#ryu writes

[ryuinthepaddock]

🏁 MASTERLIST

━━━━━━━ ★ ━━━━━━━

welcome to my corner of the paddock ツ

find your mood below. every story here carries a different heartbeat, and this guide is here to lead you to the one you need right now:

the guide:

♥ — soft whispers and gentle touches. for when it involves fluff, soft vibes, and pure sweetness.

♢ — the heavy silence between two people who know too much. this covers tension, chemistry, and the undefined. (i love this).

✷ — heat, provocation, and the kind of tension you can't ignore. well... let's just say this is where i explore intensity, blatant flirting, and the bold energy i love.

☘ — a safe place to land when everything else hurts. feels like home. purely for hurt/comfort, care, and healing.

♠ — falling in love, out loud and without apologies. romance, declarations, and established love. basically everything we dream about.

✪ — the stories that hold a special place in this blog. just my personal faves and highlights. i feel something special for these ones.

♪ — where the lyrics meet the page. the song series, basicaly.

DRIVERS:

★ #𝙻𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘 𝙽𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚜 / 𝟷

♥ ♠ ✪ nothing left to hide ▹ Lando Norris vs. three overprotective Leclerc.

♥ holding the sun ▹ loud love isn’t always the one you hear.

━━━━━━━━━★

★ #𝙼𝚊𝚡 𝚅𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗 / 𝟹

☘ ✪ safe place ▹ you don’t have to be okay here.

✷ ♪ often ▹ you ask if it's always like this. he couldn't answer anything else.

━━━━━━━━━★

★ #𝙸𝚜𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝙷𝚊𝚍𝚓𝚊𝚛 / 𝟼

♢ crash into me ▹ being a Rosberg means never backing down — especially against Isack Hadjar, the rival determined to beat you.

━━━━━━━━━★

★ #𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝙻𝚎𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚛𝚌 / 𝟷𝟼

♠ golden promise ▹ he doesn’t let go of your hand this time.

♥ ☘ ✪ flashforward ▹ a few hours, two children, and a silence that changes everything.

♥ don't ever let go ▹ one (very) drunk ferrari driver. good luck.

♥ terms and conditions apply ▹ “he attacked my son” vs “he was provoked” — a love story.

━━━━━━━━━★

★ #𝙰𝚕𝚎𝚡 𝙰𝚕𝚋𝚘𝚗 / 𝟸𝟹

♥ are you still there? ▹ calls that stretch through the small hours — until the silence gets too loud.

♥ ♠ burden of proof (rust? pt.2) ▹ the practical guide to turning your life into a 300k-word fanfic: 1. ignore the evidence; 2. focus on your statute books; 3. block an F1 driver on every possible social media platform.

━━━━━━━━━★

★ #𝙻𝚎𝚠𝚒𝚜 𝙷𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚝𝚘𝚗 / 𝟺𝟺

♥ ☘ ✪ where you still exist ▹ where absence meets something that still feels warm.

♥ ♠ captioned: wife ▹ so that’s how they find out.

━━━━━━━━━★

★ #𝙲𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚘𝚜 𝚂𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚣 / 𝟻𝟻

♢ off the record ▹ he knows what he’s doing. you know it too.

♥ ✪ don't worry, i'm taken ▹ you’re very drunk, very suspicious, and absolutely convinced you have a boyfriend. unfortunately for Carlos, he is the boyfriend.

♥ don't worry, i remember (dwit pt.2) ▹ you wake up with a headache, no memories, and carlos sainz in your kitchen. unfortunately for you, he remembers everything.

━━━━━━━━━★

★ #𝙶𝚎𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎 𝚁𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚕 / 𝟼𝟹

✷ crossing the line ▹ you don’t notice it at first. he does.

✷ ♥ ✪ only us ▹ two weeks off, a heated pool, a sleepless night. you were supposed to rest. well… we can say that this was the last thing you did.

☘ ♪ bad liar ▹ more of a confession than a story — about breaking, pretending, and finally being seen.

♥ ☘ ✪ the champion (you already know) ▹ the world keeps questioning George Russell. you never do.

━━━━━━━━━★

★ #𝙾𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝙱𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚗 / 𝟾𝟽

♥ ✪ not like before ▹ you thought it was normal. it wasn’t.

♥ operation cupid (gone right) ▹ rookies, bad plans and a very obvious crush.

━━━━━━━━━★

★ 𝙳𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚎𝚕 𝚁𝚒𝚌𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚘 / 𝟹

☘ ✪ worth it ▹ healing takes time. you don’t mind giving it.

note: just a little note to finish: as this space grows, i’ll probably rearrange things to make it easier to navigate, but for now, this is our little corner. from now on, all my work will live exclusively on this masterlist. i hope you find a story here that feels like home! thank you for the company and for taking the time to read. it truly means the world. also, just a reminder that my requests are open! feel free to drop anything in my ask box. whatever is on your mind, i’d love to write it. see ya~

☆

[ryuichifoxe]

I don't drabble often but my internet keeps cutting out, so have some SteelStep??? ----

It's not as if there was ever a time where Emery wasn't angry at the world. Even before the Heartbreak Incident, the barbs he covered himself in to keep others at a distance were always at the ready. No hesitation to lash out if someone crossed an invisible line in the sand.

But you'd be lying if you said it was the same.

While you didn't always get along, Emery let a lot of his anger go the more time he spent with the Rangers. Ortega specifically, as much as their budding relationship hurt to watch from the sidelines.

He let loose, smiled more.

Where he was never sure how to take your gruff suspicion and often bristled in the beginning, Emery learned to let it roll off his back. Disarm you with a grin far too much like Ricardo's and a “I'll get right on that, big guy.”

Now...

Now there's glass embedded in the thorns and he wields those shards of windowpane as if they were knives.

There's more venom in the words he spits in your face when you prod at the open wounds he pretends to have stitched. But you both see the fraying threads threatening to come undone.

Sometimes he apologizes. Sometimes you do.

It's in those moments where you catch a glimpse of the man you watched struggle to grow into his own all those years ago, reflected in the broken fragments he holds impossibly tight to his chest.

Marshal Steel suspects Emery of being Heartbreak. There's an inevitability written in the future and he accepts it.

Then Emery smiles, tired but genuine. You're not actually sure he intended to let it slip and that upends your world in one, swift motion.

"Oh shut up, Wei."

Steel has a responsibility to the city.

You're not Steel here, not right now.

And all you want is to pry open Emery's hands and remove the glass so that he stops cutting himself. You want to protect him from his enemies and from himself.

[the-ryuchan]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Four years before the recall Hanzo met Jesse but they didn't know just exactly who each other were. shrouded in fake names and alcohol they spent one night together that stuck with them both despite parting. Now four years later the agents of Overwatch have come together and Hanzo has joined their ranks as a means to atone for what he did to Genji. However, despite learning to live his life more freely he still cannot forgive himself and when a certain Cowboy comes back to Overwatch and identities are revealed he struggles to keep their relationship professional. He fails.

Reposting another link to get this out there because chapter 2 is probably going up tonight. The writing bug hit me and I’m about 2/3 through chapter 3 which will in theory be up Sunday unless I get through another chapter tonight. Which means chapter 3 will be Friday or Saturday and chapter 4 will be up for the Sunday update.

So bonus chapter tonight guys. For those just starting I hope you enjoy this and just know the wait won’t be long for another chapter.

Will Update Every Sunday for sure

Surprise updates throughout the week may also occur if the writing bug hits me hard (Which it did this week)

[ryuichifoxe]

Shit. What the hell.

Who the heck is this lunatic, who follows a stanger into the gutter?! Anyone sane would have called the police. Should’ve known, the tracker was a warning not a challange. Oh well the sewer system under the city is like a labyrinth, he will either turn back after a while or wander into his death.

Taking the advantages of the home turf, he can focus on hiding in the shadows, taking care not to make any noise as he continues to head back home. Luckily they don’t have visual on each other yet, and from the sound of the cursing the mechanic is still at the main entrance.

As much as I don’t like to pry I will have to keep a tab on him.

But as he extends his consciousness, and something actually reaches back for once, as if searching for him, he has to stop in his tracks. Sheer panic settles heavily in his stomach, cold sweat immediately drenching his back, a metal right hand landing on his mouth to stiffle a surprised noise escaping.

Quickly, I need to shut this down. But it is too late, he must have felt it too, the strange recognition in each other instead of the expected.

Paniced thoughts start to rush around in his head as he raises the mental walls, trying to shield himself of any intrusion, listening closely.

Was I fast enough? What do I do, who the hell is this, he was just a mechanic! What now?!

[Thank you for extending the character limit <3] -✘

There.

He shifts, facing the direction where his consciousness brushed against another.

Contact. Brief, almost reaching, familiar, dangerous, and then it's ripped away. The recoil is immediate; physical and mental. As if he'd placed his hand directly on a hot burner. It takes a considerable amount of effort to force his shields back in place, the panic overriding his anger bleeding through the cracks until the last piece seals shut.

Idiot! Couldn't leave well enough alone, could you? You should've relocated when this started, instead of thinking you had any advantage. Didn't want to leave. Let yourself get too comfortable, feel too human. Arrogant. Run. Get out.

Stumbling, Emery keeps his eyes trained forward and grabs for the rungs he know lead topside. A tentative step, waiting to hear anything, and then he's moving. Up.

Telepath in the sewer. A telepath--Farm? No. They wouldn't show their hand, not like this. Taunting isn't their style. He would've already been dragged off if this were the directive. It should settle his nerves but the nausea won't subside.

Still, Emery hesitates at the top of the ladder and glances back to where he last sensed the thief.

“I know you're still there.” It's an assumption, one he's not willing to test by mentally reaching out again. Safe bet though, since he hadn't heard any movement after the contact.

Are they just as unnerved?

Em steadies himself by pulling at the anger from earlier, letting it harden his voice. There's an edge he can't quite shake. “You want something, you come in through the front like the rest, got it? Steal my shit again and I will find you.” Quieter. “And don't think you're safe because you're in the sewer.”

Was it a threat? A strange olive branch? Both. Neither? He's not sure. With any luck, neither will they and this problem will resolve itself with them fucking off forever.

Emery hoists himself out but pauses when reaching for the cover. It's his eyes making shapes out of shadows, has to be. He bites his lip and, like many of his choices tonight, stupidly leaves it open. Their little rat game is up anyway. Telepathy's out of the bag too. For both of them. That has the nausea rearing it's head again, so he takes one last look, pulls his shields tighter, and finally breaks for the open window to his shop.

He needs to walk, shake this off. Grab something sweet and bottle of schnapps.

[ryuichifoxe]

It doesn't take long and eventually the surveillance cameras pick up on a rat that's maybe a little too interested in the package that's been conveniently left out at the back door. They try to tug on it, but when it proves much too big for them they simply start to chew a hole into it. Not soon after they scurry out, bringing the little gadget in their mouth to a sewer entrance which they disappear into. After a while the cover lifts and a hooded person emerges from it. [continued] -✘

Em can’t make out their gender or much details only the dark stained clothes they wear, and the glint of metal fingers as they grip the hole cover. They seem to look around for a few seconds and after finding the camera they actually pull down the scarf that’s been covering the lower half of their face and fully smirk right to Emery’s face and mouth into the camera- „So you finally noticed huh?” They leave the fake gadget on the pavement and disappear into the sewer. -✘

Well, it's not a teenager. The rat is a surprise and, truth be told, fascinating to watch. Tenacious too. Trained? Considering their intelligence, not beyond the realm of possibility. Still...odd.

Emery sets the tablet connected to the security feed on the table next to where he's sat and runs both hands through his hair out of frustration.

It's one thing to follow a human mind through the sewers, another entirely to try and keep hold of a single rodent thread tangling with numerous others roaming the same area. A person is easy, their thoughts clear. And while not impossible to track a rat, it's certainly tricky and not worth the strain it would take on his telepathy. As much as he hated letting this little game drag on for another week, Emery resigned himself to walking away from this night mostly empty handed.

Looks like the next decoy needs to include a tracker…

With a grunt, he pushes himself up from his crouched position, just below an open window to the back alley, and pads over to his personal workbench. The shiny, new replacement parts (he had to order several times before buying them in person) are pushed to the side, giving him plenty of space to brainstorm. Tablet now forgotten in favor of crafting a new plan.

Until new movement triggers the cameras and the alert pulls him away to investigate. He expects another rat, perhaps one of the stray cats or raccoons he occasionally pulls from the dumpster. It's not though. It's a person and for whatever reason his blood runs cold. For all of five seconds because the smirk has him seeing red.

The little shit knew. Knew and--what? Wanted to get caught? Didn't care? Expected better?

Now, a calmer man would've stayed put or calculated the risks. He did. Sort of. In the breath it took to pocket a taser, vault out the window, muscle the manhole cover back open, and drop into the abyss below.

Emery puts out telepathic feelers before his feet make contact with the ground and keeps low, letting his mind and ears do the work his eyes cannot. Weak soldiers don't survive The Farm and he hasn't survived this long just to die in the sewers. Or lose his tech to some gutter bandit with an attitude.

[ryuichifoxe]

He sceptically raises one of his eyebrows at Emery's first sentence, but doesn't interrupt, just lets him work through his emotions and paintently waits for the verdict. He appreciates Em not pushing about his motives or what he gets out of coming here.

It would be fucking embarrassing to admit that you are so fucking lonely you are willing to risk everything for just company's sake. How do you break this to someone without losing face anyway? That you are so far removed from society, you can no longer connect with people truly. That you crave the closeness but feel like a false, broken thing immediately once you start interacting with others. That you live under, so you wouldn't have to compare.

The screwdriver is rudely snatched from his grasp, shocking him out of his thoughts but he still allows him to rattle on and just listens with a smile slowly appearing on his face as the insults start coming. "Look, I'm not going to apologize, I needed those parts and used them for good. But for what it's worth I am sorry for the inconvenience I caused and I promise to make it up to you."

He gently positions his hand and arm so Em can have better access to the parts that are difficult to reach, paying close attention more because there is nothing else to do other than talking, which Emery clearly is not in a mood for and less so that he can monitor what he is actually doing. He occasionally glances up and watches him play with something in his mouth

Once he starts talking Stray looks up, head casually tilting slightly to one side. When he hears the word he doesn’t blink, swallow, look away or make any facial reaction to it, but his flesh hand twitches just once. He doesn’t think too much into it, it’s just a phrase nothing else but the knee jerk reaction is still there when he is called a thing right to his face. " I mean more like all of the above really, I am trouble all around, a poor excuse for a vigilante if you will. " he actually smirks at how true it is. "What about you? Telepaths are pretty rare as far as I know and I've never met one who is just a civilian. Are you in some shady business that I don't know of?" he smiles jokingly. " Is this a front for something else?"

Of course it's all of the above. Fuck me. And fuck you too. Make it up to me, my ass.

It's not as if he's never worked with clients in and outside of the law. Not that they paraded that fact around for all to see. Well, some did and he persuaded them to seek out other technicians for second opinions or legal reasons. The latter not entirely a lie. Being liable for what should be routine government maintenance isn't ranked high on up his list of fun activities.

None were telepaths though.

He also doesn't like that Stray neither confirms nor denies his suspicions, but that's intentional. The twitch could be chalked up to nerves too but Em files it away in his mind anyway. Not like he's revealing all the cards in his hand either. At least there's plausible deniability in both their favors right now.

“Are you admitting you couldn't dig up any dirt to blackmail me with?” A knowing grin.

The answer is no. Besides the odd review online or forum post, Emery Becerra doesn't exist in any official capacity. And something tells him this man is the same, if he ever felt like digging.

“Honestly, this wouldn't be a terrible front if I were up to no good. I'd probably hire someone else to look more official. But, no, nothing shady. Just hiding in plain sight instead of underground, that's all. Trying not to draw too much attention so I don't up and disappear in the night.” It's meant to be a joke, but the laugh is strained to even his own ears. Em clears his throat and taps the screwdriver to Stray's wrist. “You should be have mobility back by the way.”

[ryuichifoxe]

Feeling someone brush against his mental shields is an entirely new experience that only happened once before in the sewers, and just because the contact is expected doesn't make it any easier. It's strange and unnerving for once feeling like a prey instead of the hunter.

He sees the frozen expression on Emery's face as the truth is revealed. Expects an attack more than anything else, and definitely not shooting words and casual conversation. He acts so calm, it must be a facade.

A moment passes and although the air between them is still charged with tension Em goes back to work. Relieved, he releases his grip on the device that rests in his pocket and puts his free hand back on the table.

"It takes a certain kind of stupidity if you ask me." he breaths out weakly trying and failing to show no emotion.

"Oh the hand?" short pause " Yeah I tried to fix it myself but in the end I needed someone to take a look at it. It has been bothering me for a while now." It's a good enough excuse, so sure, he lets Em think that he is no good when it comes to tech.

At least if he can't find what's missing I can easily fix that at home.

The hand is in pristine condition otherwise although it is clearly a very old model. Em doesn't see much of these, maybe one or two of his clients have them. Old veterans who came back from war or other kinds of duty are usually still equipped with them but civilian amputees definitely don't get these at the hospital.

"I am actually left handed so I don't use them for... that. Well I was right handed before but then shit happened so here I am." he scratches the ridge of his nose. Em can see now in this close proximity that it was broken before and healed just a little bit wrong and doesn't have an entirely smooth curve anymore.

Oversharing much?

"Anyway, you have a pretty nice place here. I take it the shop is going well the cilents must be satisfied" Yeah, that's right casual conversation just like a normal person would do. Doing great!

-✘

Em thinks his controlled expression in the face of small talk and the fact that he recognizes some of the stolen parts, worthy of an academy award.

”You're right about one thing," he says, steady hands removing more plates and setting them aside with their respective screws. His voice is just as even, the customer service persona dropped in favor of remaining calm. " You are a dumbass. For coming back, I mean. And I'm one for not tossing you out on your face.”

Might not be the dumbest thing Emery has ever done but it's up there. Top three.

Still unsure if the man in front of him is just another telepath or a runaway re-gene like himself. You'd think a military grade prosthesis would be a dead giveaway. It's not. Neither is the palpable paranoia. And his usual intelligence gathering strategy is off the table. Doubts it would end well for either of them if he tried.

Curious, his eyes flicker to the rolled up sleeve. Below the elbow. Tight. Nothing to show at the collar either. Similar to his own but that's a far cry from proof. He follows the movement of the other hand, really taking in the details. Prominent facial features and scars. Em doesn't recognize him. Though that's not saying much, there are only a handful of cuckoos he could confidently identify. Two were recycled before...

Emery shakes his head, trying to chase away the building migraine accompanying the memory.

Don't go poking that bear or you won't get any fucking sleep this week, Becerra.

So, he refocuses and asks him to flex his hand, observing how the inner mechanisms work in harmony. A beautiful thing, really. Calming. Technology usually was. Outdated sensor is definitely a problem.

Tool cabinets line one wall and half of another. Some smaller chests house actual tools, most are used to keep spare, specialized parts organized. He makes sure to keep his hands visible approaching them.

Blue. Second drawer has the sEMG sensors. Should try a newer processing board while I'm at it. Get everything up-to-date.

The only sound in the shop for the next few minutes is Emery rummaging through drawers.

“Most people project. Y'know? Makes the job a little easier, saves me time and customers money, avoiding unnecessary tests.” The admission breaks the silence and he glances over his shoulder on the way to another cabinet. “Don't get me wrong. I'm glad you're not, but we both know that hand is too well maintained for me to believe you don't have a better understanding than you're letting on. Unless this is some sort of test...”

Supplies in hand, Emery walks back but can't quite bring himself to sit. Instead, he looks the man in the eye. Searching for answers, a clue, anything.

“What else are you getting out of this? And if you crack some two bit joke about a hand job, I will kick your ass and throw you back in the sewer. I'll be sure to send an itemized bill via rat.” There's a crack in his mask, the hint of a smile at his own joke threat, but it's gone in a blink. A guarded weariness takes its place. “Look...if you want reassurance, I'm not interested in ruining your life. Pretty sure the name you gave is fake anyway.”

[ryuichifoxe]

Hawke sidles up to Varric at Skyhold, head nestled against his chest as the dwarf writes. And for a brief moment it’s like old times. Before he went on the run with Malachi and Anders. The ambience of the fortress is different than that of the Hanged Man, but the chatter is close enough. Louder than that is the scratch of pen on paper and the steady heartbeat just below his ear. 

For the first time in a year, Bennett feels at peace. The weight of the world melting from his shoulders as fingers card through his hair.

“It’s good to have you back, Hawke.”

He smiles at that. “Couldn’t keep me away if you tried, love.”

Varric’s chest rumbles with laughter and Bennett is hit hard by the realization of just how much he’s missed the sound. Missed watching those skilled hands glide across paper. How he smells of parchment, ink, and leather. Suddenly the year he lost makes his heart hurt.

“I missed you,” Hawke murmurs, voice thick with a mixture of emotion and exhaustion.

The hand in his hair stills. He feels the dwarf shift and hears the pen set aside, before strong arms encircle his shoulders. Varric’s stubble catches at his hair as he lays his chin atop his head. Taking this as an invitation and overcome with the need to hold onto the other, Hawke clumsily wraps his arms around his chest. 

“I know.” Me too.