#let’s just hope I do this well on the final :’)

[amazinglyashy]

hello!! can I request fluff reactions of the boys to mc craving something to eat in the middle of the night?

thank youu have a good day 🥰

I'm laughing because you asked this like it would be the most off the cuff situation, when literally every single one of these men canonly have an awful sleep schedule and nighttime habits. Like, there is absolutely nothing weird about this at all except the fact that you're awake when they're awake.

LaDS men when you crave something to eat in the middle of the night -

Zayne -

In all honestly, he was just now getting home from a shift at Akso hospital, so it takes him just a few moments to register why the situation in front of him was abnormal.

He can't help it, he's usually coming home in the early evening, not at three in the morning.

So when he sees you sitting at the counter, snacking on something, he simply sets his stuff down near the door and removes his tie, before coming over to give you a peck on the cheek in greeting.

He's made it halfway to the bathroom, yawning wide and telling himself to get some good sleep tonight- well, technically this morning- wait… morning…? What on earth were you doing up-

He's back in the kitchen in a second, with your eyes flickering back to him in an innocent question, confused as to why he's looking at you so bewildered.

'Why', is the only thing that comes out of his mouth, and when you finally process what he means by that, you can't help but give him a chuckle and a smile, still eating whatever you had gotten from the fridge or cupboard.

"I was hungry."

Not even going to question why you acted on your impulses to eat at three in morning. He'll just sigh, and tell you to make sure you get to bed soon for the sake of your health and mood tomorrow. Gives you one more kiss before heading off to get ready for bed himself.

Sylus -

He's probably just getting up.

So when he starts to rise and notices you lying awake, he's going to be confused, hoping to himself that you didn't have some freakish nightmare, especially not any possibly involving your past experiences with him-

No.

Turns out, you're currently trying to make yourself go back to sleep, despite wanting something warm to eat, but also not wanting to cook.

He's going to find it terribly endearing, letting out a little snicker and making you blush at his reaction, his hand carding through your hair as he leans down over you.

"I think you're forgetting something, kitten. I wake up around this time- meaning, I need to have something for breakfast before working on anything. You do know you can ask the chef to make you something right now, right sweetie?"

He won't say it, but you can tell he's so pleased to be eating with you, even though he knows you'll be heading off to bed right after, it's a nice change of pace for him. He's more than happy to have your company, no matter the odd hour.

Rafayel -

He's finally ready to kick himself into going to bed, but the moment he opens the bedroom door, he runs into you.

At first, he's worried.

Secondly, he's miffed that you got up to come and harrass him into coming to bed again.

Thirdly, he's extra miffed that none of the previous answers are true, but you're actually just hungry.

He's seen the way you snack, he knows you're not just making something up. And he can't exactly let you go back to bed hungry so-

That's how he ended up making a late night dish rather than finally heading to bed.

Any protests to him cooking fell on deaf ears. He's having none of that. He can tell you're still sleepy, and since he hasn't wound down yet, he isn't. So he's more than happy to cook for you.

Definitely wasn't hungry himself, definitely didn't forget to have dinner, no sir-

He'll sit and eat with you, asking if you had any interesting dreams, before making up scenarios that may have occurred involving food monsters and treat fairies.

He's not trying to hear that beautiful sound that is your laugh. Not at all. He's trying even less hard to make the meal last longer, just so that he can spend a little bit more time with you-

Xavier -

He probably saw you on his own way to get a snack, in all honesty.

You two just have to share a look, contemplating the situation, before the both of you begin to grin, realizing what the other is awake doing.

He offers to walk you around the block to the corner shop that's open 24hrs, so that the two of you can get some junk food or spicy microwave noodles to have together.

If you don't want to go anywhere, he'll either go himself or order delivery from somewhere that's open all hours so that you guys don't need to cook. He doesn't want to put out a fire for his attempts this late at night, and you either don't feel like it, or you're not the best at it yourself.

(You're still better than him though.)

Whenever the two of you end up getting your food, you sit together on the couch, legs folded over one another as you tangle together to watch an episode of something you've been binging.

You'll both wake up completely different though- having fallen asleep together on the couch after finishing your food, and ending up snuggled closely, a bundle of warm blankets and pajamas mixed with the relaxing sensation of the other's breathing.

Thank goodness today was the both of your day off...

[reallychaoticwoo]

Can you do an ATEEZ reaction to their girlfriend squirting on them for the first time?

⛓️ Yess! Lord help me cause honestly the thought of this has me absolutely feral! 🤤🫠⛓️

✨️ Do It Again ✨️

❤️Pairing: Ateez x reader

📌 Masterlist

⚠️Warnings: MDNI 18+ ONLY!! cussing, squirting (obvs), fingering, oral (f receiving), face riding, thigh riding, unprotected sex (wrap it up buttercup!), dom/sub dynamics, use of pet names (daddy, sir, babe, baby, darling, my love, etc) rough sex, clawing, overstimulation, slight bondage, I think that's it but lmk if I missed anything 🖤

‼️This is purely for entertainment purposes and does not represent the idol(s) in any way‼️

🖤Please support your authors by liking, reblogging, or even just leaving a comment! I love interacting with comments and reblogs they honestly make my day. As always, I hope you enjoy!🖤

HONGJOONG:

His fingers buried themselves deep inside you for the 4th time tonight as your release washed over you (and him). His eyes widened and his once concentrated face morphed into that of a predator. "Oh sweetheart, you didn't tell me you could do that." Something between fear and arousal circulated deep inside you as you awaited his next words. "Oh I am going to have so much fun seeing how many times I can make you squirt for me, my love. I hope you're ready." His final word spoken just as his fingers entered your overly sensitive cunt for a 5th time.

SEONGHWA:

Your legs trembled and your back arched as you screamed, your orgasm rushing through you like never before. He lifted his face from your core, his pupils blown, and his face glistening. He chuckled darkly as he snaked up your body to meet your lips."Darling, did you know you could do that and didn't tell me?" You shook your head frantically, "N..No! I didn't know I promise!" He hummed to himself as he thought over your words. "Well, you made quite the mess. I suppose I won't punish you for it... IF my sweet girl can squirt for me again before I cum." He swiftly snapped his hips forward burying himself to the hilt. "Starting now." He said as he reared back and thrust inside again.

YUNHO:

He was balls deep in your cunt, thrusting hard and deep. His tip kissing your cervix with each snap of his hips. Your slick walls clenched around him as your arms gave out and you fell face first into the mattress. "Fuccckk I didn't know you could do that baby." He practically growled as he began picking up speed, his own release threatening to snap. "One more baby, give me one more please, fuck that was so hot!" His voice closer than before as he bent forward to whisper in your ear. His hand placed on the back of your neck pushing you further into the bed as his thrusts grew frantic. A few thrusts later and your release sprayed all over as his own was pumping deep inside.

YEOSANG:

His eyes were blown out as you bounced yourself up and down, your warm tight walls clenching down on his length as you chased your orgasm. Your head fell back as you bottomed out, euphoria washing over your body. He held you hips and bucked up into you, elongating your release. "Shit... shit that was so sexy." You smiled down at him as you slowly started moving your hips again. "If you can get me to do it again before you cum, I'll wake you up to head for a week. How's that sound Sangie?" He thrust his hips up into you once before answering "Sounds like a challenge I am going to enjoy either way baby. You're on."

SAN:

Your back was up against the wall and your legs hanging over his arms as he thrust into you with such primal force. You clawed down his back as you let go, soaking the two of you in your essence. He glared down at where your bodies met and smirked with nothing but pure sin in his eyes. "Oh, oh you've fucked up babygirl. Gonna make you do that again and again. Gonna take this cock all fucking night right princess?" You gulped, already fucked out, and managed to mumble, "Yes sir. Gonna take what daddy gives me." He resumed his brutal pace without warning before whispering in your ear, "Good girl."

MINGI:

Your thighs were straddling his face as he blissfully lost himself in your cunt. Out of all the things he loved, you riding his face had to be in the top five. A particularly sharp suck on your clit sent you over the edge as you tried to keep from falling forward. He did not let up as you squirted all over his face, his tongue hungrily begging for more as it lapped at your folds. Once you caught your breath you sat back on his chest. "Shit, oh my god are you okay Min?? I didn't know that was gonna happen!" He just smiled still drunk of your pussy before he answered, "Drown me again please, pretty please baby!" He didn't even wait for a reply before he grabbed your hips and moved you back to his face.

WOOYOUNG:

The thing about you and Woo that works so well is that you're both bratty as fuck. Although you both liked to test the limits, Woo almost always ended up on top and in charge. Tonight was no different. You laid back against the bed, hands tied to the headboard, your legs spread apart by a spreader bar, and Woo between your thighs with a magic wand grinning manically. You were so overly sensitive from the hour he'd been edging you that tears streamed down your face as you begged him to let you cum. And the second he said "Cum for me sweetie" your orgasm washed over you like a hurricane threatening to destroy your very existence. As you slowly came back to, your vision finally returning, you looked to Woo. His cheshire smirk only grew as he met your eyes before practically growling, "Do it again."

JONGHO:

You were feeling especially needy tonight. Rubbing yourself on his thigh as he tried to relax from a long day. "That's it baby bear, doesn't that feel good?" He asked as his hands moved in tandem with your hips adding some much needed pressure. "Y-yes..ssoo good.. gonna cum soon.." You moaned as you began to pick up your pace. You buried your face in his neck, needy whines escaping your lips as you slowly reached your climax. His hands moving your hips for you, slowly dragging you back and forth as your rode out your high. "Sweet baby bear, did you just squirt on my thigh?" You mumbled something incoherent. "Lay down baby. We're gonna go again until you do that on my dick, understand?" You nodded, chest still heaving as you laid back for him. "Yes please sir."

‼️TAG LISTS FOR GENERAL ATEEZ CONTENT ARE OPEN! I do also have tag lists for individual members if you like to be added to that.

[scopophobia-polaris]

So, to add on to Navi's post, because her whole read for the original was getting screenshots from the game to debunk what was said, of course....we are now here. I want to tell you that no one here disagreed with your conclusion about Ganondorf being a victim. What we here disagreed with was the method you used to get there. Simplifying Ganondorf down to solely good or solely evil is something this Fandom does all the time with little to no nuance. And even though you have written an eloquent essay, Published even! You twisted or outright made up parts of the game to get to your conclusion. In essay writing, that's called a logical fallacy, and the whole essay either twists what happens in the game or outright gets it wrong.

Now people are probably gonna wonder why I'm treating this like a big deal or why I'm speaking so blunt, because this is by all means very stupid fandom drama.

But I think when you're a college prof and you get an essay published and it's online for people to read everywhere without you, one, not giving the context behind Ganondorf's creation and the coding of his appearance and motivations, two the complexities of a corporate conglomerate in a notoriously socially conservative country taking aesthetics from countries who were historically colonized. And Three, The way that video games are a collaborative effort with usually no singular vision, this is very true at nintendo despite what people may think, and at any moment changes can be made for any reason by team leads or executives that would hinder or even hurt a story. It detrimental to the audience reading it that you do not provide them more of a couple of screenshots

Basically, many things go into a story and now I'm taking this more from a DOYLIST view right here talking about Nintendo. But I'm doing this because you keep trying to say..... well fuck man do I need to pull up more examples? Navi got them all, the whole essay is you trying HEAVILY to imply that Nintendo MEANT to do all of this, as in intentional in the story, idk I feel crazy, words have meaning, specific wording has implication, oh and this dosent even get into how localization can change things 😃😀 wording has meaning and sometimes translators don't have cultural contexxxtttttttt and to not even mention about Nintendo's history or even the short hand that comes from Ganondorf's design and the historical Orientalism behind it feels like a disservice to the paper, but much more qualified people then I have discussed the way Ganondorf is written and probably would love to discuss or link to previous writing again if asked.

And this is a cold take but Nintendo isn’t the place you should be looking to for deep story telling, they will always be a corporate entity first and the bottom line is a general audience, this does not mean JUST KIDS this means to a generalized population. And this is extremely cynical but a lot of people cant even handle the complexity of a female character who is mean, like Midna, do you really think people would handle a Ganondorf like how he is in Tp being portrayed in any form of film language as good????? This game dropped 5 years after 9/11, Nintendo was never gonna lose out in money like that.

And Dude people have given so much shit to HUGE fanartists and comic authors about their work portraying Ganondorf in a sympathetic light, you would of thunk more people would of picked up on Ganondorf's story being written as tragedy if there was something in the game that actually DID that. Maybe they would of written a blog post about how Midna saw Link kill Ganondorf and was ashamed of that or Ganondorf TOTALLY said the history of light and shadow will be written in blood thing before the final battle, you think people would of talked about huh why did Ganondorf say that there or something and maybe went 🤔 instead of it being argued that Tp Ganondorf had the weakest writing of the series until TotK threw a pile of flaming shit at my door with a picture of Ganondorf on it.

Navi also goes in depth on how Hyrule has not exactly stagnated like what was claimed in History of Light and Shadow by using the Goron merchants and Yeto as examples.

Rynling has stated that the cause of the stagnation and decline is due to an ineffectual leader that has "Not allowed its people to be revitalized by change and diversity."

Now I am familiar with the flaws of an undetermined national unity, I am very familiar with the subject, but I’m not going to speak like an authority. Id rather let someone much more qualified make that post and I link back to it, because i know its coming. But Navi said in her post that the idea of what could of happened at Arbiter's Grounds can completely blow over someone's head if they didn't play OoT first, and I think more or less this is accurate, certain things are lost in Wind Waker even with the recaps, but I wanna join in on this in my own way...

Rynling....you may say Hyrule has been on a decline during Tp......you may even think OoT had a more stable Hyrule or some shit.....i THINK YOU FORGOT ABOUT THE PLOT OF OCARINA OF TIME BAYBEEEEEEE

THE SUPPLEMENTAL MATERIAL THAT I CAN PULL UP TO PROVE MY SHIT ABOUT OOT HYRULE BEING DOG SHIT IN COMPARISON TO TP

Like if you're seriously gonna link me and Navi to your essay then I am about to go full BTW it's a Sativa and eat that bitch after midnight cuZ we YELLIN ABOUT OCARINA OF TIME ON THIS POST FOR EVERYONE🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

All of Ocarina of Time's narrative is haunted by the civil war, the whole reason why Link is being raised in the woods is cuz of the civil war, the Sheikah are implied to have died out during the same conflict, and well its said that Hyrule was unified during it

Civil War yet the translators use unified the country like it WASNT under a sole ruler before? Hello? I need to go back through the Japanese script for the game again to see if i missed something of the game and freak it harder. And do realize the Deku sprout in this screenshot says fierce war but every where else, including the Zelda wiki (not fandom) its CIVIL War.

The Gate to Death mountain and Simultaniously the fence at Zora's river gives us and idea that peace was....tenuous at best downright hostile at worse given relations with the Gerudo

so today we gonna do some fun comparing and contrasting the Gorons and how they are treated in OoT to TP

and we gonna start with his racist ass BHJBHDBHKCJW

I mean, damn remmeber how mad Darunia is at Link for being the supposed royal family messenger? Link Unlocking the door to Darunia's room with Zelda's lullaby, I think it's a little funny that Darunia is hung up , you know, like he knows this is some disrespectful shit

Hey wannna hear some shit? The gates at the edge of death mountain aren't guarded by Gorons and were not built by them you can tell, the only way to visit the mountain is to get permission from the King to go up and not from the people that actually live there

God and like, there is something about the way Darunia locks himself in his room, like he does it to keep the ruby safe from all the other Gorons being so hungry that he's frightened they're gonna eat it, he doesn't know what to do on how to act about the Dodongos that Ganondorf summon on him for not giving over that rock. It qlmost sounds like when Ganondorf came in and Threatened Darunia, and that he (Darunia) sent a message to the royal family asking for help, why else would he be expecting someone to come meet with him?

"If I'm not mistaken, you came out here to eat the red stone too! Well, too bad! It's not here! What? That's not why you're here? You're looking for a "Spiritual Stone?" You must mean that delicious-looking red stone that was once displayed above the city! I was so hungry that I thought it would be OK to just give it one tiny, little lick...so I snuck up there. But it was already gone! I think Big Brother took it away. He always says that everyone is after that red stone! Big Brother has shut himself up in his room saying, "I will wait in here for the Royal Family's messenger!" this is a quote from the Goron that you can find on the middle of the rope bridge thing in Goron city.

Yeah so he sent a letter or something and no one answered yeesh.

contrast this all with TP where OH LOOKS WHO'S GUARDING DEATH MOUNTAIN

so in TP spoilers, this happens

Kakariko is more connected then ever! Renado here is wondering what the hell is going on with their FRIENDS. And yeah the Goron elder Gor Coron is trying to keep the last few people from kakariko left safe, and other Gorons, i mean, theyre keeping a piece of the fused shadow in there. also the way that entry into the temple goes in this game is cute, Darunia was freaking it cuz everyone is starving, but here Link wrestles his way up a mountain to ask the Gron elder whats happening since he was asked to come here by Renado, Gor Coron goes DAMN

unless......?

IDK ITS LIKE? ITS SILLY? Idk Hyrule isnt the best place but why try and act like this doesnt happen during TP?

so where am i getting at with this? the hell was going on back during OoT? If things are so odd and weirdly tense with the gates gaurds and non responses

"As time passed, the Triforce became a legend, and the different people of Hyrule forgot the laws and wisdom that the goddesses had left behind. Warfare and strife became common in Hyrule, as the armies of the Zora marched on the Hylians. The Gorons fought the Gerudo. It seemed every race of Hyrule was at the other's throat. Only the secluded Kokiri, sheltered by their magical forest and the Great Deku Tree, were spared the destruction of Hyrule's civil wars.

After 50 years of ceaseless combat, there arose a Hylian King of great wisdom, courage and power. Through his brilliant military campaigns and wise diplomacy, he was able to bring the varied people of Hyrule into a tenuous harmony. Treaties of peace were signed, and prosperity once again seemed to bloom in Hyrule. But no sooner had people declared peace in Hyrule than trouble once again stalked the land."

Tenuous Harmony, could you imagine if they dropped a line like this in Creating a champion? The tumblr side of the fandom would go fucking nuts with that info like OHHHHH SHIT WAS GOING ONNNNNN

This was ALL on the offical Nintendo Zelda website back when oot was the big game out, we have this cuz someone saved it to the wayback, THIS SCREENSHOT WAS FROM DECEMBER 14TH 2001, ABOUT A FULL YEAR AND A DAY UNTIL WIND WAKER WAS RELEASED IN JAPAN. THAT'S INSANE RIGHT???? ‼️‼️🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

And then it all probably got deleted once wind waker became the new thing!!! Or when they wanted to modernize and deleted it!!! THAT SUCKS RIGHT????

And what's worse is that it introduces some new info and also clarifies something. Hey you know when I made that post like damn Darunia racist as hell

"Warfare and strife became common in Hyrule, as the armies of the Zora marched on the Hylians. The Gorons fought the Gerudo."

NO WHERE IN THE GAME THE LEGEND OF ZELDA OCARINA OF TIME IT SAYS THIS, IT DOES NOT STATE THERE WAS CONFLICT BETWEEN THE GORONS AND GERUDO.....LIKE DIN GET YA KIDS.....IM LOOKING EVERYWHERE FOR SOMETHING I MUST OF MISSED.

But Like oh hey a fucking explanation to why he just fucking says that, I figure it was cuz of Ganondorf trying to almond mom all of them or that he kept talking to the King and well.....Navi already showed the GENERAL reaction to the Gerudo in castle town.

it went from oh hes just racist to dARUNIA AND GANONDORF HAVE HISTORY????

But the interesting one is why did thy Zora "marched on the Hylians."

Like sitting here like, I know a comic made in Germany shouldn't be a be all end all in shit I knew it never was and it would like. If you put this in warrior cats canonicoty categorization would be considered lower down supplementary material dubious canon, but their are things in the comic AND the Himekawa manga that behinds some behind the scenes actions given that LINK'S MOM HAS A MOSTLY CONSISTENT DESIGN WHAT THE HELLLLLLLL. And I always thought the Goron Zora war thing was stupid but Nintendo then had that out on their website, what the hell was going ON.

Because idk i didnt think much of Zora De Bon XVI and the Hyrulien King's relationship but

Now a days the Zelda website is much different and does not have lore pages like this anymore, it's more like a summary of the timeline. But yeah actually Nintendo approved shit, Hylian/Zora war.

Hyrule is progressing, its just going slowly, Hyrule is not AS stifled by its monarchy or a lack of integration during TP because Hyrule IS integrating, is people's are intermingling like is hasn't before during this game.

And this isn't even to get started on the E3 demo of Twilight princess that the trip that Link is supposed to take at the beginning of the game was to be the representative of Ordon at the "Hyrule summit

and Hyrule is described in a VERY specific way

Kingdom of Hyrule and neighboring realms? like theyre all not under the crown? so like???? FUN, that didn't end up making it in the game. the dailouge that is, But the remints is still there in the way the game is made up, like how OoT is built off is civil war bones

actually funny, Navi just got me screenshots of the way the dialouge was changed here

Like stuff clearly changed during the demo and finished game, I should of been touching more on the intricacies of how like shit was just change for no reason sometimes but uh....

But maybe @rawliverandgoronspice would want to one day like about games industry stuff if you ever want to 😭 I know you're super passionate on this and I wish I like even off hand mentioned something about how like TP is also effected by how games are made but I didn't and I'm a fool but games are complicated as hell and that post you made talking a bit about it was fun ya know 👉👈 and the Beta of Tp changes a LOT of stuff, one Rusl really is like a brother to link in the way he messes with him, it actually makes some weird Nintendo licensed shit saying hes like a big brother to Link made WAYYYYY more since with the Beta in mind, but....that also mean they tried to keep the big bro vibes....but then put the dad ones in there too like.....uh...did..someone not change his summary anywhere?

that was my big thing i wanted to talk about, navi's already touched on everything else i just think the parallels here between the Goron quest between OoT and TP changes in such a nice way.

And like this doesn't get into other shit about TP, like if we wanna deep dive into shit ya don't gotta do it by twisting the story, like I was going and talking to @blackautmedia to ask with some help when it came to like.......god idk what i even said anymore i was going a mile a minute. He wants to write his own thing on Twilight princess so im not gonna step on his toes but he has recommended Arabs and Muslims in the Media: Race and Representation after 9/11 by Evelyn Alsultany, the link I provided here is too her website and her page on the book this link here is from her own site that has a pdf of a part American Quarterly with a paper by the same name.

Anyways i wanna reflex for a moment cuz ive been up for hours finishing this because my brain wont stop unless i do. But the thing that by all means started this, was not your reblog linking me and Navi to your essay, or that there is 2 versions i found out where the paper published one had a lot more context to why you wrote your tumblr post the way you did, Navi helped me get the parts that were cut, please realize removing these does not remove the sentiment from the essay, its baked in.

fanfic, its a popular Fan interpretation that there was fighting between the Gerudo and Hylians after Ganondorf was caught trying to take the triforce, but this is not stated to of happened in the lore itself or even has evidence to back it up other then the Implications of Arbiter's grounds theory

UGHHHH AND THIS AGAIN "Twilight Princess Delivers a subtle yet poignant protest against neoliberal discourses of empire reflected in the rhetoric of heroism inform the geopolitical movements of Japan throught the twentieth century"

WHAT ARE YOU FUCKING TALKING ABOUT......

i dont mean this in a stupid ass way, im saying where the hell was about the protest thing, wait i really shouldt take from the published one cuz you actually dumbed down the line for tumblr

anyways again, where, Navi made it clear enough with her own post that, no, the way that Ganondorf is animated has no sympathy for him until the light is literally leaving him. Hell Twilight princess inst very kind to the gerudo either given that the only thing said about them is that they were thieves and nothing more. Like somehow OoT is more empathetic to the Gerudo, it doesn't just call them thieves, it aint great its not even good its just a bad portrayal of a people, and yet somehow OoT is willing to show the Gerudo in a neutral light at points then TP ever did.

but the reason i decided to just throw down a post is cuz i was pissed that you went after Ezlo for reblogging ME and NAVI's posts and purposefully misunderstood their fuckin wind waker post about ZELDA YOUTUBERS

dude you had them getting genuinely harassed by people with 0 reading comprehension that thinks a snarky reply to a tumblr post means its 100% correct. Webbed. Site.

anyways, I hope people don't take this as a right or wrong way to interpret a piece of work, as stated before, I read your essay, navi read your essay, you changed parts of Twilight Princess to get to the conclusion of you paper...And im gonna be real but it's kinda crazy that you're using post colonial melancholia for this when it's got some.....well something like idk i need someone to do a full ass review because there are point where i gently raise an eyebrow im gonna be real. but also like

like how do you read his book and then miss out on this, one of your whole big aruments is that hyrule is stagnate and not multi cultural and i had to grab screenshots and Navi had to get shit from the game.

like damn, do yall ever uh feel a strange sadness when dusk falls? i do. Idk this is one of the first and last times Nintendo ever delt with Ganondorf with some form a sympathy for him, cuz we got the dragon explosion in totk its like oh he's turbo evil now and he exploded you exploded him and yet the Gerudo probably still gotta pay for his shit from a billion years ago anyways idk idk idk pot shots at totk again.

I know you dug around a little for that post, and I understand from the numerous people that dmed me about that, you probably went on making an essay on their post so you could sound smart again.

And to be clear, I was told to drop some shit i was about to say about you because no one wants to start fandom drama, neither do I truly and any jab on the post itself would just be rude. people change and some people only learn to shut the hell up, so we'll keep it at that. I just hope you really don't truly recognize some of these people you started shit with.

So yeah tldr, uh.....idk, im going in for an autism screening in a month

also me watching the ending to windwaker cuz i wanted to say something about stong endings TP fans im sorry But Wind waker's ending hits no matter what best sequal to OoT thats isnt Majora's mask

The History of Light and Shadow

At the end of Twilight Princess, Ganondorf delivers one of his most memorable lines, “The history of light and shadow will be written in blood.” He is not wrong. As the player has witnessed over the course of Link’s adventure, Hyrule is haunted by ruins and ghost towns, a mere shadow of what it once was. The landscape is filled with numerous sites of past violence and empty spaces visibly marked by decay and wasted potential.

When Zelda tells Link and Midna that “these dark times are the result of our deeds,” she is referring to specific historical acts of imperialistic aggression. Hyrule established hegemony over its outlying territories by crushing the rebellions against its advances, but the kingdom has suffered from cultural stagnation as a result. Without the dynamic diversity symbolized by Ganondorf, Hyrule finds itself in economic and political decline, isolated from any contact with the world beyond its shrinking borders.

As a representative of a marginalized group of people who have been attacked and driven from their homes, Ganondorf is a tangible manifestation of the horrors of imperialism. He must be defeated, but doing so does not address the underlying problems that have resulted in Hyrule’s decline. I therefore want to argue that Twilight Princess uses Ganondorf to deliver a subtle yet poignant protest against the discourses of empire reflected by the dualistic “light and shadow” rhetoric of heroism that has resulted in tragedy and regret.

Keep reading

[hoshifighting]

tutor!woozi (part 2)

check the part 1 (kinktober bonus)

WARNINGS: +18, smut, (oral f. & m.), throat fucking, penetrative sex, mentions of body fluids (cum, spit)

after that night, for all the times you’d wanted to text him, your ego kept its foot firmly on the brake. if jihoon thought you’d just come crawling back after his little remark, he was dead wrong. it didn’t matter how much your body craved another taste of him; no way were you about to give him that satisfaction. besides, it wasn’t like you were the only one who enjoyed that night, despite his attitude. if he wanted it again, HE’d have to come to you.

over the next week, every hallway encounter was a battle of wills. you’d pass by him with your friends, glancing away just slightly so you wouldn’t have to meet his gaze. and while your friends couldn’t help but notice the way jihoon’s friends looked at you as you walked by—waiting for the smirk you always used to throw his way—you’d hold your chin up and act like he didn’t even exist.

the whispers had started up again, too. after all, you and jihoon had been seen together plenty at the start of the semester, supposedly “studying” for a class you knew you didn’t even share. his friends had even toasted him over some rumor that tutoring wasn’t the only “learning” happening during those sessions. and now? they watched you like they were trying to figure out if you’d switched interests, especially when they saw you walking through campus with someone else’s arm casually slung over your shoulder. jihoon’s friends wore confused expressions, and if jihoon himself noticed…well, he didn’t give a single clue.

but it was getting harder to ignore it. especially tonight.

it was 9 pm, and you were dressed and ready for a night at the local bar, hoping a little drink and dance would be enough to take your mind off him completely. heading out, you made the mistake of cutting through his dorm hall, almost jogging to keep the tension from catching up with you. maybe he’d be out. or maybe he was too busy doing something else. you didn’t care. but as you neared the end of the hallway, a hand caught your arm, yanking you backward so quickly that you stumbled.

before you could react, you found yourself inside a dorm room, the familiar smell already cluing you in to where you were before you could fully process it. jihoon’s hand was still around your arm, the dorm was silent, the noise of the hall muffled as the door clicked shut behind you.

“where are you running off to, dressed like that?”

your pulse was racing, but you gave him a steady look, shrugging your arm free of his grip. “does it matter?” you smirked, turning as if to open the door, only to feel him step even closer behind you, blocking the way.

“what’s wrong with you?” you ask, crossing your arms.

you knew you had his attention, and now, for whatever reason, it looked like he couldn’t hold back anymore. jihoon opens his mouth like he’s about to answer, but he bites his tongue, his gaze dropping to the side as if the walls would have a solution for him.

“what’s wrong with me?” he finally retorts, jaw tense. “you had to ignore me that hard in front of my friends? couldn’t even throw a glance my way?”

you let out a genuine laugh. “weren’t you the one who told me not to reach out to you unless i wanted a ‘good fuck’? well, sorry, but didn’t seem worth it.”

his eyes flash. “really? ‘cause you seemed pretty into it at the time,” he counters, almost daring you to deny it.

“maybe i was.” you shrug. “but maybe i got over it.”

jihoon’s jaw clenches, and he takes a half step forward, closing the space separating you. “over it? you think you can just get over it that easy?”

“why not?”

he lets out a scoff, shaking his head. “you’re full of it. bet you thought about that night as much as i did. don’t. lie.”

your heart races, but you lift your chin defiantly. “if i’m full of it, then so are you, mr. i-don’t-need-anyone-reachin’-out-to-me. didn’t think you’d care if i ignored you. you’re all talk jihoon.” you tease, looking up at him, daring him to prove you wrong.

“all talk?” he scoffs, his mouth inches from yours, but he doesn’t close the gap. “maybe you need a reminder of how ‘not worth it’ i was.”

before you can reply, his hand slides down to the curve of your hip, pulling you close as his other hand tilts your chin up. his lips brush against yours in the faintest tease of a kiss before he pulls back, just enough to keep you wanting.

you let out a frustrated huff, trying to close the distance, but he holds you in place, a cocky smirk creeping onto his face. “not so fast... you wanted this, didn’t you?”

“you know i did.”

“so admit it... admit you wanted me to come after you.”

your pride fights to hold out, but the way his fingers dig into your ass meat, the way his voice drops just for you, it’s impossible to resist. “fine,” you whisper back. “i wanted you to come after me.”

he’s leaning in, lips parted, ready to crash into yours finally when your hand presses against his chest. he freezes, eyes flicking up to yours, searching. “bad boys don't get kissed.” you mock, savoring the way his expression falters.

he recognizes that phrase. he opens his mouth, maybe to protest, but he just closes his eyes, breathing out a low exhale through his nose, clearly biting back his response.

but the fury in his eyes returns, darker, and without a word, his hand slides up to the back of your neck, pulling you down with a grip that tells you exactly where this is going.

you let him guide you onto your knees.

“fine,” he mutters, voices gravelly, fingers grazing your jaw. “don’t need your kiss, anyway. got a better idea.”

his thumb drags along your lower lip, pressing until you open your mouth for him, and he can’t hide the hungry look that flashes across his face.

“this mouth of yours,” he mutters, thumb slipping between your lips. “always running it, always pushing me.” he watches intently as you take him in, tongue curling around his thumb, obedient despite the defiance in your eyes. “bet you’ll think twice about mouthing off when you’re choking on my cock.”

he undoes his shorts string, sliding it off, and before you know it, he’s pushing the fabric down just enough to free himself, his cock standing hard, thick and flushed in front of you.

he strokes himself slowly, dragging his length along your lips, smearing precum over them like lipgloss as he says, “you tap my thigh if you need a breath, got it?”

you nod, mouth already watering as you part your lips wider, letting him guide himself between them. his fingers tangle in your hair, pulling just enough to make you feel the sharp tug, and then he starts pushing forward, filling your mouth inch by inch until he’s pressing against the back of your throat.

he doesn’t ease up. he moves faster, driving deeper until he’s hitting that spot that makes your throat clench around him, your eyes watering instantly. spit starts to collect at the corners of your mouth, sliding down your chin as he pulls back only to push in again, even deeper this time, his cock stretching your throat wide, demanding every inch of space.

“all that attitude… gone.” his hand tightens in your hair, holding you still as he starts thrusting with a rough rhythm, hips snapping forward. “bet you’d do anything to prove me wrong now, wouldn’t you?”

he’s relentless, each thrust pressing your mouth and throat to their limits, your gag reflex triggered with every push. you feel spit pooling, slipping past your lips as you struggle to keep up with him, swallowing around his length even as he reaches deeper, his cock twitching at the tight, involuntary clenches of your throat.

you’re practically dripping, reduced to whimpers and gasps as he fucks your mouth, his hips rolling forward again and again, no space left for anything but him. when he pulls back for a second, a trail of spit stretches between your lips and the head of his cock, and he groans, wiping the mess over your cheek before plunging in again, going even harder.

“so pretty like this,” he mutters, watching as your eyes grow wetter, each thrust forcing a new wave of spit down your chin and neck, over his thighs. your fingers gripping his thighs for balance, and he smirks, giving a particularly sharp thrust that has you choking, throat convulsing as a line of spit drips down your chin. “that’s right. take it all.”

he starts slowing, grinding his hips forward, keeping himself pressed deep as he lets out a low groan, feeling the way you tremble. and then he thrusts one last time, deeper than before, pushing himself right to the base. he lets out a ragged breath as he stills, his cock twitching as you feel him tense, holding himself there, filling your throat as he spills into you, viscous and hot.

you swallow as best as you can, the bitter taste coating your tongue, but he doesn’t let you pull back right away.

you let the fullness press down on your throat until the edges of your vision begin to blur, the air thinning, everything swimming. you tap his thigh rapidly, a faint, desperate plea, and just as your lungs burn hottest, he releases, pulling you back with a hand steadying your shoulder. you slump onto your heels, shoulders sagging as you gulp down air, your head swimming with the remnants of his hold on you.

his hands stay firm on your shoulders, keeping you steady as you breathe, your throat aches, stretched and raw, the sting of his rough pace lingering with every shallow gulp.

as he maneuvers you onto the bed, his hands slide down impatiently and your dress and panties are gone all in once. he pauses for a moment, taking you in, his gaze raking over the sight of your swollen lips and sultry eyes, glazed with that barely-there smirk. 

he cant do this right now.

he grips your arm, twisting you to fall chest-first onto the mattress, hips lifted up as his arm curls around you.

“you—” you scoff, voice raspy, “can’t you fuck me while looking at my face?”

he lets out a low laugh, leaning close to your ear as his hand slides down your back. “oh, i think you’ve had enough of my face for tonight… plus, i think you look even better like this—bent over and whining.”

you couldnt even have a second to roll your eyes, a comeback on the tip of your tongue, but he’s already there, pressing into you suddenly, stretching your pussy in one hard, unrelenting thrust that punches the breath right out of your lungs. a cry rips from you, loud and hoarse, and you brace yourself against the mattress, fingers twisting into the sheets as your whole body shakes.

"that shut you up?” he breathes, hands digging into your hips as he sets a bruising pace. you can’t even catch your breath, every thrust leaving you reeling, gasping for air. tears prick at your eyes, spilling over as he hits that spot, so precise it’s maddening.

“fuck—s-so deep—” you choke out, incoherent as you press your cheek to the sheets, gripping the fabric so hard your knuckles ache. his fingers dig into the meat of your hips, pulling you back to meet every thrust, his balls slapping your clit making you convulse with everythrust. 

“thought you wanted this, yeah?” he taunts, leaning down. “thought you liked it rough. what, too much for you now?”

“n-no—” you manage, though the word comes out in a broken sob, your voice betraying you. he’s unrelenting, snapping his hips forward with every word, and you can feel yourself falling apart, the way he’s not holding anything back. it’s dizzying and yet you can’t help but crave it, want more, need more.

“thought you could handle it, acting all cocky,” he sneers, giving your ass a hard smack that makes you jolt, a fresh tide of tears spilling down your cheeks.“crying for it. pathetic.”

you let out a choked, breathless sob, the humiliation only heightening the need simmering inside you. “p-please…” you whimper, unable to do anything but plead as he keeps driving into you.

“oh, now you’re begging?” he laughs. “all that attitude, all that talk, and now you’re nothing but a crying mess on my bed.”

another broken cry slips out of you, and he chuckles. his hands trail down your spine, his fingers digging into your skin, grounding you, steadying you in the haze.

“you’re so fucking pretty like this,” he coos. “all desperate… should’ve known you’d like it this way.”

you can’t respond, can’t do anything but let out a helpless, broken cry, body arching, straining against him as you feel your orgasm approaching. and even then, he doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, keeping you there.

“you thought you could come in here all high and mighty that night.. now look where that got you.”

“shut up,” you manage to gasp as he snaps his hips harder, the sound echoing in the small space. “you’re—” another thrust cuts you off, drawing another whimper from your throat.

“i’m what? too rough for you? too much for that little mouth of yours? you’ve got no problem talking back when you’re not getting fucked, huh?”

“i said shut up!” you cry out, though your voice is shaky, betraying you. “you’re just—oh my god—”

“just what?” 

“i hate you,” you whimper, even as your body betrays you, arching into him, chasing that sweet friction.

he can hear the contradiction.

“sure you do,” he laughs softly, his breath warm against your skin.

the moment you squeeze him harder, makes him wince, his cock feels so sensitive, after that last mind-blowing orgasm, and he can’t help but throw his head back, his breath hitching in his throat as he fights to control himself.

you’re lost in your own world, eyes shut tight as you cling to him, and he uses that to his advantage. with a smirk curling on his lips, he pulls out slowly, relishing the way your body protests against the emptiness.

“n-no, jihoon!” you whine, instinctively reaching for him. you grab his hand from behind your back, intertwining your fingers with his, a silent plea not to tease you anymore. 

“c’mon, jihoon, just stop teasing me already.” you push your ass against his hips, a cheeky slap echoing in the room. 

he would be lying if he says it doesn’t turn him on, when your existence is enough to make his blood run hot. as he lowers himself behind you, he can’t help but watch the way your pussy clenchesaround nothing, how your curves seem to invite him in. 

he leans in, letting his breath ghost over your skin before he dives in, his tongue swirling around your dripping pussy. you cry all cute on his sheets, like his tongue was a sweet and massaging reward after he destroyed your cunt with his thick lenght.

he lets your clit rest under his tongue as he dives the tip of the wet, pinky muscle, between your folds. just to flick the tongue down again and take the throbbing nerve inside his mouth, making you sob.

his tongue dances across your folds, the slickness of your cum coating him. his mouth is warm and inviting, eager haven as he drinks you in. he alternates between languid licks that tease your puffy lips and insistent flicks that make you roll your eyes. 

your hands tangle in his hair from behind, pulling him closer as you urge him on, the silky strands slipping through your fingers. his fingers tighten around your thighs, holding you firmly in place as he plunges his tongue deeper, swirling it around inside you.

your body is a symphony of slickness, the remnants of your cum coating his chin and the skin around his mouth. he dives back in, tongue swirling around your entrance, licking up every drop of your honey before turning his attention back to your clit.

“i’m so close, jihoon,” you whimper. “that's it!”

he responds by sucking your clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it while his fingers push into you, the pressure of them stretching you just right. 

as if on cue, you feel that big hot bubble in your lower belly snap, you cry out, each pulse of the orgasm making you tighter around his fingers. 

jihoon couldn't shake the feeling of unease as he watched you get up from his bed, your movements quiet and subdued after your intense orgasm. the post-orgasm glow faded too quickly.

“where do you think you’re going?” he asked as he pulled you back down onto the bed. you landed softly, your eyes wide and innocent as you frowned at him.

“i’m… leaving?” you said, trying to keep your tone light.

he exhaled sharply, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment as he fought against the frustration. “you’re only saying that because of how i made you leave the last time, aren’t you?”

you shifted slightly, looking away as if the truth was too difficult to face. “maybe..” you admitted softly, and that single word made his heart sink.

“i’m sorry about that,” he said, sincerity lacing his tone. “i miss those tutoring classes, you know? i didn't mean to push you away like that. it’s just… i think—”

“you think?” you shot back, crossing your arms defiantly. “you told me not to come after you unless i wanted a good fuck. not very delicate.”

“that was a mistake,” he insisted, as he searched your eyes. “i didn’t think it would end up like this. i thought we were just messing around.” he ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident on his face. “but i want more than that. i like having you around.”

you looked at him, your expression softening just a little. “so, what? you want to tutor me again? pretend like we didn’t just…” you trailed off.

“no,” he replied firmly. “i want to be honest with you. i want you to want me, not just as a way to fill some need… just like i want you.” he paused, gathering his thoughts.

“so you’re just going to keep me here, like this?” you asked, tilting your head. 

“if you’ll let me,” he replied. “just stay.”

“you really think it’s that easy? just because we had one good round?”

“it’s not just about the sex,” he said, getting nearer. “i want to explore more than that, but only if you’re willing.”

“and if i’m not?” you asked.

“then i guess i’ll have to work a little harder to change your mind,” he teased lightly.

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile creeping onto your lips. “good luck with that, jihoon. i’m not that easy.”

“i never thought you were,” he smirked, leaning closer. “but i’m willing to put in the effort. so, what’s it gonna be?”

you bit your lip, “maybe i’ll stick around for a little while longer,” you replied, leaning back into the bed with a teasing smile.

“good choice.”

[dadvans]

when I want to run away (I drive off in my car) [bucktommy]

Chimney comes over with an armful of DVDs. Mandated brother-in-law break-up bonding time. Buck is pretty sure that isn’t a thing, at least not the kind that Chimney seems to be suggesting with what are discernibly all romcom titles. Buck is pretty sure Chimney should be taking him out and getting him wasted and encouraging him to get laid, but then again he’s friends with Tommy too so there might be some allegiance at play here.

He groans when Chimney puts on Say Anything.

“What, you actually know a movie made before 2012?”

“Tommy loves this one,” Buck replies. There had been a showing at repertory cinema in July and Tommy had dragged them both to escape the afternoon heat. It had been… sweet. There had maybe been three other people in the place who ignored them in the back row, making out like teenagers.

“Yeah, he’s always been a secret softie,” Chimney says.

“I’d say you should be over at his place with these,” Buck continues, flipping through the titles. Love Actually. The Proposal. Crazy, Stupid, Love. “These are actually his favorites. Wait, was I your second choice?”

“What? No,” Chimney says, but he sounds kind of cagey about it.

“He’s probably too busy cliff diving or BASE jumping.” Buck drops the DVDs. “He was the one who dumped me, remember? I don’t think he’s too hung up to need a chick flick movie marathon.”

“Now that is not true. Secret softie, remember? He’s hurting as much as I’ve ever seen, he just doesn’t wear it on his sleeve like some people.” Chimney gives him a very pointed look. “I bet he stood outside your door a half hour after he left hoping you’d chase after him, feeling like a total idiot.”

That’s new. “Did he tell you that?”

Chimney shrugs. “Maybe not verbatim, but he may have let something slip in a moment of total weakness.”

Buck snorts. “So, what are you doing over here with me and these then?”

“I was maybe hoping I could inspire you into some of your usual Buck heroics,” Chimney admits, then has the gall to look offended when Buck twists to stare at him, confused. “What? I’m a meddler. I notoriously meddle. C’mon, he said some things he wishes he could take back, but maybe he’s not as confident as you give him credit for. He’s a romcom guy. He could use a little woo-ing too, you know. Someone who makes him feel like he’s worth fighting for. A big gesture! Not—not moving in or anything, but just—you see what I’m saying here?”

Buck stares at young John Cusack paused on his TV screen and smiles to himself. “Yeah, I think I might.”

He spends the rest of the day off his couch driving through half the pawn shops in Glendale before he finds himself, sun setting at his back, outside Tommy’s house. He parks between Tommy’s truck in the drive and walks down the sidewalk where Tommy’s kitchen window is lit up and open.

Tommy comes outside thirty seconds later to the sound of Peter Gabriel blasting out of the second hand stereo Buck’d finally found with an aux input at St. Vincent de Paul’s. His mouth twitches as he crosses his arms before he coughs and tucks his head down, briefly.

“Really?” He asks when he blinks back up at Buck, eyes wet like the last time Buck saw him: hope there, fleeting, wanting so badly to swim to the surface and stay. “Wait, did you plug your phone into that thing?”

“Yeah,” Buck says, loud enough over the music the whole neighborhood can probably hear him. “I don’t know how to burn CDs.”

Tommy’s smile finally cracks through, and he nods before taking several careful steps across his dead lawn, feet bare, so he can get two tentative hands on Buck’s hips. “Well, if you want to come inside,” he says, “I can show you.”

[thef1diary]

Language Of Leaves | F. Colapinto

Summary: Franco begrudgingly agrees to watch your plants, but caring for them leads him to realize he’s growing just as attached to you.

warnings: fluff, a few spanish sentences - w translation (correct me if it’s wrong!)

wc: 3k

masterlist

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate or repost any of my work.

Franco had been wholly reluctant from the moment you asked him to take care of your plants. The request hadn’t even fully left your lips before he shook his head, immediately retreating a step, his hands raised as though warding off some ludicrous proposal.

“¿Estás loca?” (are you crazy?) he’d exclaimed, his brows furrowing in exaggerated disbelief. “You’re asking the wrong person here, I would kill your plants without even realizing. They don’t want me around, trust me.” He looked at the leafy green oasis you had so carefully tended to with a mix of apprehension and resignation, like the plants themselves were quietly mocking him from their pots.

But you knew Franco well, you knew that if you pressed just a little, his tough facade would soften. So, you laid it on thick, giving him that soft, pleading expression that he could never quite resist when it came to you. You looked at him with those big, hopeful eyes, layering in just a hint of sadness. “Franco, please. My plants will wither without someone to care for them. Leaving them alone for two whole weeks… it’d be like abandoning children.”

Your words seemed to strike a nerve. He hesitated, his gaze flicking back to the plants and then to you, a faint crack appearing in his armor. You could practically see the thought unfolding in his mind—imagining you returning home to drooping, lifeless plants, the beautiful greenery reduced to a shadow of what it had been. His resistance wavered.

And then you delivered the final blow: a tiny, almost-mournful pout. You knew it was his Achilles’ heel, the expression that always seemed to make him relent, no matter how absurd the request.

Franco sighed—a long, dramatic sigh, muttering under his breath as he glanced away, pretending as if he hadn’t already lost this battle. Finally, he held out his hand for the paper in yours, grumbling all the while, “fine. Solo por dos semanas.” (only for two weeks)

Franco took the paper with a resigned sigh, eyeing it skeptically as he skimmed the instructions. You had done your best to make it as straightforward as possible, keeping the notes to simple instructions for sunlight and water. Still, he seemed to regard even this minimal guidance as a daunting task, his brows furrowing with each line he read. You could practically see his mind racing, piecing together the responsibility you were trusting him with, and how high the stakes suddenly felt.

But since he had already agreed—thanks to that soft pout of yours he couldn’t resist—he knew it was too late to back out now. He folded the paper carefully and gave you a look, one last attempt to salvage his pride. “I’ll try my best, okay? But if you come back and a plant or two doesn’t make it, that’s not my fault.”

There was a slight smirk on his face, though, as if he was secretly determined to prove himself wrong, to come through for you.

You lean in and press a quick, warm kiss to his cheek, murmuring a soft, “thank you, Franco.” The gesture is small, but the effect is immediate. A flush rises to his cheeks, painting them a rosy pink that he tries to hide by looking away. He clears his throat, obviously flustered, and rubs the back of his neck as though the warmth spreading there might somehow disappear if he just ignores it.

He lets out a low cough, shifting his stance uncomfortably, and mutters, “Yeah, yeah… don’t mention it,” his voice gruff, but betrayed by the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Before you can say anything else, he gives a quick nod and ends the conversation right there, stuffing the paper in his pocket as though ready to make his escape before you see just how much your kiss affected him.

When you finally left for your trip, Franco lingered in the doorway of your apartment, taking in the quiet space that was now his responsibility. He moved to the middle of the room, staring down at the list you’d left him. The handwriting was familiar, your looping letters filling the space with gentle reminders and careful instructions, but it was the little doodles that captured his attention.

You’d sketched a happy monstera leaf next to its name, a tiny sun with a smiling face by the plants that needed more light, and even raindrops beside those that liked extra water. He found his fingers drifting over the paper, tracing each drawing, a small smile creeping onto his face. “Qué linda…” (how cute) he murmured before catching himself and pulling his hand back with a quick cough.

“They’re just plants, Franco,” he told himself under his breath, trying to brush off the warmth in his chest. Still, he couldn’t deny that the thought of you sitting down to make this list—carefully, as if you were entrusting him with a life-or-death mission—made him feel… something.

The first day was straightforward enough. He followed each instruction you’d left to the letter, checking off each plant on your list and measuring out water carefully. Some plants didn’t need watering every day, so he noted the days with reminders on his phone. He’d warned you he wasn’t the best plant sitter, after all, and the last thing he wanted was to accidentally prove himself right.

As each day passed, he found himself coming over more often than necessary. Even on days when only one or two plants needed watering, Franco would still make the trip, convincing himself it was “just in case.” What if something went wrong overnight? What if he’d missed something? He checked each plant like they were little patients, leaning close to inspect the soil.

By the fourth day, he was getting into a rhythm. He began with the smaller plants, crouching down to check the moisture in their soil. If it felt too dry, he gave them a splash of water; if it seemed damp, he left them alone.

But then he reached your monstera, the plant you considered your prized possession. He stilled, a strange sensation of dread creeping over him as he noticed the edges of the leaves starting to turn yellow, a slight droop to the usually vibrant foliage. His heart dropped.

“¡Mierda!” (shit) he muttered, kneeling down to inspect the damage. “No, no, no…” Panic crept into his chest as he pictured you coming home to find a mess of dying plants. He knew how much these plants meant to you; you tended to them with such devotion, treating each one like it was a beloved pet.

“No me hagas esto, por favor. ¿Qué te hice?” (Don’t do this to me, please. What did I do to you?) His fingers brushed over one of the yellowed edges, his brow furrowing as he searched for any clue. “I swear, I followed everything she wrote down,” he muttered, almost like he was trying to reassure the plant—and himself. He took out the list and reread the instructions for the monstera, scanning the page as if a hidden solution would suddenly appear.

The room fell silent, save for his own low muttering as he kept inspecting the monstera, turning the pot gently and studying each leaf like a doctor checking a patient’s pulse. “Okay, maybe it needs a little less water? Or more light?” He tried everything he could think of, even nudging the pot slightly closer to the window. “Dios mío,” (my god) he breathed, wiping a hand over his face. “She’s going to kill me if it wilts.”

But then he paused, remembering something else.

Franco looked around at your cozy, plant-filled home, feeling a mix of anxiety and determination. He remembered how you’re always doting on these plants, cradling each one gently as you water or trim leaves. He’d always found it amusing, the way you’d coo at it as if it were a pet, fingers lightly brushing over its leaves, calling it mi bebé, whispering reassurances in a soft voice, and he’s never missed the way your face lights up whenever one of them sprouts a new leaf or a flower bud.

Franco never understood it, thought it was just some odd habit. But now, facing the wilting monstera, he wondered if maybe it wasn’t as silly as he’d thought.

He cleared his throat, feeling utterly ridiculous. “Alright, monstruo,” he muttered, using a nickname he’d given the big, leafy plant.

“We’re gonna make this work, ¿sí? No más hojas amarillas, ¿entendido?” (Yes? No more yellow leaves, understood?) He felt silly, but if talking to them helped even a little, he was willing to try.

“She really loves you, ¿sabes? She’d hate to see you like this.” (you know) He reached out and gently touched one of the yellowing leaves, his hand lingering there, almost as if he were holding its hand.

He could picture you now, laughing at him for talking to a plant—to your plant—but he kept going anyway. “I’ll do better, okay? Whatever you need. More sun, less water, whatever it takes. Just… hang in there. Don’t make me break her heart.”

He sat back on his heels, staring at the monstera for a moment longer. He felt strangely connected to it, like he’d made a pact, a silent agreement between them.

In the days that followed, Franco grew more and more attached, unconsciously mimicking the little rituals he’d seen you do. He hummed softly under his breath as he watered, sometimes even pausing to glance at the list you’d left, your handwriting now familiar and endearing to him.

He no longer approached your plants like a checklist to get through. Instead, he slowed down, taking the time to touch each leaf and test the soil carefully with his fingers, just like he’d seen you do a hundred times.

When he came across your spider plant, a small and slightly finicky one that he’d once jokingly called “the diva” because of its stubborn leaves, he paused, lightly brushing his thumb over the thin, arching fronds. “You’re giving me more trouble than all the others combined, you know that?” he said, his voice softer than before, almost like he was confiding in it. “But I get it… you’re probably used to her touch, not mine.”

Each day, he began to greet them with a quiet “hola,” as if entering a room full of familiar faces. He knew the way you did it, how you’d walk in and give each plant a little greeting or a compliment. And now he found himself doing the same thing. “Looking good,” he’d mutter as he checked the moisture of your jade plant, nodding approvingly, even though it was just a plant in silence.

The last thing Franco expected was to miss you. But somewhere between fussing over your plants and memorizing every instruction you’d left behind, he started to notice the silence. Your laughter, your endless chatter about plant care, the way you’d smile as you talked about each one like it had a personality—all of it lingered in the empty spaces of your home, making it feel strangely hollow.

He never said it out loud, but as much as he protested, he enjoyed coming over, having coffee with you as you arranged your plants, rambling about which ones needed more light, which were delicate, and which were “just a little dramatic.” You’d look at him with that soft, knowing smile as he pretended not to care, and though he’d grumble about “too many plants,” he never left without sneaking one last look at your little green haven.

He wondered how you’d react if he managed to keep them all alive. A small part of him—a part he tried not to examine too closely—wanted to see your face light up when you saw the plants, thriving and green, as if he’d managed to preserve something precious to you.

Sitting there on your living room carpet, surrounded by all these green, leafy “babies” you’d entrusted to him, he realized he wasn’t just daydreaming about your reaction to the plants. He found himself wondering what it would be like to be here with you, to share these quiet mornings side by side, maybe with a cup of coffee and your gentle teasing. He imagined your hand on his arm, laughing at his sudden “attachment” to your beloved green haven, and he felt a pang of longing he couldn’t ignore.

Franco had always admired you, but these past two weeks had somehow made him feel closer to you, made him wonder what it would be like if he weren’t just a friend.

He wasn’t sure when it happened, but somewhere along the way, he stopped seeing these plants as “yours” and started treating them like they were his responsibility too.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, your two-week trip came to an end. It was well past midnight when you let yourself in, leaving your suitcase by the door as you spotted a lit lamp in the otherwise dark apartment. You padded softly down the hall, stifling a yawn, but stopped in your tracks at the sight that awaited you.

There, in the middle of your living room, was Franco, sound asleep on the floor. His back was against the sofa, his head lolling to one side, and in his hands were two of your plants—your small, temperamental spider plant and your “drama queen” fern. Even in his sleep, he cradled them carefully, as if afraid one wrong move might damage them.

You couldn’t help but smile, taking in the sight of him nestled between your plants, his face softened in sleep, looking far more at peace than you’d ever seen him. You stepped a little closer, crouching down and noticed the smudges of soil on his hands and the slight disarray of the room, as if he’d gone through a nightly ritual of checking on each plant before dozing off right there on the floor.

As you reached out, your fingers barely grazing a stray curl from his forehead, he stirred, eyes fluttering open, his gaze meeting yours. His sleepy, unfocused eyes sharpened as he realized you were there, inches away, and a hint of surprise flickered in them.

“Ah… estás aquí,” (you’re here) he muttered as he realized he was still holding onto your plants.

A faint blush colored his cheeks as he placed them gently beside him, his fingers lingering on the leaves as if reluctant to let go.

You both remained close, his sleepy eyes meeting yours, and suddenly the room felt charged, every inch between you alive with an unspoken electricity. He didn’t move away, and neither did you. The silence was warm, thick with all the things you hadn’t yet said, every shared glance and lingering touch from before echoing in this small, tender space between you.

“I didn’t expect to find you like this,” you whispered, the words coming out softer than you intended.

He laughed lightly, the sound rumbling low in his chest as he leaned back, eyes not leaving yours. “I didn’t expect to get so… attached,” he admitted, his voice dropping, a hint of something more in his tone.

A small smile tugged at your lips, and you raised an eyebrow, teasing. “To the plants or…?”

His gaze flickered down to the fern beside him for a moment, and then back to you, as if he could no longer resist the pull drawing you closer. “They were good company,” he murmured, his voice softer now, like he was confessing something he’d been holding back, “but… I meant you.”

Your smile softened, and before you could second-guess yourself, you had leaned in, bridging the last inches between you until your head was nestled gently against his chest. He shifted to hold you, his arms wrapping around you naturally, as if they’d been waiting for this moment. You could feel his heartbeat beneath your cheek, steady but just a bit faster than usual, mirroring your own.

He tightened his hold around you, one hand settling at the small of your back while the other drifted upward, his fingers trailing gently along your spine. The touch was unhurried, almost reverent, as if he were savoring the simple act of holding you close.

You let yourself relax fully into his embrace, feeling the way his fingers seemed to map out a quiet symphony along your spine. There was a tenderness in his touch, a kind of reverence that made you feel like this moment was as meaningful to him as it was to you.

“Franco…” you whispered, the word barely leaving your lips as his gaze flicked to your lips, lingering in a way that made the room feel smaller, more intimate. His thumb brushed against your side, an almost absent-minded gesture, yet one that spoke volumes, as if he was trying to memorize every inch of you with the tips of his fingers.

He leaned in, his forehead resting gently against yours, and for a heartbeat, the world outside faded, leaving only the soft rise and fall of his breath mingling with yours. His eyes closed briefly, like he was savoring the closeness, and when they opened, his gaze was deeper, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“I missed you,” he murmured, his tone laced with a sincerity that sent a thrill through you, making you forget everything but the warmth of his presence.

A faint smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “I missed you too,” you whispered, your thumb gently grazing his cheek.

Franco’s hand slid to the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair as he tilted his head slightly, his lips brushing against your forehead in a soft, lingering kiss. The moment hung between you, suspended in time, gentle and full of unspoken promises.

When he pulled back just enough to look at you, his smile was warm, content. There was no rush, no need for words anymore. Just the quiet understanding between you, as if the silence said everything that needed to be said.

And in that silence, you both stayed, savoring the peace of finally being close in a way you hadn’t been before.

taglist: @blakebearsblog @arieslost @lilorose25 @jamieeboulos @cinderellawithashoe @spreadyourwings-my-smiling-angel

[polyacrylamidepensieve]

Oh my god what dx said about residency and becoming a doctor and being self conscious about not having been exposed to most movies, shows, and music - been feeling so self conscious about my tastes in everything. Was recently told that a lot of my tastes are just plain bad, and it has me questioning everything. T is a somewhat sheltered white kid who always thought fish wasn’t supposed to taste like anything until I introduced them to fish tofu, but they resented the very idea of guiding me through movies and music they liked - said they wanted a partner, not someone they needed to “teach” about good music and plot holes. And I’m still smarting from that. Maybe next year I’ll finally get around to all of the Star Wars movies, and Star Trek, and the rest of LOTR, and and and…

But until then I rly am hoping I someday find someone who is as excited to share their favorite media with me as dx’s partner was. And maybe even someone who will watch my favorite chinese historical dramas with me, as well as my favorite anime, and introduce me to amazing new movies.

T did introduce me to a few incredible movies, which is why I feel so bad about them not liking anything I showed them. Feels a bit like my tastes are just - less refined in general. But I don’t really even know where to start, since it’s not like my parents exactly watch a ton of american movies or would let me watch tv or movies growing up. The things my parents have exposed me to are mostly korean dramas and nature shows. My dad is a huge romantic and loves Dido and Celine Dion. Not exactly helpful as a jumping off point, though certainly lovely sounding music? like I never quite figured out what there is to hate about most music. Heavy metal screamo makes my blood pressure rise, and I don’t relate to country, but… how else do other people even judge music? I usually like most things I listen to, unless they raise my blood pressure by being severely discordant or whiny / off pitch. I even love classical, having played the piano since I was 5.

Been wanting to read all of Pratchett for years. Have not gotten around to it… but finally read the first discworld book recently and it was awesome. And Neil Gaiman is practically my favorite author, so ofc I loved loved Good Omens.

Okay so this is a big deal

To me, and to a significant subset of Sir Terry's fans (including most of you who've found this by the tags), his writing is serious commentary on the human condition - politics, prejudice, self-control, revenge vs. justice, religion, idealism, faith in people vs. cynicism, and more - dressed up with fantasy settings and a hefty leavening of humor to make it fun to read. And it is WILDLY fun to read, actual laugh-out-loud or at least a snicker averaging about every page.

But there's this common idea among the "important literature" people that fun and funny books are not also worthwhile or important in the same way.

This is a Discworld book being released WITH ACADEMIC COMMENTARY and AS A PENGUIN CLASSIC. That's a HUGE amount of recognition.

[casdeans-pie]

AU where Dean is the Michael Sword but meaning that he’s actually genuinely an angelic weapon given human form

--------

"Am I even human?" Dean wants to sound angry - he wants to sound furious - but his words come out as broken as he feels inside.

Cas says nothing for such a long time that Dean nearly tells him to just go, but before he can spit the words out, Cas stiffly climbs up next to him and joins him on Baby's hood.

All the fight deflates out of Dean in an instant.

A Fallen Angel and an Angel's Sword sit side by side on a car in the middle of the night. It sounds like the worst set up to an even worse punchline.

"Guess I've got more in common with you than I have with either of them..." Dean says bitterly, gesturing back at Bobby's house.

Cas clasps his hands neatly over his knees and sighs. "Dean, do you know why the Michael Sword is so powerful?"

"I dunno, 'cause I'm awesome?"

Cas throws him such a flat look that Dean can't help the tiny smile it brings out him. It fades quickly.

Cas jabs him in the shoulder - the same shoulder the handprint is on - and it lances a jolt of something electric down his spine.

"Wh- hey!" Dean swats Cas's finger away and rubs at his shoulder, hoping Cas won't notice the red blooming on his face in the dark.

"Listen to me, Dean. The Michael Sword is so strong because it's powered by a human soul - it's own human soul - yours. You have flesh and blood. You have thoughts and feelings. You are human."

Dean feels the full intensity of Cas's gaze as it's directed at him, and he is powerless to turn away. He's caught by blue eyes and an earnestness he's never seen in Cas's expression before.

"You're stubborn, you're defensive, impulsive, brave, selfless- you're the most human person I know," Cas adds, something catching in his usually stoic voice.

Dean huffs out a startled laugh. "The most human person you know..." he repeats, amusement and affection spreading like warmth through his whole body. He clears his throat. "Thanks, Cas."

"Besides," Cas rumbles, a note of pride slipping in, "I rebuilt your entire body myself, so I know for a fact that it is chemically and biologically identical to a regular human body."

Dean loudly snorts another laugh. "See, now you've just made it weird."

Cas reaches over and gently holds Dean's hand, palm up, in his own. The move is so unexpected that Dean's brain appears to go immediately offline and all he can do is suck in a quiet breath.

Cas moves his fingers gently, one by one, and presses onto the pads of his fingertips, while Dean can hear his own heartbeat between his ears.

"Uh-" Dean finally manages. Great. Nice. Useful.

"It may be difficult to understand, but you are as much this man of flesh and blood as you are Angelic steel," Cas says gently. His fingers continue to press across Dean's hand, as if now he's started he can't stop. "I've noticed that you are a very tactile person, and you respond well to touch. I'm attempting to ground you in this moment. Is it working?"

Dean wants to immediately deny it and snatch his hand back, but he pushes down the reflex and watches Cas trace the lines across his calloused palm. He takes a deep breath. "Yeah."

Cas doesn't let go and Dean doesn't pull away.

When the experience starts to feel too much Dean weaves their fingers together and looks up at the stars, knowing Cas will be able to feel how sweaty his palm is, and can probably hear the way his heart is slamming against his ribcage.

"Am I at least cool looking, as a sword?" Dean eventually asks, breaking the silence. He turns back to Cas and throws him a small grin.

Cas's eyes roam across his face, almost seeming to bore into him like he can see beneath his flesh. Maybe he can.

"Yes, Dean," Cas replies, the ghost of a smile twitching at the corner of his lips, "you always look 'cool'."

[lightseoul]

Hello! For your event can i get #11 ?

hello, sure! this took quite a while for me to get around to doing, but i hope the wait was worth it <3 thank you for playing!

(this is lightseoul’s 2k milestone event ft. bakugou katsuki! to play, view the numbered list of prompts here, then simply send an ask with your chosen number and i’ll whip something up!)

warnings. minors dni, please!

11. "IS THAT MY SHIRT?" (1.4k)

under other circumstances, today would’ve been filed under the non-descript mornings with which you start your unremarkable days.

the sun is barely peeking through the curtains, the temperature is not too cold but not too hot, and you’re buried in freshly washed bedding that smells divine.

and so it’s not really your fault for thinking for a modicum of a second that today was just like any other day.

if it weren’t for the muscled arm slung across your bare waist.

you’re yanked from your half-asleep stupor the second you see it, and you jolt in shock before you can stop yourself. the man beside you, thankfully, doesn’t stir awake.

with wide eyes, you chance a glance at the decidedly naked person next to you (if your sense of touch wasn’t betraying you), and the sight that greets you nearly makes you faint.

because what the fuck are you doing in bed—naked—with the bakugou katsuki?

suddenly the areas where your skin meets his are becoming way too hot, and you’re hit with the visceral urge to get away from the man.

and so as discreetly and quietly as you can, you lift the arm that’s wrapped around your midriff, but freeze when his grip tightens and he shifts every so minutely. sneaking a peek again, now at his face, you study the man with caution as his eyebrows furrow for a beat before they relax along with the rest of his features.

you don’t allow yourself to revel in how peaceful he looks, or dwell on the fact that you may have just fucked this man last night, choosing to try again and wrestle yourself out of his hold. to your relief, he doesn’t resist, even in slumber, and you’re able to slide out of the bed with minimal noise and motion, thanks to his firm, exquisite mattress.

you wonder how firm it proved to be last night…

you mentally slap yourself.

now is not the time to be horny.

it instantly dawns on you how naked you are, standing in this man’s bedroom fully bare, and so you scan the room for any sign of your undergarments and clothing. it doesn’t take you a while to spot your panties, and then your bra a few seconds later—both of which are notably plain and not at all sexy. you try to fight the cringe as you shimmy into them—obviously, you didn’t anticipate getting any action yesterday—eyes darting across the area in search of your shirt. they finally land on the black article that’s unceremoniously sprawled across near the foot of the bed, and you waste no time putting it on.

and as you find your trousers and squeeze yourself into them, you let your brain wander to what got you here in the first place.

you remember being strung along by your girlfriends into that exclusive bar that’s said to be frequented by many pro-heroes. you don’t know how your designated planner friend managed to get you guys entry, but you didn’t question it, choosing to just enjoy the atmosphere and drink good booze with good company.

in fact, you may have drunk too much good booze because your memory drifts in and out a few hours into settling into a booth in the bar. you recall one friend pointing to a group of three men who looked suspiciously like pro-heroes cellophane, red riot, and dynamight, as well as you laughing at how it couldn’t be.

you wince at the memory of said friend, who knows about the big, fat, embarrassing crush you have on the ash-blonde hero, dragging you to where they sat and introducing yourselves to the men.

at that point, you were tipsy and bordering on drunk, and dead convinced that they were just wannabes who wanted to look like their hero idols. but the guy with the crimson eyes that were notably boring into you looked too much like bakugou that you threw all caution to the wind and just went along with it, too curious about the person in front of you.

but now, as you stand smack dab in the middle of this pristine bedroom that can only belong to a very highly-paid, famously all-might-loving hero, you’re flooded by a wave of dizzying nausea.

dizzying nausea that doubles up when your eyes catch the ridiculously sculpted arms of the man who’s still lying on his stomach, seemingly fast asleep.

you can relive and fact-check your fantasies later, when you’re alone and in the safety of your much more modest apartment unit, but not now.

and so with a slightly heavy heart, you turn around and silently twist the knob, ready to tiptoe the hell out of his room with your purse in tow.

but all hopes of making a quiet exit get thrown out of his bougie-ass windows when the door fucking creaks so loud, that you don’t have to look behind you to know that the man just shot awake.

you stand there, frozen with your back turned against him, for what feels like forever, before ultimately deciding that you can’t just walk out the door now like nothing happened lest you come off as a fucking lunatic.

and so with a deep inhale, you steel yourself for the incoming shitshow, and turn.

you try not to stare at his crazy, stupid, built torso or his beautiful face that’s looking all too stunned as you awkwardly gesture to the door.

“you ought to lubricate this door of yours,” you quip, capping it with a laugh, although it comes out stilted.

and when he doesn’t say anything, “…sorry i woke you up.”

that must’ve been enough to sober him up, because he finally speaks up. “shit—no, i—”

he cuts himself off as he scrambles to get up, and you turn around just in time to not see his dick dangle as he searched for his boxers. you hear rustling and things being turned upside down as you wait for him to get dressed.

“just a sec,” he calls out, before: “have you seen my—is that my shirt?”

before you can think better against it, you whip around to look at where he’s gesturing, only to be met with him, now in his boxer shorts, staring straight at you.

“wha—?”

you look down to where his gaze is fixed, and sure enough, the shirt you’re wearing is decisively not yours.

“fuck—” you start, flaming in embarrassment, “i’m sorry, i thought it was mine. i—let me just—” you trail off just as your eyes land on another black shirt near your feet, and you’re about to scoop it up and turn and hurriedly strip off his shirt when he speaks up.

“no, it’s okay.” you freeze, bent over and hand just barely having grasped the shirt off the floor. and when he doesn’t say anything, you slowly straighten up, fighting to maintain eye contact.

he’s scowling now.

“you don’t have to scurry like a fucking rat, dumbass,” he spits, although there’s not much bite to it. he’s looking a tad bit embarrassed, too. hesitating for a second, he diverts his gaze, before: “can’t i at least cook you breakfast?”

you pick up your jaw that just dropped to the floor as fast as you can. “you—you mean you don’t want me to leave just yet?”

at that, he scoffs. “what do you take me for, a fuckboy?”

he says it so incredulously you almost snort. instead, you cock your head a bit to the right, not entirely able to deny your impressions of him.

“seriously?” he splutters for a beat, before sighing in resignation. shaking his head, he finally shifts to meet your eyes and regard you, the switch in the air to that of palpable seriousness so potent.

“i don’t normally do this,” he states, gaze remaining fixed on yours, as if he’s trying to communicate the rest with just his eyes.

you don’t have to ask him what ‘this’ means.

and so you reply just as honestly. “me, neither.”

neither of you says anything for a brief moment, the revelations from both of you taking up the small space between.

“so,” bakugou breaks the silence eventually, “breakfast?”

[socksracoon10]

𝐇𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐮𝐧

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦… 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵. Pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr. x F!Reader, Charles Leclerc x F!Reader, Max Verstappen x F!Reader A/N: Alright gang, I caved like I said I would, here's my first f1 fic lmao Read The Second Part: Hit and Run (Part 2)

𝘾𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙤𝙨 𝙎𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙯 𝙅𝙧.

"You had a pretty nasty crash with (Y/N) (L/N) during qualifying today, do you have any words to share about the collision?" A reporter had asked Carlos, bringing the microphone closer to his lips. Boy did he have words, a very strong choice of them that he desperately wanted to spew out on national television. He bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes focusing in on the said driver just a few feet from where he stood. She was most likely giving her side of the story to the press, and it boiled his blood. He wanted to be nice, he wanted to be supportive. He liked to welcome everyone into the sport, make them feel like they belonged. Yet all his efforts to try and be the better person went down the drain as soon as she had rammed into him on track. That was his final straw. If it wasn't for the fact that she had been getting much more cocky during interviews, talking about how Carlos was an easy opponent and was practically no competition to her, he would've let this crash slide. His eyes drifted back to the patient reporter and he shook his head,

"I don't uh... want to talk about it. It happened, let's leave it at that." He sighed, shrugging his shoulders. The reporter furrowed his brows, a doubtful pout on his lips as he tilted his head,

"Interesting you say that. (L/N) had a lot more to say."

"Oh, did she now?" Carlos raised an eyebrow; he couldn't help the way his body turned to completely face the reporter, his curiosity taking over him. He wanted to know what that idiot must've said to the press.

"She said, and I quote, 'Even if you give Carlos a million practices, he'll still fumble the bag like he did today...' what are your thoughts, Carlos?"

Carlos gaped at the reporter, his mind reeling with at least a thousand different responses, each of them having to deal with the fact that he was racing against an absolute asshole but he shook his head, trying to calm himself down. He knew his words would have weight, and he figured he might as well let her have fun for the time being. Let her have that confidence boost that she desired so strongly.

"Well, we'll see how it plays out during the race." Carlos snapped, forcing a thin smile before heading out of the press pen. 𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙇𝙚𝙘𝙡𝙚𝙧𝙘

Charles was having a wonderful weekend. Had P1 in all the practice sessions, got pole for qualifying and he was set to the win the race. He was so happy and hopeful, he knew that after a long while he was going to taste victory. Carlos had draped his arm over Charles's shoulder, giving it a little squeeze before exclaiming, "You're going to win tomorrow, I can feel it."

And then in came (Y/N) (L/N) like the absolute hurricane that she was, bopping her head to whatever stupid song was playing in her headphones. She glanced over to him, taking off one side of her headphones before scanning him from head to toe,

"You think I'd look good in red?" She asked, her head still moving side to side as she hummed with the song. Charles didn't understand it at first, and he frowned before it eventually clicked in his head,

"You'll never be in Ferrari," He scoffed, and she snorted,

"We'll see about that."

And see he did when he saw her coming up right behind him, ready to overtake him on the turn coming up, only to lose her grip and crash into him. As both cars spun towards the barriers, it wasn't hard to miss the way Charles began to scream over the radio, his voice hoarse and dry from the fact that all his hopes were diminished within seconds. He scrambled out of his bottled car and headed towards (L/N) who was looking over at her own car's damage. "You fool! You moron! What were you doing?" Charles roared, and she turned around with an exasperated sigh, "Trying to overtake you, and then I lost grip." She crossed her arms, and Charles clenched his fists, taking another step towards her, "You leave space! Leave space! I literally-" "Oh, quit whining. What's done is done, you can't be wallowing over it," She scoffed and as Charles was just about ready to shove her onto the ground, some of the marshals jogged over to break up the fight.

"You're lucky I didn't break your face," Charles spat, feeling the marshals drag him away. He glanced over his shoulder to see (L/N) mirroring his glare. He watched her lips twist into a scowl before she was taken out of his sight.

"We're sorry about that crash, Charles," A reporter sighed, shaking her head as she gave him a look of sympathy.

"I'm sorry for (L/N) for the next few races," Charles bit back, knowing that he was going to give it his all during the next race. 𝙈𝙖𝙭 𝙑𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙣

A championship battle would've been much easier to win over an argument with (Y/N) (L/N). Max had figured that out the hard way. He had the fastest lap and was just about ready to overtake (L/N) when she had suddenly divebombed randomly into him, forcing him into the barriers. Max was beyond just pissed, he was fuming. He had never felt such strong rage in a very long time, and as he hopped out of his car with the help of the marshals, he knew he was about to start a war back at the garage. He had dropped his gloves onto the floor, shoved the helmet onto the ground before ripping off his balaclava with one intention in his mind: sort out whatever bullshit (L/N) kept bringing into these races. She was only 6th in the driver standings, but she sure acted like she was 2nd and that only did little to calm Max's anger. He had marched over to her team's garage much to the chagrin of those with him at Red Bull Racing.

"So, are we letting blind people race now?" Max barked, and he watched (L/N) crane her neck to get a good look at the man approaching her. She stood her ground, crossing her arms with that cocky look on her face. It drove Max wild looking at her, he hated her guts.

"Listen, it just happens. My bad," She put her hands in the air, taking a step back as she noticed Max losing his mind.

"Just happens? Just... happens? Seriously? Are you fucking stupid? That shouldn't be happening! I have a championship to win and you just ruined it for me!" "Hey, I DNF'd too. We're both in the same boat," (L/N) exclaimed.

"I'm fighting for the championship, you're fighting to secure your seat for the next season because you are nothing but shit!" Max hissed which earned a couple gasps from those at the garage. Within seconds he was dragged back to Red Bull Racing's garage, but he couldn't help but notice the smirk on her face. A part of him wondered if she did it on purpose. After all, (Y/N) (L/N) had nothing to lose at the moment so it wouldn't surprise him. He sank down onto a chair, impatiently tapping his foot as he watched the race continue without him.

He couldn't wait to wipe that smirk off her face next time.

[subcultureblues]

Don’t You Want Me (Baby?) Pt 1

Steve and Eddie have been hooking up and are about as bad at keeping a secret as they are dealing with their feelings. (Dustin POV)

———

“For the record, I still think this is dumb.” Lucas said over the wind.

“Yeah, well, you’re dumb.” Mike said, sharp witted as always.

“Got you there.” Will grinned, sidling up beside him on his bike. Mike shot him a look, vaguely betrayed. Will shrugged innocently and kept peddling.

“Alright, alright, let the court record reflect you’re both morons.” Dustin sighed, peddling between the bickerer’s bikes and cutting ahead.

All four boys skirted to a stop outside the trailer park. Dustin wiped at his forehead under his cap, the humidity creeping back up on them as soon as the air stopped it’s rushing by.

“Dude, if Eddie wasn’t picking up the phone, well, there’s probably a reason for that.” Lucas said, in that tone of his. The demeaning one.

Dustin just shook his head. Name one good reason to ignore your party? One good reason. Dustin certainly couldn’t!

He started walking his bike up through the dusty lot, leaving the rest with little choice but to march ever onward.

“Maybe he’s still sleeping.” Will said, lingering a bit behind the pack.

“At 1 in the afternoon?” Lucas rolled his eyes.

“What? He does, like,” Mike’s voice dropped to a paranoid whisper. “weed, right? Jonathan’s always sleeping in?” Mike looked behind them at Will, who shrugged.

“Eddie,” Dustin said his name rather uncharitably but he’s at his limit here, really, he is “has been dodgy weeks now. Doesn’t answer the phone, he’s never free on the weekend, never hangs out after Hellfire anymore - I’m telling you guys, somethings up.”

“Or maybe - he’s finally graduated after the third try and he’s tired of hanging around high schoolers all the time.” Lucas rolled his eyes.

Dustin shook his head at Lucas, because that can’t be it. Eddie loves them. Well, he loves Dustin and likes the rest of Hellfire’s fresh meat well enough. They bonded, alright? - after everything they went through in the Upside Down. Hell, they’re practically brothers. And it’s not just Dustin who thinks that, Eddie had said it first. Well, he called him ‘the little brother I never wanted’ but had said so sarcastically. Obviously, he’d meant the opposite.

Hard to feel wanted right now though, considering as of circa maybe a month ago, Eddie’s been MIA. He still shows up to Hellfire, obviously. But that was about it.

After stopping the clock on the apocalypse and banding together to clear Eddie’s good name, it kind of become a thing - Eddie taking them out to get slushies after a game. Calling up Eddie to tell him, not ask, but tell him they were all going to the arcade. He’d even gone to Eddie’s trailer a few times so he could help Dustin homebrew his subclass!

Steve had started tagging along too, usually. Him and Eddie even getting started to get less awkward around each other after a while. Not best friends or anything, Not like Dustin was hoping. But friendly. It had been totally awesome! And totally annoying that he had mysteriously gone to ground.

It’s possible Dustin’s being, well he doesn’t want to say needy...

It’s just, Steve started picking up extra shifts at work and spending a whole lot of time with Robin. Not that Dustin didn’t support their relationship. Steve’s been single so long, it hadn’t started verging on pathetic exactly, but it was a near thing.

It’s just hard for a guy not to feel neglected.

The four boys had almost reached the trailer when they heard it. At first Dustin dismissed it, surely the trailer next doors’ doing. But no, that music definitely coming from Eddie’s.

That in and of itself, wouldn’t be unusual. Eddie is likely the loudest human being on the planet. No, the weird part is it’s not thrashy, garbage can lid, Eddie-music but goddamn…

“Is that - “ Mike said, trailing off from sheer befuddlement.

“Culture Club.” Lucas could barely hide the cackle in his voice.

“What in the -“ Dustin muttered, throwing his bike in the grass and wandering up to the door like it was a gate to another dimension. For all he knows, it might just be.

“Eddie?” He knocked on the door. Nothing. He tried again. Obviously, someone’s home.

Dustin’s only met the man briefly but he didn’t take Munson Sr for being the bubblegum pop type.

Besides, Mr. Munson certainly wouldn’t be playing anything this loud unless those late nights at the plant had him going deaf. Dustin peeked through the window into the living room. More nothing.

“Oh man.” Lucas shoved him to press his face against the glass too. There was a slow smile creeping across his face, like he was suddenly overjoyed they had come to the trailer park after all. Lucas wasn’t gonna let their DM live this one down, not any time soon. “I thought he was supposed to be cool.”

“He is cool.” Mike said.

Dustin just sighed, threw his hands up, and started rounding the corner of the RV. Eddie’s van was here, ergo Eddie. Dustin was sure he’d be lurking around here somewhere. The rest of the boys followed, their previous hesitation now nowhere to be seen.

“Come on.” He gestured towards the window. They all leaned in and Dustin was already furiously rapping on the window. “Ed - “

Dustin’s eyes went wide. And maybe his face a bit pink.

Eddie was here alright.

He was laying in bed. Very much not alone. There were two of them, lying in bed together. They were under the covers but Eddie was sprawled out on top of someone, a thick curtain of hair hanging over both faces. Clearly, ew, kissing, based on, and Dustin might be scarred for life here, a hand gripping Eddie’s hair at the base of his neck.

As for the tunes, the obvious culprit was in the corner of the room. Eddie’s little cassette stereo.

“Eddie?” Dustin blanched before he could stop himself. And it was of course, in that exact moment Culture Club decided to betray them and the tape cut out.

Will went to shush him, grabbing his shoulder to drag him away but oh no, Eddie definitely heard something. The guy squawked and jolted up in bed, swooping the covers up to hide them both in their immodesty. Eddie’s eyes peaked over his elbow like a vampire leering over his cloak. He gaped at the window, clearly rather horrified.

The boys all threw themselves out of the frame, Dustin pressing up against the back of the trailer.

“What the fuck - “ he heard Eddie say. “What the fuck.” He sounded almost angry but closer to panicked. There was a vague whispering match, but whispering was never really Eddie’s strong suit, so they heard him just fine.

They heard something like a grown man crashing off the bed and gracelessly hit the floor.

“Relax.” Eddie said, though he did not himself sound relaxed. “No, it’s fine. We’re cool. You need to - I need you cool right now.”

“I know, I know, I know. I know! Christ, I’m sorry, ok? I didn’t - I’ll deal with it. Just - “

The boys were already turning tail and scurrying back to their bikes. Gone entirely red in the face.

“I told you this was a bad idea.” Mike said, the hypocrite bastard.

“No you did not!” Dustin huffed.

The front door swung open with a bang and Eddie came spilling out towards them as he, oh gross, scrambled to get into his jeans. He was still shirtless and sweaty, hair fluffed up like an angry cat. Looking rather frantic.

“It’s not what it looks like!” He actually looked properly pissed, hands shaking with it as he did up his fly.

“We didn’t see anything.” Lucas put his hands up, but the guilty way he refused to meet Eddie’s eyes kind of gave up the game.

“Nothing!” Will squeaked, beet red and squeezing his eyes closed tight. Just in case they hadn’t made themselves look incriminating enough.

“God, of all the shit fucking timing -“ Eddie’s fist clenched up in front of him and he let out a frustrated noise, eyes darting around the trailer park. “Look I can explain. If you just, ergh, give me a minute to think of something.”

“No need! We didn’t see anything, promise.” Mike assured him again, his voice nearly steady. Good for him.

“Right so. I guess, did I mention I’ve take up recently taken up semi pro Grecian wrestling - “

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Dustin couldn’t help interrupting him. Lucas smacked him. He gave Lucas a face, which was returned, so Dustin did it again even harder. But fuck Lucas cause it may have been the right thing to say. Eddie stopped fluttering, looked right at him. Squinted, scanning his face.

“You know you can just tell us. If you did. You could have just told us in the first place.” Dustin didn’t get why Eddie wouldn’t. Did Eddie think this kind of thing was too ‘grown up’ for them. They were high school freshman for Christ sake! The only one of their little crew who didn’t have a girlfriend was Will. And I guess Steve.

Allegedly.

Of course, Dustin didn’t believe that for a second.

“I - what?” Eddie perked up.

“If you had a girlfriend. Do you? Is that - “

Eddie huffed out a hysterical laugh. It was weird. But then, Eddie wasn’t exactly the poster child for Normal. Dustin crossed his arms.

“Sure. Yeah.” He took a big breath as he looked behind him back into the trailer. “I have a... my girlfriend.”

“Sorry. For coming over.” Will said, timid like a mouse.

“It was Dustin’s idea.” He took Mike for many things but never a rat. Dustin sputtered indignantly, throwing up his hands.

“And we didn’t even see anything, really! So if you’re worried about your girlfriend’s modesty, like - we didn’t see anything, we swear! Right guys?.” Lucas insisted. Mike and Will bobbleheaded in agreement.

“What the hell are you squirts doing here, anyways?” Eddie said, scrubbing roughly at his forehead.

“I needed to get my binder.” Dustin said flatly. And maybe to remind Eddie that hey, he’s still here too. Like, right here.

“Your fucking - “ Eddie said in disbelief, and then he laughed. “Your binder.”

“You weren’t answering the phone.”

“Yeah well I was busy.” Eddie said, eyes wide and awfully antagonistic.

“Busy getting busy.”

Eddie turned his wild eyes on Lucas

“Thin ice, Sinclair. Thin fucking ice.”

That just made him chuckle again. At least he half tried to hide it behind his hand. But Lucas always was the least cowed by Eddie.

“Is this why you haven’t been hanging around anymore, like all month.”

“Jesus. Henderson, I’m sorry, ok? Hard as it is to believe, I do have a fucking life outside the game.” Yeah, Dustin thought, it was pretty hard to believe. “Look, just give me a second.”

“I’ll be quick - “ Dustin made a move to come inside.

“No.” Eddie firmly hip checked him out of the way.

Eddie slipped back into the trailer. Through the open door Dustin could just barely make out the words.

“False alarm. No - actually. I’m being serious. They think - “

They think what? Think they have a right to be here at Eddie’s trailer. Taking up space in Eddie’s life. Well they do. The party almost died saving the world side by side with Eddie, they had more right to be here than that - Dustin just grumbled. He wouldn’t call her a harlot. But only because Susie’s voice was already in the back of his head, admonishing the thought.

Eddie came back and pushed the binder hard into Dustin’s chest. He was stumbled back a step. “Now scram.” He said, not leaving room for Dustin to get a word in edgewise.

“Look, I’m sorry I haven’t been around but I… See you at Hellfire, ok?” Eddie slammed the door in their faces.

“How great could this even chick be?” Dustin frowned. Great enough to edge the party out of Eddie’s life it seems like.

The other boys just shrugged. They all picked up their bikes.

“I mean, why can’t he just like, bring her along when we hang out or something.”

“I told you, maybe he just wants to hang out with someone his own age for once.” Lucas said.

Maybe Eddie’s too cool to bring his new girlfriend around his dorky freshmen friends. Is he embarrassed to introduce them to her or something.

“Come on.” Will said. “We should get back to Mike’s.”

“Yeah. Yeah whatever.” Dustin said.

———

“So our parents said me and Mike and Lucas could go to the arcade for an hour before it gets dark.” Dustin said to Eddie as they walked through the empty school hallway after Hellfire.

“No can do, compadre. Fight the good fight against those Space Invaders in my steed, yeah?” Eddie grinned down at him over the few boxes of mini in his hands.

Dustin huffed.

“What? Too busy hanging out with your girlfriend? Dustin said petulantly. “Just bring her along if your - “

The three most senior PC’s in Hellfire skid to a stop in front of them. Dustin and Eddie nearly walked straight into the wall of them. It was almost comical the way all their heads swiveled around to oogle at him. Jeff only just managed to choke back a chortle.

Dustin was honestly offended on Eddie’s behalf. Sure, dude was a drug dealing, super duper senior nerd/freak/metalhead combo who had been semi-recently accused of ritualistic dismemberment - but certainly someone was into that.

“My -? Oh yeah my, my - that.” Eddie winced, avoiding many, many eyes.

“Oh, and you have a girlfriend now do you?” Gareth huffed a laugh, in clear disbelief. Eddie glared daggers at him.

Dustin really didn’t see why it was that hard to believe. Eddie was like, really cool. It was an indisputable fact. If all of them could see it, why couldn’t some weird, off the wall alt girl see it too.

“I don’t want to hear a fucking word from you. Any one of you.” Pointing rapidly at all three of them, like he was warding off the words waiting right at the tip of their tongues.

“So who’s the lucky lady, Munson?” Jared said, like he had ‘held action, Vicious Mockery’ and simply couldn’t help himself. He was fighting a positively delighted smile. Eddie flushed.

“The DM giveth and the DM taketh away, and you would be very wise to remember that, Ser Elias!” Eddie said loudly, still jabbing his finger about like it made him more authoritative.

“Sorry man, just joking around.” Jeff grinned good naturedly.

“Yeah, I mean, good for you dude.” Gareth said, with a genuine smile. He tapped Eddie on the chest who childishly batted Gareth’s hand away.

“No, don’t do that. I - seriously guys, we’re not - it’s not like that. I’m not ‘dating’ anyone.” Eddie deflated, looking uncomfortable. The unflappable Eddie, looking all too flappable after all. He tucked a piece of hair behind his ear and huffed. “Just someone I’ve been screwing around with alright.”

Eddie walked past them. Dustin almost felt bad for bringing it up. Almost.

He turned to Gareth.

“So you guys don’t have any idea who it is?”

The guys looked around at each other, all of them shrugging.

“Who knows.” Jared shrugged again, this one still no more helpful than the last.

“Unless,” Gareth straight up giggles, “it’s that suburban mom Eddie’s been swooning over since sophomore year.”

“Yeah right.” Jared chuckled, shoving Gareth forward. They all continued walking.

“That… doesn’t seem like his type.” Dustin said, suddenly confused and perturbed and feeling like he doesn’t know Eddie Munson at all.

“You’d be surprised.” Jared grinned and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

They exited the school just in time to see Steve getting out of the car. Usually after Hellfire he didn’t bother. He just wanted to get the kids rounded up and out of the parking lot as quickly as he could ever really manage. Not today though. Eddie walked to Steve’s Beemer, parked in the stall next to his van.

“Munson.” He said with a small smile. He grabbed one of a few boxes of minis out of Eddie’s arms.

“Uh, Harrington.” Eddie gave a hesitant smile, before bowing his head with predictable theatrically.

“Hi, Steve.” Dustin said from behind. Steve gave him a fond nod before looking back up to the DM.

“So, uh, how was the session?” He said kind of awkwardly.

“Bordering on child abuse.” Eddie beamed.

“I got knocked out, twice.” Lucas windged, holding up two fingers.

“Whatever keeps you humble.” Steve shrugged. He turned back to Eddie. “So. Uh. Any plans for this weekend?”

Eddie blinked, then he raised his eyebrows with a haughty grin. “Dunno, had a few things in mind.” He shrugged.

“Cool. That’s cool. I did too. But uh, then my parents came home from their trip early.” Steve scratched the back of his neck. “So, you know, guess there go my plans for the weekend.”

“Huh.” Eddie frowned. “Bummer.”

“Shotgun!” Dustin decided, throwing open the passenger side door.

Mike, Lucas, and Will who also couldn’t care less about their inane small talk, were already piling into Steve’s car. Steve was lingering though, helping Eddie load his stuff into the van. Dustin’s glad they’re making an effort to be friendly acquaintances, especially since he’s pretty sure it’s mostly for his own sake. But come on, it was like, 3 small boxes. They had space invasions to thwart.

And of course, Lucas was still bitching at Dustin about his failure to come through with a healing spell.

“I’m a bard, what did you want me to do?” Dustin rolled his eyes.

“You have healing word!” Lucas said, to which Dustin roll his eyes. Again.

“Which does like, 2D-nothing!” He looked out the window, wishing Steve would hurry the hell up already. Him and Eddie were still talking? What the hell did those two even have to talk about? Eddie was giving Steve an optimistic grin, but Steve was just shaking his head.

“Healing touch than!” Lucas groused.

“Well, then you should have thought about that before you went down thirty-five feet away.”

“You could have dashed.” Lucas crossed his arms.

“Ugh. That would have defeated the whole - ugh!” Dustin rolled the window down impatiently. “Steve is it cool if I eat in your car?“ Dustin hollered. He wasn’t actually gonna, he just knew how to get the man’s attention.

“Absolutely not! You know the rules.”

“Don’t worry, it’s just a granola bar! Nature Valley.” Dustin shouted back.

“Don’t even think about it Henderson!” Steve said, already rounding the car. Eddie laughed brightly.

“Harrington?” He said.

“I - Yeah. Fine. Fine, alright.” Steve said to which Eddie smiled triumphantly. That better mean they were done with their little pow-wow.

Eddie climbed into his own vehicle. Steve opened the Beemer’s drivers side door but he didn’t get in yet. Instead he stood there running his hand through his hair muttering something to himself.

“See ya, nerds!” Eddie called out, lowering his own window. There was a chorus of goodbyes from the Beemer. “And Harrington -“ He started the van and a blast of guitar poured out. He smiled that Eddie smile. “You worry too much.” He said. And then he swept out of the parking lot with the sound of his obnoxious music on the wind.

“Yeah. Sure.” Steve said sarcastically. He got behind the wheel, Dustin’s threat of snacking seemingly forgotten.

“What was that about?”

Steve just waved him off and started the car.

Dustin eyed Steve skeptically. So what, were Steve and Eddie like, actually friends now or something?

Maybe he knows.

After a few minutes, Dustin finally broke and asked.

“Soooo, do you know who Eddie’s been seeing?”

“What?” Steve says, nearly swerving over the line.

“Jesus!” Lucas swore from the back.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Steve chuckled awkwardly, eyes now, thankfully, firmly fixed on the road.

“Of course he’s not gonna tell Steve.” Mike grumbled.

Dustin stroked an imaginary beard. The fog of mystery only grew thicker and thicker.

“His secret girlfriend.” Mike said, like a little know it all.

Steve just huffed a, sure.

“I bet she’s like, some badass metal chick.” Mike said reverently, looking out the window. “She probably has like face piercings and crazy dyed hair. Or like a shaved head or something cool like that.”

Dustin sighed. She probably was badass. Way cooler than they were. Way too cool to bring around the dork squad.

“Does that sound like anyone you’ve seen around here?” Lucas said skeptically.

“Yeah, I dunno. Gareth said he was into like… suburban moms.” Dustin grimaced.

“Excuse me?” Steve sputtered.

Will made a disgusted noise.

“I know.” Dustin shivered.

“Better watch out for your mom then.” Lucas snickered. Dustin shot him a dirty look.

“Yeah, no way.” Mike shook his head. “He had to be messing with you or something. Eddie probably has like, groupies and stuff.”

“Please. That man has no game.” Lucas said. Steve snorted but played it off like a cough.

“That man runs the game.” Dustin said defensively.

“You know that’s not what that means.” Lucas said.

“The real question is, how long has this little dalliance been going on for?” Dustin pondered.

“Hey, you nosey little twerps. I really don’t think this is like, any of your business.”

“At least a few weeks right?” Lucas spoke up.

“And how do you know that?” Mike said.

“Cause that’s how long it’s been that Eddie’s been using the phrase ‘busy’ to get out of stuff. I mean he’s a jobless, drug peddling hobo, I don’t think I’ve seen Eddie be busy like, ever.” Lucas said, scratching his chin. “Until a few weeks ago that is.”

Dustin grinned widely. “It’s elementary, my dear Watson.”

“It’s invasive is what it is.” Steve grumbled. “Also, he’s not a hobo. He has a house.”

“Well, I guess, technically it’s a trailer.” Will said, rather pedantically.

“Well, it’s got four walls. And he lives inside them. Ergo…”

“He’s also been a lot nicer.” Will said thoughtfully.

“Huh?” Dustin and Steve said, and looked at him in unison.

“The last couple weeks, don’t you think?” Will said, smiling faintly. “He’s been nicer than usual. Or happier. I guess.”

“I guess.” Dustin said.

“You think?” Steve said.

“Okay,” Dustin should have a houndstooth cap and a pipe. “We have our timeline. Now, we need to root out suspects.”

“Alright, this, whatever this is, stops here. You nosey little twerps need to mind your own business.”

“But - “

“I don’t want to hear it. No buts.”

And that was the end of that. For now at least.

Tag List : @reading-archieves @homoerotictangerine @bingbongsupremacy @aroseandherthorns @wheneverfeasible @travelingtwentysomething @ineffable-monster-romancer @laughingphantoms @gregre369

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[ghost-in-the-hall]

Fall For Me (Poly! Sleep Token x Fem! Reader) - Pt. X

Hello hello! After a long time away I have finally returned! It's good to be back! Here's an update for the Eepy's, I hope you enjoy it!

WARNINGS: Mentions of injury and blood, suggestive comments

My Masterlist! ~ A03 Link! ~ Tip Jar!

Part IX - Part XI (TBA)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Got a second to talk?”

“Yeah.” You respond after a moment of hesitation, your voice raspy with sleep. “Yeah, let me just grab my coat.” You shove your feet into your boots. You glance at the group in your living room, silently telling them to stay put. All four of them looked ready to rush to your rescue without hesitation. But, if they got involved, it would only make the situation even riskier than it already could be. You shrug on your winter coat before stepping onto your landing. “Something wrong, officer?”

“That’s what I came here to ask you.” He responds. “Got a call? An unfamiliar pickup truck showed up in your lot. Four suspicious men were seen approaching your apartment.” He looks down in the lot at the beat-up truck sitting next to your car. “I'd say there's a pretty good chance they're still here.”

“That's really why you're banging on my door at the ass crack of dawn?” You ask in an annoyed tone, crossing your arms over your chest. “Well, I'm going to tell you right now, you're not getting in here without a fucking warrant-” He cuts you off by firmly saying your name.

“I'm not here to arrest anyone.” He explains in an attempt to try and diffuse your hostility. “I'm just here to check in. Are you in trouble? Do you need help?” He whispers, eyes darting between the door and your less-than-pleased expression.

You let out an aggravated sigh, “Mike, listen… the only reason I'm not running you off my property right now is because you've helped me out in the past. If I needed your help, I would ask for it. I'm not going to let you show up here and harass me or any of them because some fucking backwoods country bumpkin wants to demonize a different way of living.” You take a deep breath, seeing the genuine concern on his face. “This… isn't like last time; they wouldn't hurt me. I'm safe, promise.” He looks at the door and then back at you.

“If you even get the feeling that something is wrong, you call me.” You nod.

“Get back to the station. Your wife would be worried sick if she knew you were out driving right now.” You nodded to his vehicle, watching him descend the stairs before heading back inside the apartment. You stepped through the door, kicking off your boots and hanging up your coat with a sigh of relief now that the situation was over.

“Thank god, you're safe.” Vessel pulls you into his arms, his voice thick with worry. “What did he want?”

“Someone called to report an unfamiliar vehicle and four suspicious individuals entering my house last night; he was just swinging by for a wellness check.” You reassure him. “He might be a bit of a hard ass, but he means well. I'm sure he won't give you guys any trouble.”

“Bit of a sour start to our first morning all together, isn't it?” III chuckles, making the rest of the group laugh.

“And here I was, looking forward to cuddling up with you.” Vessel purrs, the tension from your unexpected visitor quickly melting away as they all attempt to soothe your nerves.

“Nothing is saying that can't still happen, Ves,” II responds with a smile. You see a devious smirk quickly pass over Vessel’s features. You yelp, and your feet are lifted from the floor in one swift movement. Vessel easily tosses you over his shoulder to carry you towards your bedroom. You giggle as he gently tosses you on the bed, quickly being surrounded by warmth as the boys pile around you. You lay sandwiched between II and IV, III holding one of your hands in his as he lazily plays with your fingers. Vessel’s hand possessively wraps around the curve of your waist as he reaches over II, needing to be somehow able to touch you. It didn't take long for your eyes to grow heavy, returning to sleep for the last few hours of dawn as the new day's light began to melt away the cage of ice that had covered the surrounding trees. 

You smiled as you woke up, pressing into the body's warmth behind you with a soft hum. A strong arm wrapped securely around your waist, his thumb rubbing slow, languid strokes across your hip. You reach over to find the other side of the bed empty. “-’s just you and me, lovey.” Vessel purrs. You let out a soft, pleased sigh.

“Is that so?” you ask in a slightly teasing tone, your voice still thick with sleep. Was that your plan all along? Get me in bed all alone?” He meets your playful smirk with a chuckle of his own.

“You’d like that, wouldn't you, sweetness?” he whispers, his grip tightening on your waist. Your cheeks grow warm, goosebumps erupting across your skin as you feel his lips brush over the shell of your ear. “Trust me, my first time with you isn't going to be some messy little hook-up in your bedroom.” He chuckles. “I plan on worshiping you like the divine creature you are.” A shiver runs up your spine as he presses his lips to your pulse. “Until then, we just have to be patient, don't we?”

“Fine.” You sigh in mock annoyance, making Vessel laugh softly. You rest your hand on top of his, languidly tracing the spaces between his knuckles as you allow yourself to melt into his warmth. “Where are the others?”

“They're making you breakfast. We all want to make sure you have a better day after starting on the wrong foot.” He explains softly.

“You’re sweet, " you say with a smile. “The power came back on?” He lets out a hum of approval.

“Clicked on a little while after you fell asleep.” You lay there for a few moments, enjoying the feeling of Vessel’s body molding against yours. You sigh as you attempt to roll out of bed. “And where do you think you're going?” He chuckles, tightening his grip on your waist. You roll over to face him, the playfully grumpy expression on your face making him smile. “Trying to run away without giving me a kiss? That's how it's going to be, hm?” You giggle as he pulls your lips to his.

You could get used to mornings like this. After leaving your lungs burning for air and your head spinning, Vessel lazily helped you get out of bed. Scooping you up in his arms to escort you towards the kitchen. “Well, good morning, beautiful.” III stood at the stove, bacon sizzling in the pan in front of him, IV at his side cutting up fruit and tossing it into a bowl, and II sat at the table drinking a steaming cup of coffee.

“Good morning.” You greet all of them. Vessel sets you down on the floor before collapsing into one of the other chairs that had been dragged into the kitchen. IV approaches you, holding out a piece of fresh fruit for you to bite into. He rests his hand against your cheek, carefully running his thumb under your eye.

“Eyelash.” He whispers with a chuckle. He holds it out on the end of his fingeMakemake a wish.” A smile creeps across your features at the simple request. You think about it momentarily before closing your eyes, wishing that every morning could be like this with them, and blowing the eyelash away. Your eyes flutter open to meet IV’s curious gaze. He presses his lips to your forehead before returning to the task he was completing prior.

“You hungry?” You smile as III wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side.

“Starving.” You respond, giggling as he squeezes you against him, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“I'll have breakfast done shortly, love.” You stand up on your toes, sharing a kiss through his mask before allowing him to finish cooking.

“Well, good morning, baby.” II quickly caught your attention, a warm hand settling against your waist as he pulled you into his lap. “Thought you forgot about me.” He teases with a chuckle. “My pretty girl is getting so much attention.” He squeezes your hip as his gaze lazily trails down to your lips.

“Trust me, that’s not remotely possible.” You giggle as his forehead bumps against yours, holding his lips just out of reach.

“Good,” he whispers, “because after holding you in my arms this morning, I can't seem to think of anything besides you.” Your eyes flutter shut as his lips finally brush over yours. You feel II’s legs tense underneath you as you hear IV let out a sound almost akin to a growl from across the kitchen.

“Relax.” III states in a warning tone. “You can spend time with her, too.” You watch IV’s shoulders soften under III’s intense, almost corrective demeanor. “And II, keep it respectful, yeah?” III stood like a wall between the two men, ready to launch into action at the first signs of a fight.

You hear II make an annoyed sound of approval. The fact that he seemed to be acting like a child who had just been scolded by a parent almost made you laugh. You press your lips to his cheek, “I'm going to see if they need any help.”

“Don't let them work you too hard, love.” He jokes with a wink. You laugh, shaking your head as you hop off his lap. You walk up to III, crossing your arms behind your back.

“Head chef.” You address him seriously.

“Yes, love?” He responds with a chuckle.

“Where would you like me to help?” You ask, following III’s gase as it trails over to IV. He nods in his direction, smiling at you as you walk away.

IV tenses slightly under your touch, your hand resting on his shoulder. “Everything okay?” You grab a bowl from the cabinet in front of you and place it on the counter to pour the fruit into.

“I'm sorry,” he apologizes quietly, keeping his eyes trained on the cutting board. “Guess I'm just a little jealous.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” IV sighs, his shoulders softening as he lets some tension roll from his body.

“No, you're absolutely perfect, love.” His eyes finally meet yours, the corners crinkling slightly as he smiles. “I just need to get out of my head, I'm afraid.” He finishes with a chuckle. Your heart skips a beat at the sound of him saying your name, “promise you're still my girl?”

“Of course.” You say, shooting him a flirty smile. “Besides, you still have to take me out on that date.” He chuckles bashfully.

“Yes, I do. I just want to make sure I think of something special first.” He gently nudges your shoulder with his own. “My girl deserves only the best.” Your cheeks grow warm, the two of you sharing a small glance before finishing breakfast in silence.

“All set, sweetheart?” III asks before clearing your dishes from the table.

“I can bring my own plates to the sink; I'm not helpless, you know.” You joke.

III chuckles as he strolls up to you, “And why should my pretty girl have to lift a finger?”

“You're such a flirt.” You tease with a flustered giggle. You sigh, standing to answer your phone in the other room.

“Thank god I got a hold of ya’.” The momentary panic that had bubbled up in your chest at the sight of the contact that flashed across your phone quickly died at the familiar calm tone on the other end of the line.

“Henry, is everything alright?” Henry McMann owned the dairy farm up the road; you had grown close to him over your time running the store.

“Everything's fine. Tree fell and put a damn hole in the barn roof. I was hoping I could convince those boys you have staying with you to come down and help; I could use their pickup truck to clean up the place.” Your eyes narrowed at the request.

“How did you know they were staying here?” You question.

“Whole damn town’s talking about it, kiddo. Hell,” he starts to laugh, “at least three people have called up here this morning asking if we've heard from you.”

“You weren't the one that sent the police here, were you?”

“No, ma’am,” he responds immediately. “Your business is your business. As long as no one's getting hurt, I frankly don't give a damn what you're getting up to.”

“Let me see if I can get Vessel to come talk to you; he'll be able to help.” After some gentle convincing on your end, you managed to get him on the phone. Vessel might be wary of strangers, but despite his icy exterior, he couldn't turn down someone who needed help. After a while, he carefully hung up the phone and wordlessly approached the others.

“Let's get going; we have some work to do.” You weren't exactly sure what Henry could have said to Vessel that made him agree to head out there, but you were happy for whatever it was. Pulling up at the farm always provided this strange sense of home. Seeing Henry waiting on the porch, a dark pipe lazily perched against his lips, was a sight you'd witnessed a hundred times at this point.

“Thanks for showing up.” Henry’s hand claps into Vessel’s with a firm shake.

“Thank you for giving us the opportunity to.” Vessel responds simply. “Why don't you show us this barn.”

The tree hadn't damaged much but couldn't remain across the barn’s roof. “We need to get the sheep to the other building before we do anything.” You caught Vessel silently nodding at III, who quietly slipped from the group. You stood by as the pair formulated a plan, Henry seemingly impressed by Vessel’s initiative to help. You startled at the bleating from behind you, turning to find that III had successfully managed to herd all the sheep together.

Vessel calls your name. " Why don't you take Henry inside so you can both warm up? The more people out here, the more dangerous it'll be.”

“You don't have to tell me twice.” Henry chuckles. “You boys drink coffee? I'll get a pot started.”

“That would be great, Henry, thank you.” Vessel responds before his attention turns to you. “Go on, love. We won't be long.” The sight of his smile was enough to put you at ease. If you were being honest, this whole interaction was going a lot better than you thought it would. You were expecting Vessel to be cold and Henry to be abrasive, but the two seemed to be getting along just fine.

“Oh, wait, they're going to need some chain.” You sent Henry inside, insisting you would be right in. You were just going to jog back over and tell them where to look in the– You skidded to a halt as you rounded the corner. IV stood under the tree, his jacket discarded on the truck hood and his sleeves pushed up to his elbows. His muscles strained under the weight of the colossal trunk; with a groan and one strong push from his legs, he lifted the tree from the barn. You hear him curse before pushing the tree forward, causing it to crash loudly to the ground. You watched him grab onto his hand, droplets of blood dripping from his fingers into the pure white snow. You were immediately consumed by panic seeing him hurt, the inhuman strength you just witnessed being pushed from your mind. You yell for him, rushing forward to see the damage. “Are you okay? Let me look.” The wound wasn't anything terrible, a gash left behind by what you were assuming was a sharp branch, just enough to cause him to bleed. “Come on, let's get you cleaned up.” He wordlessly followed you, allowing you to rush him inside and past Henry to the bathroom. You kicked the door shut behind you, pulling out the first aid kit from under the sink. IV stared back at you with confusion in his eyes, apprehension rolling off him in waves as he waited for you to address what you had just witnessed. He was snapped from his daze by you softly saying his name, “Can I see?”

“Yeah.” He sighs, placing his injured hand in yours. “I'm sorry you have to play nurse,” he chuckles. I wasn't expecting that bark to be so jagged.”

“It's no problem; it's what girlfriends are for.” He breathes out a sigh of relief as you smile at him. The silence still hung thick between you as you carefully cleaned the wound, being as gentle with him as possible. “So, you're strong enough to squat a tree?”

“I guess, on a good day.” He responds in an awkward attempt at a joke.

“Can you… Can all of you–?” You make a vague flexing motion, making IV chuckle.

“To an extent, yeah.” He leans closer to you, a smugness lacing its way into his words. “I would like to point out, however, that I am quite a bit stronger than II, thank you very much.”

You smile coyly at him, “As long as you're strong enough to sweep me up in your arms, that's all I care about.”

“You're acting like that would be much of a problem.” You swallow thickly, your heart racing as your eyes meet his.

“Try to sit still while I get you wrapped up, alright?” He laughs at your abrupt change in subject.

“Yes, love, whatever you need.” He leans in, gently pressing his lips to your forehead

“Is he gonna make it?” Henry asks, unbothered by your usual frantic chaos rushing through his living room, reading yesterday's paper in his recliner.

“Yessir, just a scratch,” IV responds with a chuckle.

“We're going to see what else they need help with; we’ll be back, " you explain before heading out of the house. You step onto the porch, pulling your jacket around you to try to shield yourself from the frigid wind. You squeal as IV effortlessly picks you up and tosses you over his shoulder.

“See? No trouble at all.” He teases before turning you into a more comfortable position, holding you close to his chest. By the time you had gotten back to the barn, Vessel and II had made quick work of chopping up the tree, the back of their truck filled with neatly sliced logs ready to be moved elsewhere.

“There you are! You were gone so long we thought she had to chop your damn hand off.” II chuckles.

“No, he got lucky this time.” You joke, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“You mind going to check on III? Tell him we're just about done.” You nod, running off towards the other barn. Upon entering, you couldn't help but laugh, watching III attempt to calm the panicked sheep.

“I'm not trying to eat your flock; I'm just trying to help.” He attempts to bargain to stop the bleating.

“Want some company?” You ask with a smile.

“Please.” III chuckles in response.

“I'm surprised they don't like you; Henry’s sheep are usually very sweet.” You muse, patting the top of one of their fluffy heads as you pass.

“I tend to be rather scary to livestock animals… for one reason or another.” He responds vaguely.

“Well, Ves wanted me to tell you they're just about finished.” He slides to the ground with a sigh, patting the empty cushion of hay beside him.

“Good, that gives me a couple minutes to spend with you.” He responds in a flirty tone. You tumble down next to him, allowing him to pull you into his side. “How's your day going, baby?”

“Well, I'm spending it with you, so I can't complain.” You say with a smile.

Your heart raced as he leaned in closer to you. “Glad to hear it.” His gaze drops to your lips, slowly tracing your features before meeting your eyes again with an eye-crinkling smile. “Do you think, um– Do you think I could maybe steal you away for myself tonight..? Only if you want, of course.” The memory of III confessing how he just wants to get you alone bubbled up in the back of your mind, making your stomach flip.

“If you can manage to get me away from the others.” You joke with a giggle.

III releases a sound somewhere between a growl and a chuckle. “Oh, don't worry about that, pretty girl. I'll make sure everyone knows you'll be spending the night with me.”

“Alright, III, bring them back in!” You hear Vessel call from outside. He stands with a groan, offering you his hand to help you up.

“Alright, everyone, let's make this as painless as possible.” He calls over the hoard of bleating sheep. He was surprisingly efficient at the task, rounding up the entire flock into one solid group to lead them from one building to the other. You noticed how he quickly spotted anyone who fell out of line, nudging them back with his knee as he barked to keep moving.

You jump as Vessel places a hand on your waist, “I think that went well, don't you?”

“I think you're right.” You smile softly, leaning into him as you share your hushed conversation. “Thank you for giving Henry a chance; he's pretty much family.”

“I can't say no to you,” he breathes out a chuckle. You asked for my help, and I'll always be there to give it to you… and, I guess, Henry doesn't seem so bad.” He playfully nudges your shoulder.

“You boys hungry? The wife and I would like to make you some dinner to say thanks for helpin’ out.” Vessel looks to the others for a response.

“Well, you know I could always eat.” III chuckles with a shrug. 

You hear II sigh, somewhat relieved, “Would either of you like help in the kitchen?”

“No, you've done more than enough. All of you.” Henry confidently walks up to Vessel with a look of determination. “After today, I can tell just how much bullshit those reporters are trying to fill everyone's head with. You're a good group; if you ever need anything, just let me know. Just make sure you take good care of my girl.”

Vessel smiled, genuinely shaking Henry's hand. “Thank you; I really appreciate that. And, trust me,” despite the mask covering his face, you could feel Vessel’s eyes shift to you. I plan to.”

You stood side by side with May, Henry’s wife, in the kitchen, helping her wash vegetables for dinner. “Those boys seem very sweet on you.” She gracefully dances around the subject. Your cheeks grow warm as you struggle to think of a way to explain your four boyfriends. “They're all very handsome; you'll have to come by and tell me about them sometime.” She whispers giddily.

“I’d love to; they're all amazing. I'm happy you finally get to meet them.” You jumped at the loud boom of laughter from the living room, smiling at the sound of the group.

“I think Henry likes them too.” She chuckles.

May insists she can finish up the cooking herself before sending you out into the commotion. You couldn't get over how lovely they all were, genuinely enjoying their time sitting in Henry’s cramped living room. The house was full of laughter, stories, and all the small things you missed about being at Henry's farm. The hours flew by, and before you knew it, you were comfortably tucked into the truck's cab, settling into III’s lap while Vessel drove towards their camp. III wraps his arms around your waist, chin settling against your shoulder. “How's my pretty girl?” He whispers.

“Good.” You reply with a pleased sigh. “Tired.” You follow up with a chuckle.

“Do you still want to spend the night?” A shiver runs down your spine at the feeling of his warm breath against the shell of your ear.

“Of course.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List: in comments!

[twirlyleafs]

“Reckless.”

Charles Leclerc x driver! Reader

TW: mention of death, fighting

~~~~

“What the hell was that?”

Charles’ angry voice cut through the hum of your garage like a whip, startling you enough to make you spin around to face him. You hadn’t expected him to be here this fast, you’d barely gotten out of the car, but then again maybe you should have. You knew he’d be angry considering the intense qualifying session where you’d wrung every last bit out of your car—and yourself. In those final two laps, you’d driven with reckless precision, pressing Alonso so hard in the corners that he’d had to back off to not risk contact. It wasn’t exactly clean racing, but it had earned you a spot on the second row. Fourth on the grid, your best start all season. The best you would probably be able to get out of your car. But as satisfying as it was, you knew that Charles would have something to say about it.

“Keep your voice down, Charles.” You muttered while unzipping the top half of your suit, hoping you could brush this off before it turned into a scene. Charles wasn’t having it. Out of the corner of your eye you could see him, jaw clenched, his hands slicing through the air as he spoke, disbelief radiating off him.

“Keep my voice—are you serious? What’s your problem? That overtake was reckless. Fernando was barely an inch away from accidentally sending you flying into the wall!”

“Calm down.” You shot him a look as you brushed past him, hoping he’d drop it if you just kept walking. But Charles scoffed, immediately following you, his tone hard and unforgiving.

“Don’t tell me to calm down! I was right behind you! I saw the way you went in—God, you’re just lucky it was Alonso and not one of the rookies. That could’ve been a disaster.” Charles was relentless, his words chasing you all the way to your driver’s room. Your fists were clenched, nails digging into your palms as you worked to keep your own frustration under control. You knew his worry came from a place of love, but right now, it felt like he was questioning you as a driver, as if he didn’t trust you to know what you were doing. And that stung more than you cared to admit. Once the door shut behind you both, his words softened, though they still held an edge. “What were you thinking out there?”

You let out a heavy breath, finally turning to meet his gaze. “I was thinking about getting a decent starting position. I wanted-“

“You don’t risk everything for a good position!” he interrupted, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Have you talked to Fernando? He’s probably fuming! If that had been me in his shoes, I would’ve lost it—”

“Good thing it wasn’t you, then.” You snapped, turning your back on him as you began unzipping the rest of your suit. It felt safer to face the wall, where he couldn’t see the raw mix of emotions that tightened your throat and threatened to spill over. “You don’t get it, Charles. You have a team, a car, a contract. You have a future. A name. I’m fighting for scraps, like every shot is the last one I’ll get.”

He fell silent and for a moment you thought he might back down, let you have this small victory. But his voice cut through the quiet, low and sharp. “Maybe I don’t get it. But I do get that you’re pushing yourself too far. And one day it won’t just be a scare. You’ll get hurt.”

“Yeah, well, I can handle myself.” You retorted as you turned to face him, your gaze defiant. “I knew what I was doing with Alonso. I wouldn’t have tried it with one of the rookies, I knew they couldn’t handle that.”

“Can you?” His eyes held a look you rarely saw, a mixture of frustration, fear, and maybe even doubt. “Can you handle it, Y/N? Because from where I’m standing, that looked less like confidence and more like…like desperation.” His words hit you like a slap, hurting more than you wanted to admit. Was it desperation? Maybe there was some truth in that, but you weren’t about to let him see you flinch. Not when he didn’t understand what it was like to constantly have to prove yourself, to feel every race could be your last if you didn’t show results.

“Are you calling me a bad driver Charles?” You asked, the challenge clear in your tone. He ran a hand over his face, sighing in exasperation.

“I’m calling you reckless. Stupid, even. You could be amazing, I know you’re amazing, but you keep pulling moves like this and I’m just scared it’s going to end in disaster.”

You swallowed, ignoring the sting of his words. “I can’t afford to play it safe, Charles. You wouldn’t get it, you don’t have to get it. You’re in a car that could win a championship. I’m just trying to prove I belong here.” For a moment, he looked as if he was about to argue, his eyes narrowing with the usual stubbornness you knew too well. But instead, he just shook his head, stepping back, disappointment flickering in his gaze. He lingered for a moment, his gaze softened, as if he wanted to reach out but held himself back. Then he turned, leaving the room as quickly as he’d entered, his words hanging in the air, heavy and unshakable. You stood alone, the silence pressing down on you, and no matter how much you wanted to brush it off his words kept echoing in your mind.

The hours dragged on, the buzz of qualifying still lingering as you were pulled from one interview to the next. You smiled for the cameras, deflected the sharpest questions, and managed to shrug off any mention of that heated moment with Alonso. But under the surface, your mind churned with the memory of your earlier fight with Charles. His words still echoed in your head, gnawing at you in a way you couldn’t shake. Reckless. Desperate. You’d been called a lot of things, but hearing it from him hurt like hell. It was late when you finally reached the hotel, the quiet of the lobby a stark contrast to the noisy paddock. The tension in your shoulders was nearly unbearable as you made your way up to your room, the thought of sleep the only thing keeping you moving forward. When you unlocked the door and stepped inside Charles was there, sitting on the edge of the bed, his gaze flicking up from his phone when you entered. He looked worn, the earlier fire in his eyes now replaced with something gentler, but equally intense. You felt your heart skip, torn between relief and irritation as the weight of your argument settled heavily in the air between you.

“Hey,” he said quietly, watching you as you set down your things.

“Hey.” You shrugged off your jacket, avoiding his gaze, the room feeling too small, too charged. Silence hung thickly for a moment before he spoke again.

“I’m sorry,” he began, a slight hesitance in his voice. “For showing up like that. I shouldn’t have come into your garage and… yelled at you. That was out of line.”

You nodded, acknowledging his apology but not yet ready to let go of the frustration simmering beneath your skin. Slowly making your way across the room you stopped by the dresser to remove your jewelry, plopping your watch and bracelet down on the cold surface before turning around to look at him again. “You still think I’m reckless? Stupid?” Your voice was calm, even as your heart pounded in your chest. Charles looked down, rubbing his hands together as he seemed to weigh his words.

“Yes. I do. I think you’re incredible out there, but sometimes…” He paused, looking up at you, his eyes soft yet resolute. “Sometimes it scares me. Seeing you push so hard, knowing one wrong move could just, you know, just end everything.”

You sighed, crossing your arms as you leaned back against the dresser. “Charles, I’m fighting for my career. Every weekend, every race—it’s not just about points or a title chance. It’s about proving that I belong here, that I’m not just some driver filling space at the back of the grid.” You hesitated, struggling to put into words what you’d felt for so long. “I don’t have the luxury of playing it safe.”

“And you think I don’t get that?” His voice rose, a hint of frustration slipping back in. “I know what it’s like to fight, to have to prove myself. You think Ferrari didn’t make me feel like I had to earn my place every damn time I got in that car?”

You scoffed, feeling a flicker of bitterness as you met his gaze. “It’s different, Charles. You still always had the team behind you. A car that can get you to the podium on strategy alone. I don’t have that. I have to be better. I have to take risks.”

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t fight.” His voice was softer now. “But not at the cost of your safety. There’s a difference between fighting and driving like there’s nothing left to lose.”

You felt a flash of anger, his words hitting a raw nerve. “Maybe I don’t see a difference because I don’t have anything to lose, Charles. I’m already at the back. Already being picked apart by the media trying to prove women don’t belong here. That I don’t belong here. A good result like this might be the only thing keeping me on the grid next season.” Your voice wavered as you continued, the weight of your own words settling heavy on your chest. “Maybe I can’t afford to think about what I have to lose.” At that Charles expression softened, his eyes searching your face.

“And what about me? What if I lose you? Maybe you don’t see it that way, but to me you are the most important thing in this equation.” His words struck you like a blow and for the first time you felt the edges of your anger soften, giving way to something deeper and more vulnerable. You let out a breath, your gaze dropping to the floor as the truth of it all began to settle between you. You swallowed, feeling the prick of tears in your eyes but refusing to let them fall.

“You have to let me fight. Even if it scares you. Because I can’t be the driver I need to be if I’m holding back just to make everyone else feel safe.” Even with your eyes trained on the floor you noted Charles getting up, moving across the room towards you. The ache in your chest reached its peak when his hands carefully found your arms, slowly stroking down them until he could grip your hands in his. He sighed, his thumb rubbing gently over your knuckles.

“I don’t want you to hold back. I’d never ask that of you, I just-“ he paused and you slowly lifted your gaze to meet his. “I just want you to be careful. To remember that you can get to where you wanna be without dying on the way. Baby I want you to have everything, I think you deserve everything and I’m here for you, as long as you don’t disappear on me.” The last of your frustration melted away as you let out a shaky breath, leaning into his embrace. The second Charles noticed you moving closer he dropped your hands, wrapping his arms around you instead. Tucking your head against the crook of his neck you let out a deep sigh, nodding slowly.

“I get it. I get what you’re saying. It’s just hard to think like that when I’m out there, seeing my chances slip away.”

“I know.”

“But I’ll try.” You whispered, the words more of a promise to yourself than to him. “I’ll try to be careful. But I need you to understand that sometimes, this is just how it has to be. It’s the only way I know.” You felt Charles nod, his lips pressing soft, reassuring kisses against the top of your head. You shuffled closer, letting your arms wrap around his torso as his tightened around your frame, grounding you in the warmth and steadiness of his embrace. “You won’t lose me.” You murmured against his shoulder, the words both a promise and a hope. Charles held you close, his lips pressing gently to your temple as you both stood in the quiet of the room, letting the tension and hurt melt away. And for a while, neither of you said anything more, content just to hold each other, finding a fragile peace in the shared silence. Tomorrow, you’d be back on the track, fighting just as hard. But tonight, you were simply here, together.

[justhereforsomethingnice]

“Great, welcome mr. Wayne.” Danny sighed when a man who introduced himself as Bruce Wayne entered the shop. “So happy you could make it. I’m Danny, I’ll be doing your reading today.” God, one ounce of energy less in his words and he wouldn’t be only dead on the inside anymore.

The man beamed at him. “Amazing to meet you Danny. Say, I’ve never seen you here before, are you new?” The man asked jovially.

Danny grimaced. “Yep, now please follow me.” He was going to get so nauseas from those damn fumes back there, he just knows it. With how shit had been going, he’s going to throw up that one sip of milkshake he managed before yesterdays disaster on those fancy ass shoes. And that man couldn’t stop smiling and touching every damn little trinket on his way to the back.

“And what is this,” Wayne asked holding up a shiny trinket, immediately dropping it and picking up the next one, “fascinating, and this? Is this a spell book, how peculiar.” Danny was going to add another shade to the collection here.

He finally reached the room. “Sit down over there please mr. Wayne. Now, what exactly did you want to achieve when coming here?” He asked. The only thing miss. Claire told him to actually do before the reading.

The man actually seemed to become bashful at that, a bit nervous. He wrung his hands before rubbing one of his hands over the opposite wrist. “I was actually hoping to talk to some resently deceased people. A friend of mine died and but was very fond of this shop you see.”

Danny held in the sigh. Great, it was most likely the woman with the pearls floating behind him. “Let me guess, lady, dark hair, nice pearly necklace.”

The man seemed caught of guard for just a second before becoming it seemed angry. Or just very very sad. “See here young man, I will -,”

“Yeah yeah, save it.” Was he being an ass? Yes. Did this man deserve it? Most likely not. Did he care? No. He just spend the entire night trying to find shelter for the rain just for it to either crumble, leak anyways or in one kinda memorable occasion, blow up. So no, he did not care that he hurt some Vlad’s 2.0 feelings. The woman eagerly began speaking so he just repeated what she said. “Great, so she wants you to not let the Matt hatter ruin Alice in wonderland for you?” Danny looked at the lady like she had gone crazy. “Really, that���s what you’re starting with? Anyways.” He sighed.

The man had become silent at that. “Also, we I ask Alfie?” He looked at the spirit lady who nodded enthusiastically. “Give you the book he wrote named ‘how to navigate social situations: a step by step guide’ and use it to finally have a good talk with her grandson.” Okay, so rich dude had family issues. None of his business. “And, in her words, ‘chance the time on the grandfather clock, this is just getting depressing’ whatever that means.” The man was just silently staring at him now.

Another ghost tapped the lady on the shoulder before he turned to Danny too. “And great, another one joined.” They linked hands. “So it’s a date now, great.” He grumbled more to himself. So it was two friends who died and not just one. Okay, he could deal with that. “He says that they will always love you no matter what.” So it was a lovers affair instead of just friends? “And that the name you’re looking for is Edward Colson? Sheesh, was this a murder or something.” The two were getting more exited and talking his ears off.

“One at a time please.” He glared to mr. Wayne’s left. The man glancing behind him, predictably seeing nothing. “Anyways, was that what you came for? Or do you need anything else?” The man seemed to have actual tears in his eyes.

“You can see my parents?” Danny snapped his eyes to the two who looked sadly at their apparently son. Well, that explained the fashion choice. Also, that was almost worse then a love affair murder case.

Danny just stared at the man and didn’t really know what to say. He was translating this guys dead moms words to him. Ancients, he was an asshole. Stupid, idiotic, moronic move Fenton. Great, how to cut this off as soon as possible. “Only for a while. The power in this room will fade in a bit.” The man was a totally different person now. Danny hesitated. “Do you want to say anything to them?”

He thinks he had much more tact just now than in the past 10 minutes. “I’m sorry.” The two ghost seemed to decent on the man. Cooing at him, telling him he was not at fault, that he couldn’t know, couldn’t have done anything, was only a child when it happened.

“Ah screw it.” Danny said before making just the tip of his finger invisible. That should contain the spirits becoming visible in the area, right? He was still debating wether this was a mistake or not while the spirits of Martha and Thomas Wayne became visible to their sons eyes. Ancients he needs Jazz.

I’m a Size Medium, Thanks.

Danny is irritated. No actually he is beyond irritated. He is annoyed, he is frustrated, he is…. He’s really fricking irritated and can’t be bothered to remember any more of Jazz’s SAT words.

He continues his glare out the window as he searches for his straw with his mouth.

He just- where is it- thinks it’s a stupid fricking-stupid ass milkshake-he shouldn’t have to basically-gah! Danny snaps his head down to find his suddenly missing straw, only to successfully poke it directly into his eye.

“Ow! Fricken-“ He groans, throwing his head back, and putting his hands to his face, “Mother-tucker, Holy Taming of A Shrew!” He pounds his free hand not cradling his eye on the table, trying not to make more of a scene. Of course, this utterly fails because it immediately tips over his milkshake glass with a clatter as it spills onto his pants, making him jump up with enough force to knock the table over and drop the milkshake glass the rest of the way to the floor.

Danny stares at it with blurry vision and a watery eye. He sighs, “At least-“

The glass shatters.

Danny sighs again, deeper. “Of course.”

He looks up at the restaurant around him. Noticing the many, many people staring at him.

Wonderful.

Danny grimaces, “Sorry, I so didn’t mean for that to happen, uh-“ Danny reaches to straighten the table, fumbling for a second before it stands upright, he steps away from it, “If there’s any way I can help or.. like fix it. I can pay for the cup..” a server comes over to him, “if you want..?”

The server’s dead eyes don’t waver as they silently place a wet floor sign over the spilled milkshake.

“Thanks.”

“Uh huh.”

The server walks away, leaving Danny to sigh all on his own. He leans over to grab his backpack from the booth, checking it over for milkshake before slinging it on his back, thankfully clean.

He makes it one step forward before he feels the floor go out from under him. Ah gravity. His greatest enemy. This is karma for all those times he’s ignored it, isn’t it?

The wind is knocked out of him when his back slams to the floor, cushioned by the dulcet sounds of his bag crunching against broken glass.

He looks up at the wet floor sign.

The man on the yellow plastic mocks him.

Danny sighs.

He curses his stupid luck.

He curses this stupid city.

Then he curses himself because he knows any of this stupid city’s curses end up affecting him anyways.

Danny gets to his feet, ignoring the feeling of milkshake on his hands and his… everywhere.

He trudges out of the diner without looking back. At least he’d already paid for it.

He grimaces at the milkshake handprint on the door, trying to wipe it away with his shirt and only succeeding in making it worse.

Danny catches the eyes of the server inside, staring at him, eyes progressively more annoyed.

Danny puts his hands up in surrender and backs away.

Directly into a person. Only his milkshake covered self prevents him from being hit with anything more than the man’s scathing glare.

He puts his hands back up and moves away to dodge everybody else on the sidewalk. Along with the occasional ghost. Visible only to him of course.

By the time he has managed to escape the sidewalks into an alley, he is certain there is a trail of slightly sticky businessmen behind him.

Danny crouches to swing his backpack down in front of him and take stock. Okay, he could put his sweatshirt on over it… but it would also get ruined… damn it.

Danny looks around, checking every inch of the alley for cameras and then backing himself into a corner just to be safe. The flicker of intangibility is barely noticeable except for the wet squelch of milkshake remnants dropping to the alley floor. Lovely.

And of course, the flash of every single Gotham ghost in the area becoming visible and almost tangible for a split second. Also… lovely. There’s a couple startled shouts on the street.

Maybe an alleyway was not the best place for that.

Danny slides his sweatshirt on over his shirt to at least pretend like he was covering a mess and then shimmies out of the alley while trying to make as little contact with ghosts as possible.

He’s almost completely certain he looks crazy as all get out if the stare he gets from a passerby means anything.

Of course… now he’s left glaring across the street again.

He can feel the Infini-Map burning a hole in his backpack. It said this was the next place a natural portal would open and get him back home.

It just didn’t say… when that portal would open.

But of course, it’ll be right in the middle of somebody’s store. Usually not an issue. Except again, this stupid city’s curses are attracted to his energy, so of course the store couldn’t be literally ANYTHING ELSE!

Danny glares at the stupid fricking sign and the stupid predictable pun and the stupid neon hand in the front window waving at him.

‘The Claire Witch Project: psychic, medium, and Claire-voyant’

Danny is on day three of simultaneously avoiding the entire building while remaining close enough he can be there when the portal forms.

He is dirty, tired, and running out of money. In short, Danny is starting to lose hope on this endeavor.

The worst part?

He has the perfect solution.

There’s a pathetic little piece of printer paper taped to the inside of the window.

‘Help wanted’

When he’d first gotten here, Danny had followed the infini-map all the way to this horrific city, seen the sign, and turned a quick 180. He’d rather die again thanks.

He’d smacked into two billboards just coming into the city, and there was literally no stars, why would he want to stay here till the portal opened when he could just find another?

Except.. Danny’s eye twitches dangerously as he thinks back on it- except there wasn’t another portal. This was it. For the foreseeable future, he either caught this portal or was stranded for whoever knows how much longer.

Danny sighs again and dreads his continued existence. He looks both ways on the street, takes a step forward, nearly gets run over, steps back, and turns for the nearest crosswalk.

Fine. He could follow rules if it meant increasing his chances of leaving.

He tries to hold in the sigh this time, he really does, he swears.

Not the one before he opens the shop door though, that sigh deserved freedom from his trials. It joins the myriad of whispy translucent shades lingering in the store. Because of course there was just enough spiritual energy in here for them to be visible to him.

“Hey there!” A girl in loose fitting colorful clothing appears from behind a corner, “I’m Claire! How can I help your life journey today?” He can see the way her bulky crystal hair accessories sway with her movements. What was he getting into here again?

Danny tries to ignore the incense shoving itself up his nose as he speaks, “Hey, I was…” He was really doing this huh? “Hoping that the help wanted position is still available?”

The girl looks him over as she moves to the back of the checkout counter. The clear observation makes him nervous, and he takes his hands out of his pockets to try and look marginally more… candidate-able.

“You have experience?”

“Sure d-“ He wants to throw up in his own mouth, ancients this is so cringe, just let him die, “Sure do!” He says through choked back vomit and false cheer, “I’m a…” -barf- “I’m a medium.”

“Oh don’t worry about that, you don’t need a uniform, I don’t need your size silly!”

Danny blinks. What? Also. What?

“Wait-I’m hired?”

Claire pauses from getting something from under the counter, “Didn’t I already say that?”

“Uh…” Danny’s eyes dart around the shop, “No?”

“Oh well, you are, you have the right vibes, don’t worry,” she slides a few papers onto the glass counter, and Danny is abruptly, horrifically reminded he has no legal documents to speak of here. He thinks. He hasn’t actually checked.

Crap.

“Of course, most of my clients pay in cash, so I’ll pay you in cash too just to make it easier, and any crystal sales I’ll just add to it. Sound good?”

“Sure?” Oh no, is this gonna be Danny’s first real job? “But I don’t know anything about crystals. I have a goth friend but she’s not into that stuff.”

Claire waves his comment away, “Oh no worries, I can leave a packet.”

Danny nods, “Thank- wait, sorry. Leave?”

Claire laughs, pulling out a bag from behind her counter, “Yes I leave for a trip in two days. Family things you know,”

Danny feels like his brain is being scrambled, “Oh, what, what happened? Is everything okay?”

Claire looks at him, blinking wide, “What? Why would anything have happened?”

“Because… you said, you were leaving for-“

“Just don’t want to get caught in a bad position, you know how it is.”

Some of the shades stir in the air, their misty movements twitching with agitation enough to draw his eye for a second.

“Right. Well I’m glad I came when I did then,” Danny says, because he still doesn’t want to be rude.

Claire smiles at him.

Danny pats his hands against his sides awkwardly, trying not to look up at the movement of the shades intertwined with incense smoke at the ceiling.

There’s a little jingle behind him, which he belatedly realizes is the door when Claire moves to greet them before he can even turn around.

“Ms. Jives! Wonderful to see you! How’s the goldfish?”

Ms. Jives turns out to be a slightly older woman, maybe early seventies with a cane but she looks good. The coffee brown hair is almost certainly a dye job but it frames her wrinkled face well.

“Oh Jim is lovely dear, much better this way, I bought him a new plant just the other day, he just loves it.”

“Good, here for your reading right?”

“I am! But you can finish up with your customer first if you need,” Ms. Jives says. Claire waves her concern away.

“No need, this is Danny, I just hired him, he has a similar mystical connection.”

“Oh that’s lovely,” Ms. Jives says as she passes by him, “Would you like to come with dear? Claire is going to do a reading for me.”

Danny grimaces, “Sure.”

In the end, by the time Ms. Jives makes it slowly to the back room, Danny is trying to think of where he’s gonna sleep tonight. He mostly zones out when Claire dims the lights and starts talking nonsense.

All he heard was “something something card, something something magician something reversed something something balance something something chihuahua.”

Ok, maybe he wasn’t listening. But he was trying to focus on not staring at the movement of the shades, and the incense was mega strong and Claire had some weird ass music playing. He’s almost certain she’s faking everything. Down to the atrociously bright bead earrings.

Danny sags when she finishes, all too happy to leave the weird little curtain covered room.

He stands in the front awkwardly while Ms. Jives pays, twiddling with the various crystals and trying to figure which ones are actually y’know.. mystical or whatever.

Answer? Surprisingly most of them. That he could tell, at least, but it’s not like he actually knows how to sense that out on purpose. He’s pretty sure a couple of the heart shaped rose quartzes are complete duds but what does he care.

He’s thoroughly bored by the time Claire calls him back over. Apparently to tell him that he’ll do a reading tomorrow.

“Tomorrow?!” Danny blurts, “Don’t you want to like- I don’t know, make sure I can- or like.. I don’t know, but tomorrow?”

Claire just smiles at him, “I believe you can handle it, trust me.”

‘Trust you? Lady, I just met you and you’ve been nothing but crazy the whole time!’ Danny wants to say, instead, he keeps his mouth shut and nods with what he’s sure is fear in his eyes.

Then she’s pressing something into his hands and when he looks down it’s a key. A key. There’s no way-

“So be here 9am sharp, Danny! You can open up and I’ll come in later!” Claire starts pushing him towards the door, “And Mr. Wayne should be waiting for you when you get here!”

Danny turns around to catch himself in the doorframe, “Mr who will be what now!? Wait, Ms. Claire, Ma’am- why-!” He stops to lower his volume and ask politely, “Why am I doing this? You don’t even know me,” Danny says, one leg still in the store.

Claire smiles, “Because the universe told me to silly! See you tomorrow! Here’s my number!” Then she slaps a sticky note to his chest with enough finality that Danny takes a step back. The door closes with a click and ring of the bell inside.

Danny stares at the door with his eye twitching for at least a minute.

What the hell did ‘the universe told me to’ even mean, you kook!?

Danny sighs and looks down at the sticky note, quickly inputting the number in his phone before something happens to it.

He’s barely hit save when he finally steps away from the shop front and…. is immediately drenched to the bone.

Because apparently it’d been pouring rain and he simply hadn’t noticed from under the awning.

He watches as blue ink slides off the sticky note in little sad face streaks.

Danny sighs.

[trixy812]

Can I request an instance where jjk men have been busy lately and y/n sees jjk men out with another woman (she doesn't know the woman is a relative or coworker) and y/n shoots at them and just barely misses. 😂😂😂 preferably Toji, Sukuna and Shiu? I feel like those men would be the only ones that would be secretly turned on by their girl shooting at them

╰┈➤ JJK Men haven’t spent time with you and suddenly you see them with another woman.

୨ৎContent: suggestive, jealousy, toxic behavior, Female!Reader,

୨ৎAn: omgomgomg, this is my first request EVER and it’s from my twiniii <3! I am very happy about this and I really hope you like it and I just hope this is the beginning for a long a cool internet friendship <3 <3 btw, the end of Gojo's was inspired from a parks&recs blooper (Gojo has Andy Dwyer energy). I have to say that writing Toji and Sukuna was really hard, i hope I did justice to all of them.

୨ৎIncl: Toji, Sukuna, Gojo, Nanami

‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡‧₊˚

It’s been almost two weeks without a hug or a kiss from your boyfriend. Although you’ve kept in touch daily through texts and calls, intrusive thoughts won’t stop tying a knot in your stomach. While walking down empty streets, you finally decide to focus on what your student Mai is telling you, hoping to clear your mind. But it’s impossible. Your anxious mind keeps conjuring up clichéd scenes: "What if he’s cheating on me?"

As if fate wanted to mock you, a few meters ahead, you see your boyfriend escorting an attractive woman to a taxi. You freeze in place, and Mai asks if everything’s alright. You watch the taxi drive away, while the knot in your stomach ignites, ready to make you explode. Without a second thought, you grab Mai's gun, not giving her a chance to react, and shoot at your dear — and potentially unfaithful — boyfriend. You miss.

ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ! ❀ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ! ❀ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ! ❀ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ! ❀ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ!

Toji

Toji is surprised, but he’s having the time of his life. He doesn’t feel intimidated in the slightest. He stares at you, raising an eyebrow with a mocking smile.

“Seriously? Jealous of my coworker?” he asks, trying to embarrass you.

"Coworker, my ass!" you yell, your face completely flushed.

Toji laughs, and although he’d never admit it, he feels flattered by your jealousy. He slowly steps closer to you.

“If you wanted to practice your aim, at least do it right” he says, spinning you around to embrace you from behind. With a provocative smile, he guides your hand to press the gun against his temple “I think this is the only way you’d ever hit your target.”

His taunting only fuels your anger.

“Relax, you have no competition” he whispers playfully in your ear, tightening his hold on you, pressing you against him. You can immediately feel his boner, which shocks you enough to drop the gun. He laughs wholeheartedly and let go of you as if nothing had happened.

Sukuna

Though he’s irritated, Sukuna is thoroughly entertained. He gives you that intense look you know well, one that shows he doesn’t like being challenged.

“Did you try to hurt me? How adorable” he says, his tone dry and dangerous “Are you insane?”

“You bastard! You’re the one who drives me insane with your stupid antics. Now, who the hell is she?” you scream as loud as your lungs allow.

Sukuna lets out a mocking, sarcastic laugh, enjoying the scene. Deep down, he feels flattered by your intensity, though he’d never admit it. He steps closer, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Jealous? Really? I don’t have time for this nonsense” he says, pulling back with a sinister smile. Turning his back on you, he dares you to react again. He glances over his shoulder, throwing you a challenging look “Maybe you do have reasons to be jealous, who knows?”

Each word only makes your blood boil more. You approach him with clenched fists.

“Maybe you should be more worried. Maybe she really was someone special” he says, provoking you even further.

You can’t take it anymore and throw a punch at him, which he catches easily. With his other hand, he entangles his fingers in your hair, tugging gently but firmly, tilting your face toward his.

“Calm down, darling. No one else compares to you” he whispers, with that blend of mockery and defiance.

Gojo

Although he saw the shot coming (I mean with the six eyes… duh), the sound of the gunfire still startles Gojo.

“Wow, that was a refreshing scare!” he says with a grin, treating it as a joke.

“I’m only going to ask you once: who is she?” your voice comes out louder than expected.

Gojo is thrilled, loving the spectacle of seeing you angry and jealous. Using his cursed energy, he makes the bullet float in front of you, mocking you.

“Babe, the bullet didn’t even come close enough to activate my Infinity” he jokes, trying to lighten the moment “Good thing hand-to-hand combat is your strength because your aim is terrible”

You shoot him a death glare, and that hits its mark. Gojo smiles, approaching playfully. He deactivates his technique and wraps you in a hug to calm you down.

“Come on, you know I only have eyes for you” he assures, hoping to see you smile before letting go.

Although you do smile, the irritation lingers. Taking advantage of his deactivated technique, you slap him.

“Do it again” he says, totally captivated, and you oblige with another slap. He writhes in sinuous movements, as if his entire body is struggling to escape an invisible hold.

“Do you have a… boner?” you ask, noticing his reaction.

He doesn’t respond, but it’s obvious. You smile, incredulous.

"Duuuuuuuuuuuude!" you shout, turning around and walking away

"No one has slapped me before" he stands there, beaming stupidly.

Nanami

Nanami sighs, adjusts his glasses, and looks at you with disapproval.

"You shot at me? Seriously?" he says calmly.

Without losing his composure, he steps closer as a few tears roll down your cheeks.

"If you have something to say, I’d rather you say it than shoot at me" he says, surprised but trying to understand.

"I haven’t seen you in two weeks! And when I finally do, it’s by chance…" you shout, not caring if anyone hears. "And with another woman! What the hell, Kento?"

"I don’t think a scene is necessary. That woman is my cousin" he replies, not trying to invalidate your feelings, only to clarify. "You know I’d never do anything to make you doubt me."

He steps closer, placing a hand on your shoulder. You’ve missed him so much that you throw yourself into his arms as if you’ll never let go. In that embrace, Nanami realizes just how much his absence has affected you.

"I didn’t realize how much this was affecting you. I’m sorry for not being there" he hugs you back, kissing the top of your head and gently running his fingers through your hair "You’re important to me, and if you want more time together, that’s exactly what we’ll have."

≽^- ˕ -^≼

Mai sighs in exasperation, watching the scene while retrieving her gun.

"And I’m supposed to look up to this person?"

[sandwitchstories]

Do you want to build a snow man?

Welcome back to more adventures in Mouse's Mini-verse! I just can't get enough of these two together!

For more adventures with Mouse, check out my Dad!Sukuna Series on my AO3 - Here! )

If you prefer to read this story on AO3 click here !

Author's Note: For anyone new to my Dad!Sukuna Series, Mouse is Sukuna's, currently, 2 year old daughter with reader.

Summary: Sukuna harbors a tiny pink haired fugitive and then becomes his daughter's accomplice.

WC: 900+

CW: reader is referred to as 'Mama' but not described, toddler dad Sukuna, girl dad!sukuna, true form Sukuna (4 arms), it's pretty much just plain Dilf Sukuna fluff and crack, SFW in every way, just family fluff, father and daughter fluff, I love them together, Uraume makes an appearance, with a meat cleaver

Sukuna sat on the tatami mat in the main room, letting the early morning sun warm him through the open shoji doors while he worked on paperwork, his writing elegant and formal. Sukuna took great pride in everything he did right down to his handwriting. Sloppy chicken scratch was unbecoming. 

The sound of little feet slapping on the floor hit his ears long before Mouse’s little frame slid in through the shoji doors leading into the main room from the hall. She booked it over to him and ran behind him. He looked over his head in confusion as she lifted the edge of his haori and put herself directly under it.

Mouse popped her head out quickly and looked up at him. She pressed a finger to her lips and shushed at him. “A secret, Papa. A secret!” 

And with that she completely disappeared under his haori. He shook his head but said nothing. Between your genetics and Mouse being only 2 years old… He did not even try to make sense of what was going on.

That was, until he heard louder footsteps rushing towards them. He set down his brush and looked up, wondering what on Earth the issue could be. He had been enjoying a quiet morning for a change… He raised an eyebrow as an unusually disheveled looking Uraume appeared at the door with a hand behind their back.

Uraume took a knee in respect before asking, “Forgive me for interrupting. Have you seen Mouse anywhere, Master Sukuna?”

“Is there a reason you are trying to locate the brat?” He cocked his head. 

“None. None at all… I was just looking for her to give her some… cooking lessons,” Uraume said with a smile. “I’ll take my leave.”

Sukuna watched as the winter haired warrior stood and turned to make their way back into the hallway, but not before Sukuna noted they were hiding a damn meat cleaver behind their back. Once the door was closed Sukuna spoke.

“Come out, Mouse. I think the coast is cl-”

The door opened again and this time it was you, flustered and almost sputtering. “Have you seen our precious little daughter anywhere?”

“What is going on? Uraume was just in here looking for her too.”

“Well, you better hope I find her before Uraume makes her into toddler tenderloin!”

Well, that explained the meat cleaver. “And this is all because…”

“Mouse got into the flour and made the biggest mess you have ever seen.”

“That’s what the big issue is?”

“Uraume slipped on it when they were in pursuit of Mouse…”

Sukuna blinked all 4 of his eyes slowly, digesting this information. But then… then he began to imagine the scene in his head… and he threw his head back laughing.

“You’ve finally lost your mind, haven’t you?” you asked with hands on your hips.

“Mouse, come out,” Sukuna chuckled.

You hurried to shut the shoji door behind you, hissing out, “I had a feeling you were harboring a fugitive!”

Mouse moved to his side and lifted his haori to rest on top of her head. “Hi Mama…”

“Hi Mouse,” you said, moving to stand in front of the two of them looking down at her. “Want to tell me what happened?”

“No, please and thank you,” she said, going back under Sukuna’s haori.

Sukuna’s lips twitched in amusement at her answer. “Mouse. Why did you make a mess in the kitchen?”

Her head popped out to look up at her father. She regarded him for a moment as if trying to decide what route she was going to go. She opted to give him a big toothy grin and wrap herself around his arm. “Hi Papa.”

“We’re past that now,” he said, grabbing a hold of her and putting her in his lap. “Answer the question.”

“I not trying to make a mess,” she said, looking up at you both with big doe eyes. 

“What were you trying to do?” he asked. 

“I want to do snow angels,” she answered.

“Huh?” you guys asked in unison.

She looked at the two of you like you were slow. She proceeded to climb out of his lap, lay down on the floor between you and say, “Snow angels.” Followed immediately by a demonstration.

“Mouse… flour isn’t snow… it’s not even cold…” you stared at her in disbelief.

“It white and it soft,” she replied, as if explaining herself, still laying on the floor.

“Brat…” Sukuna looked down at her, pondering her lack of common sense. Then again, she was only two. “You know Uraume can make ice. They can also make snow.”

Sukuna immediately questioned his words as he watched Mouse’s eyes get even bigger before she leapt off the ground like an expert martial artist and bolted out of the room yelling for Uraume. You looked at him like you wanted to ring his neck before you took off after the toddler who was unknowingly now on a suicide mission to make snow angels in the middle of August.  

Sukuna glanced down at the paperwork he had been working on. It no longer held his interest. He stood and fixed his robes as he headed towards the kitchen where he could hear a commotion. You were absolutely going to tell him he was part of this problem… Sukuna grinned at that thought. Well, if he was going to be on your shit list either way… why be part of the problem when he could be the whole damn problem?

He called out to the three of you as he came down the hall. “Mouse! Forget snow angels! Let's make a snowman!”