. He always has been. He gave up on standing up to bullies and he gave up on Cobra Kai and he gave up on Sensei Kreese.

So why won’t he give up on Hawk?

Demetri doesn’t dodge this time. He only swerves, allowing the fist to graze his chin.

He lets out a hiss of pain—angry, but not surprised.

Without warning, Demetri’s hands shoot up. Hawk freezes as long fingers snake across the skin of his arm.

The next second he’s screaming, Demetri’s hands twisting until his skin burns. The other boy’s grip tightens, thrusting him toward the floor.

He’s stealing my fucking moves again.

And frustratingly, he can do them fast. Hawk barely manages to use his other arm to shove Demetri off, stumbling back.

Even one moment of disorientation is too long. Demetri charges again, teeth bared like a wild animal.

One arm slams him against his bedroom wall while the other digs into his chest, squeezing the air out of him. And Hawk hates to admit it, but Demetri’s training-broadened shoulders have a terrifying amount of power behind them.

Nothing he can’t handle. Hawk’s taken on bigger opponents before.

He squirms in Demetri’s grip, his own arms loosening enough for his hands to make a grab for the taller boy’s throat. Then Demetri’s pinning hand is gone, slipping in and out of his jacket in what feels like less than a heartbeat.

Something cold and sharp presses Hawk’s throat. His hands drop, tensing against the wall.

“What the fuck…?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you, Eli.” Demetri tilts his head, pouting mockingly. “But you make it so damn hard to talk to you. Can’t do a thing without you coming at me like some kind of rabid coyote.”

“So you pull a…are you fucking insane?”

“Like you’re one to talk, Mr. Red Hulk Rage Issues.” The pout morphs into a smirk. “Clearly, you’re not above playing dirty, using that sad little Eli voice of yours to get out of trouble. Figured it was time I caught up.”

Hawk feels something sticky dripping down his neck. His breath hitches in his throat.

He aims a hit at Demetri’s stomach. The taller boy bends with it, and the blade presses harder.

“Oh, come now.” Demetri tuts disapprovingly. “Don’t make me slit your throat.”

Hawk hardens his expression, channeling everything in him into hiding the shock.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I don’t think you’re in a great place to test that.”

And he’s right. Hawk hates it, but he’s right.

This isn’t the Demetri he knows better than the back of his hand. The Demetri he knows so uncomfortably well that he convinced himself over and over and over that it meant he was sick of the fucking geek.

This isn’t grounded, rational, sensible Demetri. Something’s snipped his threads, made him start fraying at the edges.

He’s unraveling, floating in an ether where the pragmatic and the path of least resistance that he made his life philosophy are losing their appeal. He’s…

Well, it seems he’s done some script-flipping of his own. Decided—perhaps on a whim—to overhaul everything Hawk knew and replace it with something cold and alien and completely fucking unpredictable.

Was this how Demetri felt, that day Hawk showed up at school with spiked hair and a conniving sneer? Is this some kind of payback?

He doesn’t care if this new boy with a knife to his throat killed and gutted the friend he grew up with. It doesn’t matter anymore. That relationship only ever got in the way, anyhow.

He truly could not care less. Honest.

The only emotion he feels is annoyance that this new opponent will be harder to match, with erratic moves and a quickly-thinning conscience.

This Demetri isn’t pulling any punches. One stupid or sloppy move, and Hawk will be on the floor gurgling his life out.

He’s never taken Demetri for someone impulsive, but perhaps he just had a talent for controlling his most brutal and primal urges—for his own safety, if nothing else. Perhaps he’s lost this ability.

Hawk wonders what it says about him that he isn’t bothered by this at all. If anything, he finds the whole concept exhilarating.

Fighting Demetri had gotten so boring. Now, at last, they’re on equal footing.

Regardless, there could be a trace of the Old Demetri yet. He might be able to use that.

“Put the fucking knife away or I’ll call the cops,” Hawk snarls. “Think you’ll get into Stanford with a police report on your permanent record? Or whatever fucking nerd school you’re trying to—”

“With what phone?” Demetri interrupts. “The one you left on the coffee table downstairs so it won’t distract you from wailing on your stupid bag?”

Fuck. How did Demetri even notice shit like that?

Hawk tries not to let the dismay show.

“When my mom gets home, she’ll—”

“Mommy’s not coming for you, Eli.” Demetri’s smirk widens. “Mommy’s getting drunk with all her friends to forget her unfulfilled suburban picket fence life with her nasty, violent delinquent of a son. And Mommy’s going to crash at Michelle Galinski’s house, just like she has every Friday night for the past 10 years. And oh dear…Daddy’s out of town on his top-of-the-month business trip? Looks like no one’s coming to save you.”

Fuck that. He can save himself.

Hawk makes a grab for Demetri’s wrist, other hand clawing at the arm compressing his chest. Demetri seamlessly lifts the elbow of his knife-holding arm and jabs the bony appendage into Hawk’s skin.

The knife blade doesn’t even falter, pressing more firmly into Hawk’s neck. A sting, and he feels something warm trickle toward his chest.

The scent from earlier intensifies, and Hawk realizes abruptly that it must have been blood.

“Mmmm-mmmm.” Demetri purses his lips and shakes his head, like he’s scolding a disobedient child. “It’ll make it much easier for both of us if you don’t act up. I really don’t want to cut your throat, but I will.”

As Demetri sneers down at him, Hawk realizes too late that he couldn’t cover his alarm.

“What? Don’t think I’d actually hurt you?”

The taller boy fiddles with the knife, sending little pricks of pain rippling through Hawk’s neck.

“I guess you know how it feels now,” he purrs.

Hawk spits in Demetri’s face, sudden fury overtaking him.

This pathetic nerd’s not going to make him feel bad now. Not after everything he’s done to crush the part of himself that possibly could feel bad.

“Fuck you.”

And slowly, never once breaking his gaze, Demetri licks Hawk’s saliva off his chin. The dim hallway light just catches the moisture on his face.

“Keep it in your pants, Moskowitz. We’re not there yet.”

Now Demetri’s definitely fucking with him.

It’s growing tiresome. Nonetheless, he doesn’t want that cut in his neck getting any wider.

There’s something distinctly unnerving about the way Demetri’s eyes are boring into him, sizing him up with a kind of cold contempt. Looking at him like he’s nothing more than some ugly insect to crush under his shoe.

It’s the sort of callousness that Hawk has never once—not in the entire time he’s known Demetri—been the target of.

And maybe he’ll admit it. He dislikes it for more than just the fact it throws him off.

Demetri is spiraling into someone unrecognizable, and the sheer foreignness of the whole process makes Hawk shudder.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Hawk’s voice is small and weak. Like Eli’s.

He doesn’t care.

His entire sense of reality—every absolute, irrefutable truth he’s ever attached to himself and his life and his oldest friend—is uprooting and spinning out of control, and it’s not like anything fucking matters anymore.

Demetri laughs—a sharp, hollow sound devoid of any real humor.

“Like you’re one to talk. I know what you did to Brucks.”

Hawk’s blood freezes.

“Yeah, that’s right.” Demetri’s knife slides from the cut on Hawk’s neck, beginning to tease the underside of his chin. “Mitch told us what happened. And I damn well noticed when Brucks stopped showing up to school. Nice of your war criminal sensei to help you cover that up.”

Hawk’s breath comes in quick, short gasps.

Of course Demetri put two and two together. Of course he’d gone snooping so he could find something else to hang over Hawk’s head.

And the fall of that knife might be worse than the one currently tickling his jaw.

Part of him hates it. Hates being reminded of that day and hates being reminded what he’s capable of. Hates remembering the sight of a living, breathing person crumpling to the floor, and realizing they would never get up again.

But Hawk isn’t stupid. If anyone can play Demetri’s games, it’s the person who knows him better than anyone in the world.

“Demetri.” He keeps his tone as calm and non-abrasive as he can. “Who else’s blood is on your knife?”

Because it was still wet when Demetri shoved it up against him. And Demetri’s a moron if he thinks Hawk missed that.

“Ah. And we finally get to that.” Demetri chuckles, gently tracing Hawk’s jawline with the honed edge. “You see…the difference between you and me, Eli, is that I don’t need anyone’s help to hide my bodies.”

His heart drops to his feet.

“What did you do?”

“Not any worse than you.” Demetri cocks his head. “I hurt someone who deserved it.”

“Demetri.” Hawk steels his voice. “What did you do?”

Because whatever it was, Hawk sure as hell needs to take the proper precautions to make certain he isn’t next.

“Stopped at the convenience store on the way over here.” Demetri follows the knife with his eyes as he talks, expression almost affectionate. “Ran into one of Kyler’s old buddies from the wrestling team. One of the kids who used to call us fags, remember? He thought it would be fun to shove me around. So I pretended I was running my ass away, and got him to chase me somewhere a little more…private.”

Hawk gapes at him.

“Did you really…?”

“Shanked the asshole like a pig. He was so surprised he didn’t even fight back. And let me tell you, it was the most fun I’ve had in a while.”

And there’s that laugh again—the broken, disjointed chortles that feel so jarringly out-of-place. Green eyes shining with a frenetic light that makes Hawk’s hands grow slick with sweat.

Demetri leans in again, knife held steady as his lips brush Hawk’s ear.

“I know how it feels, you know. I know what it is to get so angry that you don’t even know what your body’s doing until it’s too late. Watch the life fade out of another human being’s eyes. Realize you like it. Sit there panicking about being some kind of inhuman monster and then suddenly realizing you don’t fucking care. And I suppose…I suppose that’s another reason you were right. There is a certain freedom in embracing that the world is cruel and cutthroat and unforgiving. In finally unmuzzling the wild animal thrashing around inside you and letting it hunt the way it was always meant to.”

Hawk shudders.

Sensei Kreese promised no one would ever find out about Brucks. Staged some kind of car accident or binge-drinking tragedy or drug OD or some other way stupid teenagers die all the time. Kyler was barred from the funeral, with Kreese worried (probably reasonably) that the dumbass would let something slip.

Kreese told the class that if anyone snitched, he’d be more than willing to look the other way as they met the same fate as Brucks.

Hawk hated how much he enjoyed it. He hated how after the deed was done, he couldn’t find a scrap of guilt in his psyche. It made him feel detached from himself—the abstract idea that doing that to another person was bad, but the complete lack of any emotions to back it up.

But that’s who he is now. No going back, he supposes.

Perhaps, on some level, he figured Demetri would pick up on this and leave him alone. Decide that Hawk’s path was too dark and too dangerous for his pasty basement nerd tastes, and stay huddled away with the Miyagi Dos singing kumbaya.

That would probably be best for him, anyways. Hawk still doesn’t know what other horrific shit he has it in him to do, especially when his victim pleaded so hard for mercy that would never come. When Brucks’ fruitless begging gave him an unmistakable rush.

And yet here Demetri is, claiming he was in a similar position. Claiming he lost control.

It isn’t that Demetri can’t put on an act if he needs to. But on some level, Hawk’s always been able to tell when his best friend is exaggerating or embellishing to make a story more interesting. There’s a kind of snarky undertone he uses, always giving that he isn’t completely serious. Subtle, but easy to pick up if you’re familiar with it.

There’s none of that here. If anything, this is the kind of emotional vulnerability Demetri never displays intentionally.

Until now, apparently.

Hawk bites his lip. “You’re not lying, are you?”

“You’re so cute.” The tip of the knife jabs into the underside of Hawk’s chin. “You thought I was some…what? Some sissy little do-gooder? The pinnacle of morality and mercy and all great virtues? No, no.” He giggles. “I’ve always been as fucked up as you. I only managed to keep it buried longer.”

Hawk scowls, suddenly remembering exactly who he’s talking to.

“Give me a fucking break. You joined the pussy-ass ‘defense only’ karate dojo. Your entire philosophy is about being sissy little do-gooders. Like you’d have the balls to pull even half the shit Cobra Kai—”

The knife flies back to the wound in his throat, Demetri using his arm to ram Hawk harder into the wall.

“You think I ever gave a flying fuck about Miyagi-Do?” he spits. “You think I’m some slavering pet like you, tripping over my little lapdog paws to appease my sensei’s every command? You think these asinine karate wars ever mattered to me? No.” He shoves his face into Hawk’s, blood on his breath. “You’re the one so obsessed with following orders that you can’t even remember who you were before you became some demented old man’s attack dog. You’re the one so drunk on loyalty to a fucking karate dojo that you can’t see none of this shit matters.”

Hawk bares his teeth, hoping with everything he has that Demetri won’t notice him shaking.

“Easy for you to say, when you pussied out after one punch in the face,” he sneered. “Of course you want to believe all of this is pointless when you’re on the losing team. But I’m not like you, Demetri. I’m no quitter.”

“Oh, how admirable.” The knife presses a little harder. “Tell me then, Hawk. How’s being on the same team as Kyler? As fucking Robby Keene? You excited for the chance to help them hurt Miguel again?”

Red-hot rage rips through Hawk. He lifts a leg and knees Demetri’s shin as hard as he can.

Demetri barely even winces. His other foot kicks up, ramming the side of Hawk’s knee. Hawk scrambles for balance, heart pounding as he just avoids falling into the knifepoint.

“Thought that’d hit a nerve.”

“Fuck you!” Hawk spits. “Keene was from your fucking dojo! You fought with him, too!”

“Not since he hurt Miguel.”

Demetri’s voice is frigid, rivaling the most biting winter rains. Every inch of him drips with a venomous hatred that Hawk has never seen before.

Not directed at him. Not directed at anyone.

“And now he’s in your dojo. Funny how that works.” Demetri clicks his tongue. “Guess your roaring rampage of revenge was all for naught.”

“It wasn’t.” Hawk curls his lip. “You were all responsible, and we got our paypack. It’s not our fault Miguel wasn’t grateful.”

“Ooooh, gotta love the Hawk’s impeccable logic! ‘Ah, yes, I think I will terrorize everyone in this dojo except for the person who actually almost killed my friend, who I will agree to team up with for some reason!’” Demetri returns his sneer. “Are you really such an obedient little bitch that you do whatever your precious sensei tells you? Even when you damn well know it makes no sense? You’re more pathetic than I thought.”

“Park and Keene know their place,” Hawk hisses. “They know I’m the alpha. They answer to me.”

Demetri cocks his head, looking amused.

“Even if I were to believe that. Do you like sharing a class with those assholes? Do you like knowing that if one of them were to get their ass handed to them by a Miyagi-Do or an Eagle Fang—by Miguel—that you’d be expected to rescue them?”

“I’d do it.” Hawk grits his teeth. “I wouldn’t like it, but I’d fucking do it. Sensei Kreese gave Sensei Lawrence and the others a chance to join back up with Cobra Kai, and they said no. Miguel chose his side.”

Demetri sighs, expression almost pitying.

“I guess ‘Cobra Kai for life’ trumps a Cobra’s desire to beat another Cobra into the damn ground. Kind of a shame. I think you’d enjoy hurting them.”

What Demetri said earlier circles back into his mind.

I avoid fights because I know who’s worth hurting.

Hawk straightens, keeping his composure.

“Sensei says we need all the allies we can get,” he says. “Even if we don’t like them. I’m putting up with Kyler and Robby long enough to win the tournament, and that’s it. Then I’ll find some way to weed them out.”

“I doubt it.” Demetri smiles down at him. If it weren’t for the knife, Hawk would punch his teeth in. “Contrary to how you act, I know you’re a smart guy. If you knew how to get rid of them, you would have already. No, Eli…” His voice drops to a purr. “You’re stuck with them, aren’t you?”

Hawk feels sick.

Leave it to Demetri to pinpoint his deepest fears—a karate clan filled with the worst people Hawk knew. Not a single friend to speak of, and a sensei with constantly divided attention.

Even Tory was turning out to be a fucking snake in the grass. She certainly took to the boy who nearly killed her ex with not an ounce of guilt.

And yet she believed with all of her being that Demetri deserved a broken arm for what Robby Keene did. That he was a pussy for crying out in pain. Actions didn’t matter to her—only the name branded across the merchandise you wore and the color of your gi at tournaments.

For the first time, the thought makes Hawk seethe.

All this time she’d seemed nothing but tough and fearless, but all she was was a shallow bitch who cared more about rank and status than a damn thing you actually did.

She was always going to hate Sam LaRusso for being rich and popular. She was always going to hate Miyagi Do for its association with LaRusso. But the second Keene bailed? Put on a belt with a cobra on it and showed off his snake-snatching skills?

She couldn’t wait to get on his dick. The filthy slut.

And suddenly Hawk realizes that he hates her, too. He hates so many of the people who are supposed to be his allies. But he can’t afford to think like that. And most of all, he can’t afford to let Demetri see it.

He glowers up at his ex-best-friend, keeping his gaze stony. “And why do you care? You have your posse of Miyagi losers to pal around with. Why do you give a shit what I do? Just go home to your little—”

“I left Miyagi-Do!”

The words come out in a forceful scream that practically knocks Hawk even further into the wall.

The sheer disdain in Demetri’s eyes for the group he had so cozily assimilated into sends Hawk reeling. He’d never—not in this lifetime or the next—expect Demetri to toss the whole lot of them out like garbage.

Demetri breaks into another grin, reveling in Hawk’s stunned silence.

“See, that’s another difference between you and I, Eli. I don’t need some washed-out old man telling me what to believe and how to fight. I can think for myself. And frankly, I got sick of the ‘safety in numbers’ business when it seemed ‘the numbers’ were always the ones who got to pick my enemies for me. And no one—” His eyes burn into Hawk. “No one decides that but me. I hurt who I like when I like, and I’ll fucking gut anyone who gets in my way.”

Hawk exhales slowly, keeping his scowl pulled tight.

“So…what?” Hawk sneers. “You’re going to fight Cobra Kai by yourself now? That’s so fucking stupid.”

“Not all of them. Some of your class are just brainwashed idiots who don’t know what they’re doing.” He sighs, shaking his head. “And you, Eli…well, I think you’ve lost sight of who your true enemy is. I was hoping I could help.”

“You really bounced?” Hawk narrows his eyes, still trying to make sense of everything. “After everything, you…just up and left?”

It can’t be that easy. He knows it wouldn’t be in Cobra Kai.

“Yeah.” Demetri shrugs. “And now I have way more time for important things.”

“I don’t get it.” Hawk’s frown deepens. “Why would you strike off on your own? Did something happen?”

“You happened.”

Short. Simple. Concise.

Completely baffling.

Not that that was anything new today.

Maybe it’s Hawk’s imagination, but the knife loosens a little.

“Don’t you get it?” For the first time all night, something like genuine anguish prods through Demetri’s voice. “I meant what I said. I never gave a rat’s ass about the karate wars, or the stupid dojo feuds. All I ever wanted was to be worth your fucking time again.”

All Hawk can do is stare.

It doesn’t make sense. None of this makes any fucking sense.

“And sure,” Demetri concedes after a moment. “At first, I wanted to do right by Mr. LaRusso. By Sam. They were the ones who taught me. Toughened me up into something worthwhile. Worked with all the shit you thought was a lost cause. But it was always a means to an end to stay relevant to you. Then after what happened with Moon, I genuinely thought the Miyagi-Do philosophy would help you. But I learned soon enough that you were in too deep for appealing to the Old Eli to work. No, I had to speak to you in your own language.”

He licks his lips as the knife starts to slide up Hawk’s neck again, dancing over the bottom of his chin and onto the plump skin of his lips.

“Aggression. Violence. Dominance.” He chuckles. “Wasn’t my go-to, but if it got your attention, I could make it work. And I guess I did, huh? I riled you up enough that you couldn’t leave me alone.”

“You wanted to piss me off?”

“If that’s what it took to keep you coming back for more.” And there it is again—that wide, sadistic grin that feels so brutally wrong. “You can leave me, Eli. You can disown me. You can shit on everything we had and make my life a living hell. But you can’t bring yourself to just ignore me. Because you’re so weak that you can’t bear to refuse the bait when I press your buttons. Because as much as you claim to hate me, you can’t move on from me.”

“And now you ditch your team to…what? Fight me on your own?” Hawk matches Demetri’s grin with one of his own. “I’d wreck you. And deep down, you know it.”

“So presumptuous.” Demetri shakes his head, tutting. “Frankly, I came here tonight because I’m sick of fighting you.”

“Says the one with a knife to my throat.”

“That’s because you don’t fucking listen without me having to resort to extreme measures,” Demetri hisses. “I think we’re a lot closer to being on the same page than you think. And maybe if you dropped this whole tribalism bullshit, you’d see that.”

So Demetri wants a truce. Hawk should have known.

He’s not surprised. But the way they arrived here?

Now that’s a twist.

It’s still an insane concept. Like he’s supposed to let his greatest enemy off the hook. Let Demetri get away with all the ways he’s undermined him and humiliated him and put the Old Eli—the weak, pathetic nerd Eli—on blast for all the world to see.

But if Demetri really left Miyagi Do…

Hawk finds himself wondering how much of his rage against the Miyagi Dos is his own, and how much is Sensei Kreese’s. And if Demetri’s truly deserted “the enemy,” does Hawk still have to hate him?

Does he even want to?

Demetri isn’t that pathetic, sniveling dweeb anymore. He’s crushed his old self as brutally as Hawk has.

Because the Demetri Hawk has known all his life could scarcely bring himself to cook with sharp knives, let alone use one to threaten another human being’s life.

Or take one.

But despite everything, something still doesn’t add up.

“I heard about your little rousing speech,” Hawk says. “About how important it was for Miyagi Do and Eagle Fang to unite against the ‘biggest assholes in the Valley.’ And now you’ve abandoned both of them. Was that all just a load of crap, then?”

Demetri is unfazed.

“Call me naïve, but I thought if Miguel and I were on the same team, you’d finally see some damn sense. You’d hurt me, sure. I’ve known that for a while. But I never thought you’d touch the kid you went on a vengeance quest for.” He shrugs. “Color me surprised when you wrote him off as just another enemy.”

“I told you.” Hawk works his fingers against the wall again, uneasiness trickling over his skin. “Miguel chose his side.”

“Be that as it may. I figured if you were so far gone that you were ready to wail on literally every person you used to be friends with, I needed to adjust my strategy.”

“For what?”

“For getting through to you. For getting you to tell the truth.”

And Hawk doesn’t want to think for too long about what truth Demetri has in mind.

“So you pull out a fucking knife.”

“Mhm.” Demetri snickers. “That’s how you communicate, yeah? Threats and intimidation?”

Hawk clenches his jaw. “I’m not scared of you.”

“Is that so.” The arm suddenly lifts from squeezing Hawk’s chest, long fingers seizing his wrist. He’s too surprised to pry them away.

He really should be expecting this kind of insane bullshit by now.

“Your pulse is going haywire, Eli,” Demetri murmurs. “Either you’re a liar, or something else has you energized. I wonder what that could be?”

It’s then Hawk’s mind fully catches up to its surroundings.

He rips his wrist away, pivoting away from the knife and sending a knee into Demetri’s ribs. The knife tip slices his cheek, but so be it. He’s endured worse.

Demetri gasps, stumbling back. Hawk makes a grab for the knife.

The taller boy is still too quick. He holds the weapon out of reach, using his other arm to thrust Hawk’s body back.

Before Demetri can do anything else, Hawk squats down and sweeps his leg. With a grunt, his opponent stumbles to the floor.

Something seizes Hawk’s ankles as he stands. He cries out as he’s yanked backward with surprising force, landing on the floor next to Demetri.

Hawk scrambles for the bed, trying to writhe out of Demetri’s grip and hoist himself up by the covers.

It’ll be over when I have the high ground.

What a stupid reference to think about.

It reminds him of the kind of game he and Demetri might have once played. Whoever made it onto the bed would get to be Obi-Wan, and whoever stayed on the floor would have to be Anakin, drowning in lava.

The idea leaves him feeling strange.

Demetri doesn’t let go, snarling like a hyena as he tries to tug Hawk back. The knife teases his skin, an imminent threat if he makes any moves too sudden.

He’d kick the annoying asshole away from him, but he doesn’t want the sole of his foot sliced open. If he can’t walk, he can’t fight.

Suddenly, Demetri cries out, grip loosening. In Hawk’s struggles, he must’ve rammed into a sensitive spot. He yanks himself free, scrambling onto the bed and frantically trying to plan his next move.

He realizes his mistake a half-second too late.

Demetri, gleefully bluffing, rises to his full height. Smirking, he pounces like a jaguar.

He lands heavily on Hawk’s stomach, slamming him against the bed. The back of his head smacks against the headboard, filling his vision with stars.

He barely has time to let out a pained gasp before Demetri’s knees are digging into his quadriceps, pinning him again. Growling, he aims a punch at Demetri’s throat.

His fist meets its target, pulling a strangled gasp. Hawk clasps his arms around Demetri’s torso, trying to thrust him off the bed.

For a moment they struggle, yanking and shoving wildly in an attempt to gain an advantage. Then Hawk feels long arms wrap around his back, bony fingers clutching at his throat.

The tingling pain of blade against skin, and Hawk realizes Demetri kept hold of his knife.

Whenever I think he’s finally going to drop that damned thing…

The knife jabs into him, strengthening its grip until he’s pressed flat on his back. At last Demetri loosens his grip, sizing up his victim with a satisfied beam.

Hawk squirms, bed creaking as he does his best to jostle Demetri off. The other boy holds fast, gazing down at him with a pitying look.

The blade digs in again, and Hawk’s struggles weaken.

“Come now. How many times do we have to go over this?”

“Let. Me. Go.”

“I don’t believe I was finished.”

Demetri tilts his head to the side, breaking into another crazed grin that sends dread trickling straight down to Hawk’s bones.

“Shut up Demetri.”

“I see you staring at me. All this time, and all these girls you tried so hard to fuck, and everything always comes back to your stupid middle school infatuation.”

“SHUT UP!”

Hawk squeezes his eyes shut, trying to bleach Demetri’s cold, smug expression from his mind.

“Right after you had your Bar Mitzvah, you asked me to kiss you. You figured since I already had mine, we were both adults now. And adults do grown-up things like kissing.”

“STOP IT!”

And suddenly Hawk is screaming at the top of his lungs because he knows where this is going. Because they were just stupid kids, and that can’t mean anything.

“I said of course I would, because I’d always liked you, Eli.” Demetri’s voice only grows louder—more insistent. “And I go in to give you a peck, and you grab my arms and stick your entire tongue in my mouth.”

“Shut the fuck up, Demetri!”

He feels something wet dribbling down his face, and wonders if the cut on his cheek got stretched wider in his and Demetri’s scuffle. It’s certainly stinging enough for it.

Unless…

Hawk wishes he could dissolve.

“I told you I’d kiss you a thousand more times if you wanted.” Demetri’s voice has grown sharper than his blade. “And I would have. And for a long while, I thought there might be the most infinitesimal possibility that you felt something, too. Now I know I was right.”

He laughs, the sound acrid and bitter and full of flint.

“Because even after everything, you’re still obsessed with me. You watch me across the lunchroom and pretend you’re ‘monitoring the enemy,’ but I know you miss me. You miss when I made you laugh, and you miss when I talked to people so you didn’t have to. You chase me around in every battle, but when it comes right down to it, you can’t hurt me in any significant way until you’re bullied into it. You pick fights with me so you can put your hands all over my body and not have anyone look at you askance for it.”

“FUCK YOU!”

Maybe if he screams loud enough, Demetri won’t pay too much attention to the wet trails smearing the blood from his cuts.

Caustic breath is hovering inches above Hawk, misting onto his lips. Still, he refuses to open his eyes.

“It must be exhausting, you know,” Demetri whispers. “Living your life in denial like that. Wearing your entire personality like some cheap Halloween costume and convincing yourself that’s a fulfilling existence. Don’t you want to be free?”

“I’m not hiding anything,” Hawk growls. “I do whatever I like. It’s not my fault you don’t like who I really am.”

“Who you really are, hmmm?” Demetri’s lips brush his earlobe, voice a barely-audible murmur. “So tell me the truth then, Eli. Do you still want me?”

The bluntness of the question almost blows a hole in his composure.

“Of course I don’t.”

“Stop fucking lying!”

All at once, Demetri’s voice is a deafening, furious scream again. The knife slices Hawk’s jaw.

Not enough to do any real harm, but enough to really hurt. Hawk freezes, held prisoner by the burst of sharp, sudden pain.

“It’s always lies, lies, lies with you,” Demetri snarls. “Fake name. Fake hair color. Fake personality. Fake interests. Fake friends who only kiss the ground you walk on because they’ve never seen you at your weakest. Fake relationships with girls you barely let know you—to the point you think they’d leave you for liking to code. And the absolute drivel you feed yourself that this goddamn farce is what you want to live in forever. You think you’re starring in some martial arts epic, and you’re so wrapped up in your stupid method acting that you never want to step offscreen. Like everyone’s on the edge of their seat about your pitiful life like it’s the fucking Truman Show. And at the end of the day? You’re still too much of a pussy to tell me the truth.”

Hawk’s skin tingles, shivers rippling through him. If his heart was pounding before, it’s thundering now.

Somehow it doesn’t feel like fear. He’s used to this new version of Demetri enough not to cower from him.

No, it’s something far worse. And Demetri knows it.

“You can’t hide from me.” The other boy’s tone drips with haughtiness, savoring the ability to confirm Hawk’s worst fears. “I see right through your bullshit. I always have. So I’ll ask you one more time. Do you want me?”

The knife slides down to Hawk’s throat again, pressing firmly.

“Lie and I’ll kill you.”

He’s probably bluffing. Maybe. Surely.

Perhaps it doesn’t matter anymore. Sprawled out on his childhood bed, underneath the only other person he frequently shared it with.

The person he used to watch sleep, wondering wistfully if the freak with the lip scar ever made it into his best friend’s dreams.

He opens his eyes and finally meets Demetri’s gaze, in all of its searing, insurmountable beauty.

“Yeah.”

He breathes it out quiet and fragile—a soft promise. A rare moment of openness that he lets free of his unbreakable shell.

Demetri drops the knife. It falls behind the bed, thumping onto the carpet below.

He swoops down, seizing Hawk’s neck and yanking him up. When their mouths meet, Hawk is nearly thrown back with the force of it.

Demetri kisses like a starved animal, lapping and nipping in a crazed frenzy. The weight of his muscle-toned body is crushing, locking Hawk firmly against the mattress.

He tastes like blood and cold steel and cruelty. Hawk shudders.

This time, he’s certain it isn’t fear. It’s a rush he only thought he could get from smashing his fists against plastic or skin, or feeling another person’s body go limp and lifeless underneath his.

And it’s ironic. The more Demetri tries to devour Hawk, the more Hawk wants to let it happen.

There’s an odd satisfaction to it, he thinks. Being completely at someone else’s mercy.

And Demetri isn’t fighting with any.

***

OKAY, time for some #authorrants because I feel like some of the choices I made in this fic are. Controversial, to say the least. Lmao.

So something that has bugged the crap out of me for a while now is people in this fandom acting like there is any world where Demetri would choose Robby over Miguel. I remember after S3 dropped, there was a lot of "dId tHeY fOrGeT tHe dEmEtRi-rObBy FrIeNdShIp" type sentiment floating around irt why Demetri didn't stay in contact with Robby the way Sam and the LaRussos did. Maybe it's because, I don't know, Robby threw the guy Demetri never actually stopped being close friends with over a balcony and almost killed him???

Like. Not that these showrunners don't ever forget things, but this absolutely is not one of them. Robby paralyzing Miguel is a BEYOND valid reason to sever ties with him, especially when you were just casual dojo bros for a couple months tops. When push came to shove, Demetri pretty unequivocally CHOSE MIGUEL. He brought him a comic book in the hospital! He was thrilled to see him back at school and picked up their friendship right where it left off! He DOES NOT VISIBLY FORGIVE ROBBY UNTIL MIGUEL DOES! Idk idk it just really riles me when people do not take Demetri and Miguel's friendship into account when discussing the Demetri-Robby relationship and why they stopped being friends when they did. Tbh I don't think it's that hot of a take to assume Demetri would have more loyalty to the guy who befriended him when he was a nobody and proceeded to be one of his closest ride-or-die friends for a whole-ass year over the guy he was casual buds with because they happened to share a karate instructor -_____- I could go on about this for several more paragraphs, but that's a rant for another day.

(As far as the LaRussos go, they were all closer to Robby and were basically his adoptive family, which is why they--particularly Sam--were willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and say the Miguel thing was an accident. Demetri didn't know Robby well enough to make that call, and had no actual proof it WAS an accident except for maybe Sam's word.)

Some other things to ramble about:

I remember in some interview a while back (I think with Martin Kove?) someone asked about Hawk and Marty or whoever was being interviewed said he was "on his way to being a serial killer" or smth. And Jacob's talked a little bit about the kind of escalating delinquent shit Hawk would get up to if he was never redeemed, etc. So going with that: Bold of y'all to assume the kid simping for Hawk since episode 1 wouldn't renounce his morals and join him on the path to villainy. Sorry but I truly believe Demetri's horniness for Hawk can and would win out over any ethical qualms in the end. Also Demetri is horny for violence and evil this is canon otherwise he would in fact not have simped for S3 Hawk so PAINFULLY BADLY god bless

Also this was partly inspired by those post-S3 jokes that were like "lol what happened to Brucks??? Did Hawk kill him???"...well, what if he did, tho? O_____O

Disclaimer that I promise I do not endorse the Tory slut-shaming!!! Tbh I didn't really wanna write it, but...I think given the circumstances, Hawk WOULD be pretty furious at her for getting chummy with Robby and "betraying" Miguel. And unfortunately, since he's a teenage boy with (canonical!) misogynistic tendencies...I do think that would most likely come across as slut-shaming D: But y'all have brains y'all know I don't condone everything I write about aknhdksuyhf (Murder is probably not something you should try at home either btw)

Hopefully I didn't make Hawk too weaksauce in this ^^; My excuses are a) I suck at writing fight scenes and tend to just want to get to the psychosexual dialogue and knife-teasing, so. If I rushed anything to get there I apologize. b) Going by the school fight, Hawk is indeed thrown off when Demetri takes the offensive (especially in a super dramatic kind of way) and his confused pause is in fact enough time for Demetri to get an advantage and c) The man is thrown off his game!!! Thrown off his groove, even!!! His sissy pussy nerd ex-friend shows up acting like a disturbed maniac and he is so O_____o about it that his moves are off!!! He's sucking a little but it's not his fault 💔It's Demetri's for subverting expectations 💔

I also feel like if Demetri started McFucking Losing It and was generally less grounded in the physical and rational world, physical pain wouldn't register quite as much. Like he's in his head enough now that he's kinda lost his grip on reality and things happening in the physical world don't seem as relevant or immediate, if that makes any sense? Also idk. Maybe after the arm break his pain tolerance just went up :O Anyways that's why he recovers pretty fast when Hawk DOES land a hit. Demetri is nuts now 💙

I will die on my hill that Demetri like. Really REALLY isn't as morally upstanding as people like to think XD Like I say this with love but from the top he's been a self-interested little shit who just happens to be extremely loyal to the very small handful of people he actually likes. My dudes, he didn't join Miyagi Do because he liked their philosophy better--he joined because they were less on board with punching him in particular in the face XD This dude saw Cobra Kai being fucks and playing dirty at the AVT and he STILL up and says "I wanna come back because I like the 'safety in numbers' aspect of joining a gang" XD I always got the vibe the "well at least I'm not an asshole LIKE YOU" he throws at Eli later is more because he likes to feel self-righteous. I say all of this as his biggest fan btw. I think more people should embrace the self-interested king he is and write about him and Eli being absolute dicks together instead of to each other 💖

I guess that's what I'm here for!!!

Anyways I think Demetri and Eli have the same potential to be absolutely horrific people, and I think we're all very lucky that Demetri was too lazy to challenge his comfort zone and stick with Cobra Kai XD We're very fortunate he happened to end up using his speed and his brains to help his friends who happened to be on the Good Guy Side rather than his friends who happened to be on the Bad Guy Side.

I also think people put WAY too much stock in Demetri's ability to staunchly stick with the good guys and have enough of a moral backbone to just keep opposing Eli's douchebaggery indefinitely. My mans is NOT that much of a saint, trust. From how quickly he forgave Eli for a HUGE number of atrocities, he seemed to be like. Waiting on his ass for Eli to come back to him. And if Eli never did???

I mean. Bruh. Someone you've been deeply in love with for years throws you out like last night's trash and just progressively starts being more and more awful to you??? You think it's feasible for my boy Demetri to stay strong and sane and reasonable forever, and just keep on fighting the good fight??? HELL NO. This dude is either a) quitting karate and moving schools so he doesn't have to deal with constantly being pummeled by the dude he's in love with or b) going completely fucking insane from the cognitive dissonance of being in love with a dude who constantly beats his ass.

Listen. I have been in love. If my friend who I was in love with turned evil and joined an evil karate school and started wailing on me all the time, I would either pull an Aisha and haul ass out of there or I would simply lose my mind and become evil. Go full Jinx from Arcane. Sorry if you're a hater who doesn't think Demetri Alexopoulos has it in him to go apeshit, but you're wrong and also boring. The funny kooky comic relief guys are always one thread away from losing their shit because everyone assumes because they're funny and kooky they have no depth and no end to their bullshit tolerance. I would know because I am one of these Guys in real life. Put some respecc on my boy's name and also give him another knife 🔪

For anyone looking at me askance like "Demetri doesn't have it in him to kill!" Yes he does. I'm sending him over to your house to stab you right now 🩵

No fr tho, like there was MURDER in this man's eyes when Kyler was bullying Eli in the library. There was MURDER in this man's eyes fighting Robby at the AVT in S4. I have full confidence that if he could get away with stabbing his enemies, he would. So would Eli but I feel like this is a less contested opinion.

Also this is interesting so it's something I might go into detail about in another post, but one thing I noticed while kinda brainstorming how Demetri would snap is that Demetri is loyal to people, while Eli is loyal to concepts and ideas.

Demetri I don't think is actually that married to or slavish about MD principles tbh. Demetri isn't really averse to violence conceptually (even back in S1 it's only ever about him disliking BEING hit, not disliking hitting people!!) and doesn't actually do the defense-only thing that often. Several times we see him instigate with Hawk, or help Sam instigate with CK in general. The times we see him stick his neck out to really help Miyagi Do, he seems like he's doing so more out of loyalty to his friends (namely Sam, Chris, and Nate--also Miguel irt the dojo team-up at the end of S3) than loyalty to Miyagi Do as a dojo.

Eli, meanwhile, is way more loyal to concepts he puts a lot of stock in than the people in his life who challenge this. He sees Cobra Kai as this almighty saving grace that is for LIFE, and he doesn't think twice about ditching Demetri and Miguel when they turn their backs on it. He stays in this dojo even as his friends leave and it fills up with people he hates, and his sensei dismisses and ignores his concerns. Because this dojo saved him from his horrible, bullied life, and now he feels like he owes everything to the Cobra Kai name, despite who's actually behind the name. Also why I think Demetri uses "my karate dojo needs your help!" as the selling point to get Eli to join MD in S4. HIS motivation is probably much more that he just wants him and Eli to stay together, but he knows Eli values dojo loyalty above everything, so Dem kinda makes it more about that than friendship.

Anyways! That's all for now! The whole fic should be up on my AO3 sometime in December :3

[izvmimi]

candy corn, skittles, and snickers for mimidoriya, mimista, and tanjimimi

m&ms, twix, and almond joy for mimirou and tsumimi

and all of the above for lumimi

man fine okay fajsdlkfja;lsdjfka;s

this is so long but:

candy corn:

mimidoriya - tbh i need to call him itzuku more often thanks for reminding me, and he calls me 'puppy' which is a terrible running joke as you definitely know

mimista - he calls me 'wizard queen' but also 'angel' and ofc i call him my widdle gigachad yes i say that to his face

tanjimimi - tbh he's more traditional and says 'love' and 'sweetheart', i don't use one for him aside from 'baby' which is actually a little odd to him given the time period but he allows

skittles:

mimidoriya - think of me as a bull seeing red but with affection when i see green

mimista - tbh green too but also gold

tanjimimi - different shades of red like fall leaves and auburn and a hot iron over a flame

snickers:

tbh none of these are that funny but:

mimidoriya - he snores and i send him new videos of him doing it at random times of the day

mimista - he's always like you only want me for my status and i'm like where, you don't even have stature

tanjimimi - i always remind him that he's the only person on earth whose sense of smell isn't coupled to his taste buds cuz he likes bland food and he says he's just evolved

m&m's:

mimirou: barou looks like he does up front but it's actually me; my shell is just friendlier so it's harder to see that i have one

tsumimi: tsukasa but that's cuz he's baby inside

twix:

mimirou: tbh we don't really complement each other we augment each other's terrible qualities that's why we're toxic, but i do make him fly off the handle less often and be a little nicer and he helps me defend myself more (or does it for me). also gasses me up because he's the king so clearly i am the queen.

tsumimi: i remind him he doesn't have to be strong all the time and he can let other people care for him and feel all those negative feelings without crumbling, and he reminds me that i'm stronger and smarter than i believe i am, and also keeps me safe

almond joy:

mimirou: i like bragging about him as often as possible in public and he likes that shit unfortunately and tries to do it too but it's embarrassing when he does it

tsumimi: always brings me little gifts every day to remind me he's thinking of me all the time. he's also into cheesy poetry

i cannot believe i have a luffy section:

candy corn: i'm calling him lulu lemon and he can't stop me and he also doesn't know what i'm talking about. when he used to look for me at the hospital when we first met he used to call me 'the pretty doctor' to other people although he doesn't use nicknames that much when we start dating

skittles: tbh golden yellow which is funny because i don't even like the color yellow but i think it fits for him, given the straw hat and the joy, and the spice and the pirate searching for gold and everything yk

snickers: when i pull a steaming hot kebab out of my forehead randomly during a pause on the ship or when i want him to shut up it never ceases to entertain and delight him, it's like a pacifier

m&m's: i think luffy has a tougher outer shell tbqh he's a little harder to crack i would say not so much because he's trying to but because he makes it a little hard for you to even know to dig deeper

twix: so i saw this thing about infj (me) and esfp (him) and it said it's the union of empathy and joy and like idk if that type is truly his type but i would say for us that's the best description. i would like to think i curb his selfishness when it starts to get detrimental (even though it's rare) and he curbs my insistence on overextending myself when it starts to take away from my happiness. he's also a lot bolder where i am more careful and less of an overthinker while i am more conscientious and we strike a balance

almond joy: i think luffy is honestly easily placated by just me being willing to spend time with him and i think he is always asking me a lot of questions big and small which makes me feel important to him

[rb19]

It was almost as if Max Verstappen had been awoken from the trance of his season as he dealt with the reaction to what transpired over his radio on the last lap in Brazil. The cowardly moronic elements at the toxic fringes of social media had made death threats to him, his family and to the other participant in this drama, Sergio Perez. 

But even the less extreme angry reactions are from a place not understanding the distinction between a competitor and the person in which the competitor resides. There is a bubble in which a competitor seals themselves off from the everyday world, especially in something as solitary and extreme as racing an F1 car.

That’s the place where they perform and going in there becomes a routine. The outer world is cut off, silenced and the entire focus is on delivering performance. At Red Bull in particular, but all teams to an extent, the lead driver is made to feel supported by all around him, made to feel like this is his racing family and that everyone is there to be focused on him.

The team reality is that this is a big organisation with hundreds of people working to produce that car and to go racing with it. But that isn’t a feeling any driver wants to take with them into the car. These are intense competitors and the cars are simply the instruments through which they compete.

Occasionally the two worlds collide, as we saw at Alpine in Brazil’s sprint race the day before the Verstappen controversy. Fernando Alonso and Esteban Ocon’s two bouts of contact on the opening lap which ruined the races of both led to team boss Laurent Rossi to tell them that if they had been any other employees but drivers, prioritising themselves over the team would have resulted in instant dismissal for gross misconduct. But they are drivers, with a rare skill set upon which the team relies. They are employees only in the formal sense, not the visceral. They are hired gun mercenaries grudgingly obliged to be part of a team. That used to be at the very core of the appeal of racing, that rebellion against the mediocrity of the everyday.

But once it’s all over, they are out of the combat zone and have decompressed, they’re not that fierce. They are a pretty damn cool bunch of people on the whole. Recall the contrast between Red Bull era Sebastian Vettel, his refusal to comply to Multi 21 or to apologise for it, the victory ‘number 1’ finger etc, the contrast between that guy and the smiling, funny, caring Vettel underneath? Some of the other drivers referred to it yesterday when asked of their thoughts about his retirement.

[...]

Talk to those around Verstappen and they will tell you that for all his assassin character in the car, his dominant personal trait away from racing is as a peacekeeper, who always wants to make things right for those around him. There isn’t really a ‘side’ to him, no cynical, calculated strategy there, but his racing persona, very much formed and honed by father Jos Verstappen – a man whose ferocity in the car extends to the outside world much more than with Max – is zero compromise and binary. So when asked in Mexico if he’d be prepared to help Perez to a home victory in his chase of second in the championship his answer – probably based on events in Monaco qualifying, which played a crucial part in Perez defeating Verstappen to win the race – was a firm ‘no’ and in his usual straightforward, open way he explained why.

Hence when, a race later, he was asked to help the same cause with a lap to go, he was surprised to hear the question, as he’d already responded to the same request in Mexico, with reasons. His way of communicating that over the radio wasn’t gracious and he’d probably have made things a lot easier for himself if he’d just either stayed silent or said, ‘Let’s discuss it later’. But he gave his response from the perspective of his in-car self, and that of an indulged provider of performance by a team which specialises in cossetting its number one to maximise that performance.

When the intensity of the cockpit meets the outside world in the era where social media makes the uninformed not realise it’s uninformed and that because it’s seen something believes it understands it, this is the fall-out.

Motor Sport Magazine, Mark Hughes

[kitchenaidmixer02]

@tomatosoupandpasta you wanted to know how I angsted her :33

She is in incredibly closed off person. She does not share feelings. She puts on either a blunt(?), more carefree and cool persona with those closest to her, or a more polite one with people she knows less (sort of like mafuyu but not as intense. She knows what shes feeling, she just refuses to talk about it)

She never really had close friendships until she met fire point. Her mom would always say “don’t talk about this to anyone, it’s a family thing” and that ended up extending to her feelings

She especially hates showing sadness. She never really got any comfort from her mother when she was sad other than “stop crying” and she’d hide it from her father because she didn’t want a fight to break out

Whoopsie doodles looks like someones bottling her emotions ahah! Yeah its masako.

Singing means so so incredibly much to her, obviously because she’s clinging onto the belief that it can stop her parents fighting

Fire point is EVERYTHING to her. Shes never had people she feels so comfortable with, people she can laugh with, etc

Shes very torn about how she feels regarding college because a) away from her parents yippee yahoo break out of that toxic household bitch but b) she’ll be away from the band

She can be very self destructive at times. Thats one of her flaws. She’ll get frustrated with herself and get all up in her head “they still fight you’re not good enough you’re falling behind you’re not getting BETTER”

Shes probably accidentally burned herself because she’ll be flicking her lighter when she does get like this and not be paying attention and then yeeeowch!!!

This is always accidental though she doesn’t do it on purpose nor does she actively try to make it happen

She does not self harm guys I swear

She can also be silly. This is either genuine silliness or she’s distracting herself from how horrible she may feel at the moment

Like it’s either “haha purple spaghetti” or “my life is in shambles it’s time to mix red bull with four shots of espresso”

[slaasherslut]

BILLY LENZ SFW ALPHABET

special thanks to the lovely @rottent33th for helping me out with some of these. thanks bestie youre a gem 🖤

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Billy is extremely affectionate! He loves nothing more than to be curled up with you and never let go. He is about as clingy as it gets. He’ll always have his hand in yours or holding you by the waist. Mornings are usually where he's at his most affectionate. Mornings are spent in each other's embrace, holding onto each other and exchanging sweet kisses. Billy always whines like a baby when you end up having to get out of bed and it's absolutely adorable.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Billy has a hard time reading the room sometimes so you would have to be extremely clear that you fully intend on being just a friend, nothing more nothing less. Regardless he will be handsy as hell. Hes one of those "wheres my hug?" guys, without a doubt. If you met him in uni or college he would be the guy who shows up late to an 7am lecture and eats his breakfast which consists of a bag of hot cheetos and a red bull. You would definitely be friends with him after working on an assignment together. He would bring extra snacks for you or a caffeinated drink of your choosing.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Billy loves cuddles!! His favourite cuddling position is when he lays on top of you and nuzzles his head into your chest or neck. His arms will go around your torso and he'll give you little squeezes every once in a while to let you know hes happy. If you have boobs than his face will constantly be shoved in between them. To him it doesn't matter the size, he sees boobs and hes squealing to be in between them. He just melts right into you if you play with his hair too. You could have swore you had a cat on your chest with the sounds hes making, sweet little purring sounds while you run your fingers through his floppy hair. He adores it. He could just fall asleep like that, and many times he has.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Billy could never be upfront with how he feels about settling down but the security with you that would provide would be something he wants more than anything. He would love to be able to know you want him for the long run and settling down with him would prove that. In terms of household chores? Oh wow don't expect much, this guy is a real mess. He never cleans, never, he just cant. Things always end up worse than when they started. Making a bigger mess or breaking something. When it comes to cooking though he loves to help in the kitchen even if he is a total klutz and messy. He has the sweetest of intentions but its not uncommon for food to be all over the cabinets and the wall afterwards.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

A break up with Billy would never go well. If Billy is making the choice to leave you that means you fucked up BIG TIME. It would be the most messy break up you'd ever experience, not to mention the most toxic. I can imagine him constantly texting and calling you and maybe even stalking you, he would just make your life a living hell until he attaches himself to someone new.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Billy is committed to you the moment you guys become an item. He loves you so much and is so sure of his feelings he would marry you in a heartbeat if you asked. From the moment he met you he knew that he was yours and you were his, it was immediate. He makes sure to tell you that all the time and regardless of how many times he says it his words still manage to always sweep you of your feet and make your heart race.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He tends to be more on the aggressive side unless it comes to things like cuddling or hugging. Not aggressive in an angry way, hes just not super mindful of his strength or what hes doing. He is just so full of energy all the time and sometimes forgets that his gangling limbs are swinging around.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Billy hugs you every chance he gets, its one of his favourite ways to show his affection for you. Its not uncommon for Billy to wrap his arms around you from behind while doing dishes or in the shower together. He'll just stand their and squeeze you, rocking you back and forth not saying a word. Its Billy at his most quiet and serene. Having you in his arms and being able to feel you so close to him sends his heart into a frenzy, even more so when you give him a squeeze back when you're wrapped around him. The feeling of your bare skin against his is what he craves most.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Billy is definitely the first to say it and he says it very quick. He wastes no time in telling you he loves you when he felt that he loved you even before you got together. I can imagine him saying it during a make out session or the first time you have sex. Something where the passion is at an all time high and hes really relishing in those feelings. I can also imagine he'd say it when you two are just cuddling on the couch. He'd nuzzle into you with a cute little content sigh and say "I love you."

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Billy is the type to get jealous very easily. Something as simple as talking to a classmate would make his blood boil. He hates the idea of someone else taking your attention when he should be the only one receiving it. You always tell him he has nothing to worry about but that wont stop his nerves and overactive imagination. He is definitely the type of man to scare the fuck out of anyone who comes near you who he deems a threat to your relationship.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

If there's something Billy loves more than hugging or cuddling you it would be kissing you. He has to make sure the last thing he does at night and the first thing he does in morning is kiss you. He refuses to let you or him leave the house without a kiss first. He loves kissing your lips of course but he absolutely adores kissing your cheeks or your neck, the giggle you let out makes him so happy. He loves your kisses no matter where they are but if he had to pick one he would say that kissing his lips drives him wild. A kiss on the lips could say more than words. He can tell exactly what you're feeling just by the way you kiss him.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

I think Billy would like children because they can sometimes give off the same kind of wild energy that he does. He wouldn't love being around them all of the time but I think kids would like him and he'd be happy about that.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Mornings with Billy are spent cuddled up under the sheets and just being in each others company. He will not let you go unless it is absolutely necessary because he loves the warmth of your body on him. If you like to scroll through your phone in the morning before getting out of bed he will lay on your chest and scroll with you, reacting to memes, send texts, check emails. If neither of you have nothing to do that day the two of you will spend a few hours in bed just chatting and cuddling.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights spent with Billy are about winding down and spending time together. Whether its curling up on the couch to read a book in his lap or watch some movies together, you're ending the night wrapped up in each others arms. During the day you sometimes don't see much of each other so the nights are always reserved for making up for lost time. There are so many nights when the two of you fall asleep on the couch in the middle of watching a gruesome slasher film together.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

It would take Billy a very long time to open up to you about anything. He has a lot of baggage and hes deathly afraid that if he was open to you about things that you would run for the hills. But once he does open up, you're never leaving his side. You love that man and would stick with him through thick and thin. If you tell him that he would probably cry. He spent so much time worrying about what you might think of him that his mind just ran wild, getting confirmation that you're by his side forever would make his heart soar.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Billy is very easily angered, he has quite the temper. The smallest things could set him off and when he gets like that he could get aggressive. Never at you, and if he does he apologizes profusely. He has a tendency to throw things and put holes in walls when hes angry. If someone else makes him angry he wont hesitate to throw a punch their way.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Billy remembers everything he tells you and more. You say you like a band? Hes playing their records around the house. You tell him your favourite food? He tries his best to cook it for you or order it in. You tell him your favourite colour? He gives you clothes in those colours and incorporates it into his wardrobe. There has also been a few times where hes eavesdropped on your conversations or read your diary to learn more about you. He doesn't mean to! He just wants to get to know his baby better.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The moment you told him you loved him. He said I love you fairly quick in the relationship and you had waited a bit longer. you would often respond to him by saying things like "I know", "You're the greatest", or "thank you Billy." But one night you had said it while in bed with him. You were laid out on his bare chest under the warm blankets, one of his arms around your back and the other in your hair. He said his usually nightly "I love you" while kissing anywhere he could reach. You had hummed under his touch and whispered a soft "I love you too, Billy." He froze for a moment before flipping you two over and laying over you with a huge smile, asking if you meant it. When you told him yes and said it again he squealed before kissing you hard.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Billy is extremely protective over you. He would put himself in harms way to protect you without even a second thought. You're his and there's no way in hell he would let you get hurt physically or mentally. He would die for you, he would kill for you, although he would prefer the latter. Hes not afraid to kill anyone who has wronged you, if were being honest he quite enjoys it. Killing someone for you makes him feel like a powerful man who is worthy of being your partner. The fact that he can protect you fills his chest with so much pride.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

When I say Billy is the king of putting in effort in your relationship, I GODDAMN MEAN IT. This man wants to make you the happiest person in the world and will go to the ends of the earth to do that. He will mark down every important date for him to remember and always plan something big. He loves anniversaries cause that means he gets to celebrate your time together! Thoughtful gifts are the only gifts that he gives you, no half assed gifts here! He listens to your wants and needs very seriously and will do his best to give you everything you need and more.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Hes messy, every aspect of him is messy. His hair is always a wild and fluffy mess, he always leaves clothes all over the floor, and he always looks dishevelled but in the attractive way.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Billy doesn't really care too much about how other people think he looks. He dresses how he wants to dress and as long as he thinks he looks good than he doesn't care. The only time he cares about what others think of his is when its you. He'll ask you for opinions on what he should wear and if you think he looks good, and when you compliment him he gets all smiley and giggley. It makes him so happy!

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

The moment Billy lays eyes on you, he knows you have his entire heart and soul. Hes head over heels in love with you. His entire being revolves around you and he wouldn't know what to do with himself without you by his side. In his heart of hearts he knows he was made for being yours.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Sensory overload is something youve seen from him a few times and he gets overstimulated very easily. There's a lot of fabrics he cant stand touching, so he prefers to buy his own clothes or pick them out himself. Crowds are a big no no for him as well. All of the people around him makes him feel claustrophobic and the noise is deafening. He tends to cover his ears when things get too loud and he cant control it.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Disloyalty, Billy will not stand for that at all. The same goes for lying, he absolutely cant stand it and will probably have a breakdown over it, and his breakdowns are never pretty for anyone.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Billy is a very heavy sleeper. Once hes out there is no waking him up until his internal clock does it for him. No matter what position he falls asleep in (which is usually cuddling you), he wakes up laying on his stomach, one arm draped over you and his other arm and a leg over the side of the bed. Definitely drools in his sleep too. He never has a normal dream, like ever. You'll wake up in the morning and cuddle him, talking about your dreams. You would tell him you dreamt about doing something with him or an interesting sex dream you had and he would just go off about the weirdest fucking scenarios he dreamt up. They never make any sense and change so fast. Definitely drools in his sleep too.

light dividers by rainbowkisses31

message me if you want to be added to my tag list!

☾ notes: were over halfway there! i hope these arent very ooc! XD

☾ tag list: @rottent33th @damien-mlm @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better @the-pinstriped-hood @allthingsblood @25bohemianmoons @essenceproxima

[lewisvinga]

I wasn’t the one who originally talked to this, but guess which Formula one team is now up to twenty-three photos and videos for Carlos and four for Charles?!

Ferrari!

I get they’re happy they won, but they’re milking the win and it makes it less special to me. It’s Tuesday. The win is over and done with. They need to give it a fucking rest. Listen, I hate to be that person because I’m not toxic, but if this is how Ferrari acts, every time they get a win, I hope they don’t win again until Lewis joins.

I’m only saying until he joins because then people won’t say things like cancel his contract or you’re gonna regret giving him up and stuff like that.

We all know it’s not gonna happen again anyway because once Max loses, he makes sure never to lose again. If it wasn’t for the crappy, Mercedes car, Max’s only opponent would be Lewis, but right now, Max’s only opponent is his car.

I don’t know if you remember what happened last year when Checo beat Max. He said it would never happen again and then he went on to win the rest of the year. Other than that one time Carlos won. That’s how I feel like it’s going to be this year. If someone else does win, I hope it’s from any other team, except for Ferrari.

I hate feeling like this, but Ferrari and Red Bull fans think they are on top of the world, and that they are the best teams on the grid and they are unbeatable. Well, Red Bull is, but Ferrari is not.

I sincerely hope that Lando, Oscar, Yuki, and Logan gets their first wins, or even podium in Yuki and Logan’s case!

I’m sorry if I seem toxic, but Ferrari admin just shared yet another compilation of videos and photos of the same exact goddamn thing as they had the other 22 times, but from different angles.

I now know what that other anon meant but it’s getting annoying.

Sorry for ranting. You’re probably sick and tired of people coming to complain about other teams

But a quick question. How the fuck did the Mercedes car get worse than last year’s?

still posting on tuesday is a bit much, like the hype already passed 😭

i just rlly hope lewis wins w ferrariiiii, merc has been doing him dirty asf and he deserves that 104th😫

yeah for sure if lewis had an equal car to red bull then there’d be more competition esp between him and max, it’s a shame merc keeps getting worse n worse 😭😭

i don’t mind carlos winning tbh it’s just the fans who make me annoyed asf with their ‘ferrari made a big mistake’ ‘ferrari is gonna regret it’ comments 💀 like PLEASE lewis is a 7x wdc of course he’s gonna be picked over a 3x race winner

i just rlly want logan points 😞😞 and yuki podium would be so💗💗

i thought last year was the end of mercedes shit show IDEK HOW KTS WORSE NOW

[bohnsky]

My favorite drivers 2 months and 3 weeks into liking F1:

1. Alex Albon

Nothing changed here. Albono is probably the love of my life. I even had a dream about him in which I was more or less friends with him and had the biggest crush on him. He just seems like such a nice, fun and genuine guy and I would give (almost) everything I own to be friends with him.

The weekend wasn't optimal for Williams, but it wasn't the worst and as long as Alex is fine, I'm happy.

Also I finally started to appreciate Lily the way she deserves. I know it's toxic af, but I always find myself having problems with the wags just because of pure jealousy, especially when it comes to people like Alex (I just love him so much). But I try my best not to. I've always liked Lily as a person and now I finally also like her as Albono's wag. She seems to be good to him and they both deserve to be happy.

2. Sergio Perez

Yes he's still up here, I'm still obsessed. And I'm still sad that there seem to be very few people who don't constantly make fun of him. Bless everyone who is nice to him.

I am soooo insanely happy that both quali and race went well for him for once. But the sprint race sucked. And for some reason my brother felt the need to make fun of him for DNFing. Like he didn't even watch it, he has no idea what happened, but felt the need to rub that in my face. But I guess that's what a brother is there for.

I've been reading tons of Chestappen fics lately. I'm really sad that I got into f1 too late and missed their honeymoon phase. I joined after the divorce. Which is probably for the better, because it would've hurt too much seeing the divorce in real time.

Seeing them on the podium together was greath tho :)

I just wish they would hug :(

3. Charles Leclerc

Charles on Pole and P3 in the race!!!! I was so happy for him!! P1 or 2 would've been better of course, but there is no stopping Red Bull so it's basically a win and I love that for him.

Also is it just me or is it super awkward when the Red Bulls are basically ignoring Charles when spraying Champagne on the podium? He deserves some attention as well😭😭

Honerable mentions:

Sophia Flörsch. She's not in F1 but F3, but I just need to mention her. The first woman to score points, I'm so proud of her😭😭

And damn what a race starting from P24 to P7. She deserves way more attention than she's getting, so please take this as your sign to go support Sophia!

Max. As always, his hair. And him in civil clothing is going to kill me someday. It's not like I'm seeking Max content (except for Chestappen or Lestappen stuff), but when I see it I usually like it. His smile is the sweetest and the hug he shared with Christian after the race made me melt.

And I feel like I need to say again that even if I don't like this total domination that's going on, Max totally deserves it. He just is that good.

Lance. I need simply need more Lance content, preferably Strollonso content, thank you very much. Lance just seems like a sweetheart to me. I usually don't like giving celebs, or people I don't personally know pet names, but Lance is such a baby girl, the princess of kitty town.

Saturday drove me crazy. I felt so bad for Lance crashing because he changed to slicks and basically destroying not only his and Fernandos chance of getting into Q3, but also the Williams. He must've felt so bad. I know I would've.

But hey, we got stroints.

Esteban. It's the same with Charles and Pierre. I started liking Pierre mainly because he's close to Charles and now I start paying more attention to Esteban. And he's a really good driver. I love that for him.

Fernando. My mom, who doesn't know anything about f1 or the drivers, randomly said that she likes Fernando the most. When I asked why she said because of the f1 intro. She thinks he looks likable and I think that's funny.

Also big F for him, I hope he got to enjoy his birthday despite all the shit that was going down in Aston that day.

Pierre. I was so happy for him! It was "only" a sprint race, but podium is podium.

Also I've been reading many Yukierre fics lately for some reason.

Yuki. Like I said, I've been reading a lot of Yukierre. But also, Yuki got points :D

And my brother said something against Yuki, which made me mad (he likes to dislike the things I like, honsetly I'm just glad he doesn't shit on Alex)

Carlos. The team really made him drive half the race with a broken car. It sucks so bad, I just want my vroom vroom boys to be happy :(

Also Carlando are just so cute, I can't with them.

Oscar. Same as Carlos. Oscar just had such a good weekend and then he has to retire after the first turn. That was really sad!

So that's it for now, hope everyone gets to relax a bit during summer break :)