#one day he’s gonna just have an Oh Shit moment

[inkandapex]

stream madness pt. 2

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Lando Norris embraced his now-public relationship as a chance to openly and unapologetically adore his girlfriend. Fans saw it as a win—though it came at the cost of Max F constantly getting roped into their antics.

Words: 4.8k

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, suggestive dialogue

Protect Max

Fans were absolutely loving how Y/N had become a bigger part of Max’s streams. They got to see a side of her they’d never caught on social media and beyond the glimpses from the paddock with Lando.

It was just another day of chatting and gaming for the two during a break between races, the pair sat in an ever familiar room in Lando's place in Monaco, but with him absent as Max had mentioned he went out for training.

"We just agreed on not using grenades you cheat! Lando's rubbing off on you way too much. I don't like it" Max exclaims as his character on Counterstrike once again, gets killed by Y/N less than a minute into the round.

"Oh go cry about it Max, just admit I'm better than you" Y/N smirks as she grabs her water bottle to take a sip

"You cheated! I got absolutely knocked by that"

"Fine! You big baby, no grenades this time, promise" Y/N groans as they start another round

"they're so sibling coded" "not bob getting dethroned from being Max's gaming partner" "she's so gonna beat Max again this round"

“Okay, chat, no need to rub salt in the wound—by the way, I was the one who taught you how to play, you should be grateful—shit!”

Max was mid-sentence when Y/N sniped him, knocking him out of the game and securing yet another win—this time, fair and square.

“The student becomes the master,” she smirked, leaning back in her chair, clearly enjoying the moment.

"What's going on here?" the mic picks up Lando's voice before he even enters the frame.

"I'm absolutely dominating on counterstrike—did you just get back?" A playful smile spreads across Y/N's face as Lando walks into the room, standing behind her chair and gently massaging her shoulders.

"I've already showered and everything. Been here the past 30 minutes, you two were too busy bickering—I could hear you all the way down the hall," Lando chuckles, looking down at her with a cheeky grin.

He leans in, but Y/N quickly shifts away, avoiding the kiss.

"You're avoiding my kisses now?" Lando teases, his mouth hanging open in mock surprise.

"The stream, Lan..." Y/N mutters, a little pout on her lips, making Lando laugh softly.

"Alright baby, for our eyes only, yeah?" Lando smirks, leaning back down while reaching for the camera, his hand covering it just in time to hide their kiss.

"Hello?! My eyes! My eyes! What about Max’s eyes?!" Max's shout makes the two burst into laughter as Lando pulls his hand away, revealing Max’s face, twisted in utter disgust.

"lol poor max" "bet he misses P a lil extra today" "i think im going to cardiac arrest they're so cute"

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Snitches get stiches

The night before testing in Bahrain, Lando hopped onto Max’s stream for a few rounds, confident as ever. After absolutely schooling Max, he decided it was time to call it a night, shutting down his setup and stepping away.

What he didn’t step away from, however, was the chat.

Curled up in bed, phone in hand, Lando lurked—dropping smug messages every few minutes. No matter how much Max tried to ignore him, chat was loving it, egging Lando on as he tormented his friend from the shadows.

" 'Just take the L—' Mate, I did take the L. You’re the one still lurking in chat," Max laughed, shaking his head as yet another message from Lando popped up. "You have testing tomorrow, by the way."

Then, a new message appeared.

"Ed said he let you win this morning."

Max smirked, grabbing his phone. Without a word, he held up a finger to the camera and pressed dial. The stream went quiet as he waited. After a few rings, a familiar voice came through the speaker.

"Hey, Y/N, you alright? Sorry if I woke you. You’re in Bahrain with Lando, yeah?" Max finally said, his grin growing wider at the thought of absolutely snitching on his best friend.

"Hey, Maxie. No you're good, just in the other room catching up on work. Lando went to bed about an hour ago. Everything okay? Do I need to wake him up?" Y/N sounded concerned.

"Yeah, 'bout that... he’s wide awake, actually—just finished streaming golf with me. Wouldn’t leave my chat."

The pause on the other end was almost too satisfying. Max leaned back, waiting patiently, his smirk never fading. The sound of rustling and soft footsteps had him turning up the volume, bringing his phone closer to the mic. He even covered his mouth, stifling his laughter, determined to catch this golden moment in all its glory.

"bro is cooked" "oh no she's mad" "not max snitching on lando AGAIN"

"You’ve got testing tomorrow, Lan." "Fucking snitch, Max! Grow up!" Lando’s voice barely made it through, muffled. "You said you were going to bed an hour ago," Y/N said, clearly not amused. "Baby, I am in bed," Lando mumbled, his tone defensive. "You were just playing with Max—" "—For one round, my love. I’m in bed now, aren’t I?" "Don’t play me, Norris. Go to sleep, or I’m taking your phone away." “How am I supposed to sleep without you next to me, huh?” Lando’s voice was full of fake desperation, stretching the words out like he was pleading for a lifeline.

“Right, well, now I’m about to throw up,” Max interrupted, cutting through the conversation with his dry humour.

"Fewtrell, you knew better. shouldn't have entertained him when he asked you to play." "yeah that's right! you get him baby" "Didn't I say go to sleep? I'm telling Jon about this tomorrow" "This isn't over Max!" Lando manages to shout before the line cuts.

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Taking her back

Lando, Max, and Y/N had been best friends long before Lando and Y/N started dating, and though Lando loved how well his girlfriend and best mate got along, there were times when his jealousy got the best of him.

"Baby, come on. You've been playing with Max forever!" Lando whined, his voice dripping with playful frustration. Both Y/N and Max paused their game, turning to see Lando dramatically sprawled out in the chair behind them, looking all sorts of pouty.

"Lan, you’ve been glued to your phone for the past two hours," Y/N teased with a laugh. "We’ve asked you to join us, like, a million times"

"That’s different!" Lando huffed. "I need you. Did you not miss me? It’s the first time we’ve seen each other in a week!" He gave them a puppy-dog look, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile at his adorable pout.

"A week’s not that long, mate," Max teased, unable to resist poking fun.

"Shut up, you dickhead. I wasn’t talking to you," Lando snapped back, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. "You're only saying that because P’s been with you the whole time."

"Y/N is literally 6 feet away from you—" Max shot back, raising an eyebrow.

"—Yeah? And you’re about 6 feet away from getting punched," Lando retorted, his playful threat making everyone laugh.

"You’re so easy to wind up," Max said, shaking his head in amusement, clearly enjoying Lando's reaction.

"Very mature, you two," Y/N spoke up, watching the back-and-forth between Lando and Max with an amused smile.

"Baby, please, can we kick Max out? I need some me and you time," Lando groaned, rolling his chair closer to Y/N, his eyes full of exaggerated desperation.

"Lando, chat asked her to join my stream today," Max protested, raising an eyebrow. "You’re really gonna steal her away from them?"

"They’re stealing her away from me right now," Lando shot back, narrowing his eyes playfully at the camera.

"Alright, you big baby, one more round, then we'll leave Max alone," Y/N chuckled, turning to face Lando and gently running her hand through his hair.

"No. Now," Lando pouted, shamelessly showing just how needy he was, making Y/N laugh as she gave him a soft, teasing look.

"I'm about this close to bleaching my eyes and ears, mate," Max teased, smirking at the chaos unfolding.

"I'm about this close to kicking you out of my flat—" Lando leaned forward, narrowing his eyes at Max.

"—OKAY. Chat, my kids are throwing tantrums now, I think it’s time for me to go," Y/N sighed in defeat, sitting up straight with a playful roll of her eyes. "You two are impossible." She gave both of them an exasperated but affectionate look, knowing she’d have to be the voice of reason.

"boooo! not bob stealing y/n from us" "NOOO don't leave Y/N" "LN being selfish lol" "hes neeeedy"

Max let out a laugh as he read through the chat, clearly enjoying the chaos. "They're booing you, mate—yeah, chat! That's right! He’s stealing Y/N from us!" Max egged them on, his voice full of mischief.

Just as Y/N stood up from her seat, ready to leave, Lando grabbed her arm, pulling her back down onto his lap. He held her firmly by the waist, giving her a quick kiss.

Y/N gently shoved him, standing up again with a soft laugh, trying to hide the flustered look that had crept onto her face from his sudden move. Lando, now sporting a proud smirk, looked straight at the camera. "Gotta take my girl back now, chat," he said with a playful wink. "We’ll see you guys next time."

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Look at my girl

"Did you get the code? I sent it to you on WhatsApp," Lando said, setting his phone down and turning his attention back to his screen as he finished setting up the game.

"Yep, got it. We're using in-game mics, yeah?" Max replied, joining the lobby.

Before Lando could answer, a soft knock echoed through the room. He instinctively pulled off one side of his headphones, swiveling his chair to find Y/N standing by the door.

"I'm heading out now, bub" her voice carried through the mic, chat flooded with messages about how soft Lando’s gaze had just turned.

"Look at you all dressed up—where are you headed, my pretty girl?" Lando smirked, leaning back in his chair, eyes shamelessly trailing over his girlfriend.

A blush crept up Y/N’s cheeks as she shifted on her feet, slightly embarrassed by her boyfriend’s proud declaration. "I’m having lunch with Alex today, remember?"

"You look beautiful, my love," Lando murmured, his grin widening before turning back to his stream. "Chat, doesn’t Y/N look absolutely stunning?"

"Maate, start the bloody game!" Max groaned, dragging out the words in frustration.

Y/N chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Alright, Lan, I gotta go—they're arriving soon."

"Alex is picking you up?" Lando asked, tilting his head as he kept his eyes on her.

Y/N nodded. "Charles offered to drop us off at the restaurant. I'll bring you home food, and I’ll send you the menu when I get there."

Lando’s expression softened. "Have fun, my love. Text me if you need anything."

"Got it. Bye, chat—" Y/N smiled, giving a small wave as she stepped out the door.

"—What?! Hey, hey, no! Come back—baby, my kiss!" Lando whined, nearly pushing himself out of his seat, watching her leave with a dramatic pout.

She let out a playful groan but stepped back into the room, making her way toward Lando.

"Look at her, everyone—stunning," Lando grinned, taking her hand in his. "Alright, bye, gorgeous. Have a great time."

Y/N smirked, holding her hand up to the camera—mimicking the way Lando had covered it on a previous stream—before leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips.

"Thanks for that, Y/N, really appreciate the modesty," Max's voice rang through Lando's headphones, dripping with sarcasm. "Hope you do that to my eyes next time, yeah?"

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Don't look at my girl

Lando had been on Twitch for a good hour now, casually playing UNO with Max and a few other friends on who were on Discord. It was all easygoing banter, a way to kill time before diving into a more intense Tarkov session.

Y/N walked in not too long after, carefully balancing plates of food in her hands. Without looking up from his screen, Lando muttered a quick, “Thanks, love,” too focused on his cards to even glance her way.

It wasn’t until the chat suddenly exploded with rapid messages that his attention flickered toward the comments. His brows furrowed, eyes scanning the screen.

"hi Y/N" "okay hot mama!" "Y/N you look stunning babe" "can Lando fight?"

“‘Can Lando fight’—chat, what the fuck?” he scoffed, finally turning his head toward his girlfriend.

And then he saw it.

The slightly cropped, low-necklined tank top hugging her in all the right places, a sight he was very much happy to see, just not so happy to share with the rest of the world.

His reaction was instant. “Baby… where’s the rest of your shirt?” Lando whined, reaching out to tug at the hem of her top as if he could magically make it longer.

Y/N only laughed, swatting his hands away. “It’s literally just a tank top, Lando.”

“Yeah, and apparently, it’s starting fights in my chat.” He shot a glare at the screen before narrowing his eyes at her playfully.

As Y/N stood up, completely unaware of the way the camera was angled, she leaned forward slightly to grab something from behind the monitor.

Lando, ever vigilant with his quick reflexes, moved faster than ever, one hand darting out to cover her chest while the other reached for the mouse, ready to slam the stream off if necessary.

“Woah, woah—baby! Careful, please,” he blurted out, eyes wide as he practically shielded her from the world.

Connor’s laughter echoed through the call. “LN’s about to have a heart attack, mate.”

Y/N, finally realizing what had just happened, let out a soft laugh as she sat back down, napkins now in hand. “I was just grabbing these, bub. Calm down.”

Lando let out a dramatic sigh, clutching his chest like he’d just lived through a near-death experience. “Baby, please, I’m begging—could you put on a hoodie or something?” His voice was almost desperate, eyes flicking between her and the chat that was going absolutely feral.

Y/N raised a brow, arms crossing over her chest. “You’re overreacting.”

“Yeah, well, they’re not getting a free show,” Lando huffed, shooting a glare at the screen before rolling his eyes. With one last grumble, he finally turned his attention back to his game, picking up his fork to dig into dinner—all while side-eyeing the chat every few seconds.

Meanwhile, Max was wheezing through his mic. “I swear you just aged five years.”

Connor chuckled. “Bro’s fighting battles no one else can see.”

"still cant believe he was able to pull her" "Y/N leave him be with me" "she looks unreal" "lando better know how to fight"

Lando didn’t say a word, just stood up abruptly and rushed out of the room, leaving his friends confused as his turn in UNO was about to run out.

“Where’s he gone now?” Max muttered, clicking onto Lando’s stream, only to see Y/N sitting there, casually eating and playing in his place.

She simply shrugged, unfazed, taking Lando’s turn for him as she popped another bite of food into her mouth. A few seconds later, Lando reappeared, arms full, determination set on his face.

“Pick.”

“Huh?” Y/N blinked up at him, mid-chew.

“Pick one. Shirt, hoodie, or blanket?” He stood in front of her, dead serious, holding up the options like this was a life-or-death decision.

Y/N let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Baby, pick.” Lando repeated, unwavering.

“Lan, it’s really not that—”

Before she could even finish, he had already tossed the clothes onto the floor and made the executive decision himself, unfolding the blanket and draping it over her shoulders. “Right, blanket it is.”

Y/N sat there, wrapped up like a burrito, staring at him in amused disbelief.

Max was howling through the mic. “Mate, she’s looks like she's about to go to bed”

Lando glanced over at her, a proud grin spreading across his face as he admired his work. “There. Better,” he said, his tone smug but warm, clearly pleased with himself for making sure she was all cozy and covered up.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at how serious he was about it, “You’re ridiculous, you know that?” she teased, tugging the blanket a little lower, enough to free her hands.

“I’m just making sure you’re comfy,” he replied, his grin only widening. “Don’t want you catching a chill, do I?”

She shook her head, playfully rolling her eyes, but the smile she gave him was all warmth. “You’re something else, Lan.”

Lando only winked, clearly pleased with his efforts. “I try.”

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Rumour has it

It had only been a couple of weeks since Lando and Y/N had last been seen together in public, but the internet had exploded. Breakup rumors, theories about a fallout, and even claims of a “divorce era” started circulating among fans. Of course, Lando and Y/N found it all utterly ridiculous. But why not have a bit of fun with it?

Tonight, Max was streaming, and Lando was, as usual, by his side. The chat was absolutely flooded with questions and speculations, with fans wondering where Y/N had gone, why they hadn’t seen them together lately, and if they were still a couple. Usually, they wouldn't entertain it, but Lando couldn’t help but grin at the chaos as Max glanced at him, his face filled with mischief.

“Mate, you’ve been dodging questions for weeks now. People are asking if you and Y/N are okay. What's going on? Is it true? Are you in the ‘divorce era’ now?” Max teased, his voice full of drama.

Lando leaned back in his chair, groaning. “Oh don't even say her name around me. We're happily separated,” he said with exaggerated seriousness. He watched as the chat went wild, fans speculating whether he was joking or not.

"this is NOT funny im fighting for my life over here" "i honestly cant tell if hes serious pls" "stop asking ab their personal lives guys" "theyre clearly fine, look at him" "oh theyre fine lol"

Max laughed, clearly enjoying it. “Heard it here first chat, there you go”

Lando shrugged dramatically. “Sometimes, I still hear her voice"

Before Max could respond, the door behind Lando opened. Y/N walked in casually, wearing one of Lando’s hoodies, hair up in a messy bun. She stopped when she saw the camera, raising an eyebrow at Lando’s ridiculous grin.

“Hey, guys,” she said, giving the camera a casual wave.

"See! it's like she's still here” Lando pretends to wipe a tear

Max burst into laughter, while Y/N, confused as ever, attempts to read the chat. "Why are you guys talking about me like I've died?"

Lando looked at her with all seriousness. “Baby please. We're broken up remember, gosh keep up will 'ya"

Y/N nods, the expression on her face immediately switching from confused to locked in. "Oh— guys, being in this room right now pains me. I can't even look at him"

Max, lounging back in his chair with a smirk, couldn't help but shake his head. "You two were definitely eating up this breakup rumour stuff, huh?"

Lando and Y/N couldn't help but break, letting out small laughs at the comment. “Oh fuck yeah, we’ve been lying in bed, giggling like idiots, reading threads and watching tiktoks about it,” Lando said, acting like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“We purposely stopped liking each other’s posts and hid from the public" Y/N grinned, “And had so much fun doing it,” she added, sticking her tongue out at the camera.

Max threw his hands up. “You lot deserve an Oscar for this shit”

Lando, still grinning, nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, mate, you’re telling me— I had Carlos knocking at my hotel room at three in the fucking morning after reading some random breakup article online.”

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Not so subtle

It was well past 1 AM, but Lando was still wide awake, glued to his Twitch stream, deep into another round of Tarkov with his friends. The chat was slowly saying their goodnights, viewers logging off one by one—but Lando? He and the guys were more awake than ever, already planning a few more rounds like the night had just begun.

Y/N was not one to stop Lando from enjoying his alone time, but it was getting late. She had just finished yet another episode of her go-to comfort show—but sleep still hadn’t come. With a glance at the clock and a sigh, she finally got up, padding toward the other room. Maybe she could convince Lando to get some rest… or at least come fill the cold, empty space beside her.

“Baby… it’s late, come to bed.”

Y/N’s soft voice barely stood a chance against Lando’s, drowned out by his rapid-fire strategy talk and the sharp bursts of gunfire from his game. He didn’t even flinch, too locked in, too focused.

It wasn’t until she stepped closer, bathed in the soft glow of his monitors, that the chat began to stir, messages flooding in at the sight of her. Only then did Lando pull off one side of his headset, glancing up at her with a lazy smile.

“Hi, gorgeous. Thought you were asleep already,” he murmured, seamlessly giving out directions to his teammates in the same breath.

“Couldn’t sleep… You should come to bed now. It’s late.”

“I know, baby. Just give me ten minutes, alright?”

“Bedtime for little Lando?” Connor teased, earning a chuckle from Max and an eye roll from Lando.

“Shut up, Connor."

Instead of leaving, Y/N plopped down in the free chair beside him, mindlessly scrolling through her phone. She barely noticed how time slipped by—until she glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes had passed since Lando promised he’d be done.

“Lan, it’s been 15.”

“10 more minutes, baby. Just a little longer,” he mumbled, eyes still glued to the screen.

"he's so stubborn lol" "poor y/n" "listen to ur gf pls lando, im sleepy but i have fomo"

Another 15 minutes passed, and Y/N, now visibly annoyed, let out a sigh. “Lando.” No pet name. Just his name. Max chuckled on the other end.

“Mate, I’d log off now if I were you. Y/N is scary when she’s tired and cranky.”

Lando glanced over, taking in her tired expression. “Baby, go to bed, you look exhausted… I’ll be there soon, okay? C’mere, gimme a kiss.”

Smooth. A clear attempt to buy himself a little more time.

Y/N gave him a blank stare, then simply nodded before standing up. No protest, no further attempts to drag him to bed. Instead, she turned to the stream with a small smile.

“Okay… goodnight, guys. Have fun playing with Lan. Goodnight, baby.”

Lando blinked, a little surprised that his plan actually worked. He grinned up at her, feeling triumphant, until she leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, her lips barely brushing his ear as she whispered.

“I was gonna let you have me any way you wanted tonight… your loss.”

His smirk vanished instantly, his head following Y/N's trail, now exiting the room.

"WHAT DID SHE SAY OMG" "look at his face she definitely said something" "bro is cooked lmao" "lando fumbled baaad"

Beyond distracted by what his girlfriend just whispered in his ear, he misses an opponent causing Max to get killed in game earning a battering of complaints

"Gotta log off now guys, goodnight" Lando, without saying a proper goodbye, had managed turn everything off, leaving both the game and his stream in record breaking time.

Max, watching Lando vanish without a word, quickly put the pieces together as the chat exploded with teasing. Realizing he could save his friend from some serious trouble, Max cleared his throat and leaned into the microphone.

“Bet she’s got him in trouble now. He’s probably getting an earful for keeping her waiting.” Max grinned, adding, “Man’s gonna need a serious apology when he gets off. You know how it is—no escaping when she’s upset.”

Even the chat could pick-up how he's working extra hard to save the his best friends from a PR nightmare.

"Max working extra hard tonight" "LN and Y/N got Max sweating bullets lol his face" "Max being the bigger man, respect" "Theyre bout to hear an earful from max too after this"

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Shameless

Chat was going wild. It was a random Friday night, no announcements, yet, somehow, Lando had appeared with his own stream. Even Max, mid-game, was caught off guard when the messages started rolling in, asking him to play with Lando.

Lando, sitting in his chair, still looked like he had just stepped out of the shower, his hair damp, he wore a matching grey sweatsuit and hoodie.

“What’s going on, mate? You’re back early. Thought you two were out for dinner?” Max’s unmistakable voice crackled through the speakers as he joined the group Discord, clearly catching onto the sudden shift in the vibe.

“Aye chat, Max is here! Yeah, mate, we were, but got back home and decided to hop on,” Lando cheered, clearly stoked to hear his friend's voice.

“Loving the enthusiasm, man. You seem happy tonight. You up for some golf?” Max chuckled, amused by the energy radiating off Lando.

“We can play whatever you want, Max. Feeling really lucky tonight,” Lando replied, a grin spreading across his face.

Max raised an eyebrow, eyeing him with a teasing smirk. “You’re worrying me a bit, mate. You sick or somethin’? Bit too happy for my liking.”

Lando just kept dancing and singing along to his music, looking even more upbeat, and Max couldn't help but laugh. “Alright, what’s going on with you, seriously?”

It was as if the universe had perfectly timed it—Y/N walked into the room, completely unaware that her boyfriend had already started his stream. She was wearing nothing but the white long-sleeved button-up shirt he had worn during their date earlier that night, the one fans had captured in photos. Her hair was slightly messy, giving her a carefree, just-rolled-out-of-bed look as she casually walked in.

"Lan, did you see my cleanser by any chance? It’s not in the bathroom." Y/N stood just by the door, just enough to be in frame of Lando’s camera.

As soon as she appeared, the chat went wild, and Max couldn’t help but laugh, not even attempting to rescue them this time. “Hey Y/N, my chat's saying Lando’s shirt looks better on you than it did on him.”

Y/N froze for a few seconds, her face turning bright red before she quickly dashed out of the room, her voice still audible through the mic as she shouted, “Lando Norris, you little shit!”

Lando, in too good of a mood to keep it together, couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright, chat, calm down—we’re all adults here.” He leaned back in his chair, a grin spreading across his face as he wiped away a few tears of laughter.

After a beat, he stood up, still chuckling to himself. “I’ll be back in a minute, guys.”

He left the room, probably heading off to help Y/N find her cleanser, maybe even consoling her after the little reveal. The chat was buzzing with teasing comments, but it was clear Lando wasn’t too worried—he’d be back soon, and the situation was already too funny to be mad about.

"post sex stream is insaaane" "man was glowing, no wonder" "PR team fighting for their life after this" "Landos phone bout to blow up" "meeting being set up as we speak"

Lando returned, a smirk still tugging at his lips as he casually sat back down, as if nothing had happened. “Right, Max, what are we playing tonight?”

Max raised an eyebrow, eyeing his friend with a grin. “Look at him, so smug. Had a great night, didn’t you?”

Lando let out a laugh, shrugging nonchalantly. “Told you, mate, we went and had dinner.” He paused for a second, then winked at the camera, his smirk widening. “Just had to head home early to have some dessert.”

[justcat-judging]

₊ ⊹ 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞 𝐎𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞! ⊹ ₊

˚ʚY/N told them her ideal type which was the complete opposite of them. ɞ˚

˚ʚKaiser Micheal x Reader, Ness Alexis x Reader(seperate)ɞ˚

˚ʚpt.5, pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4ɞ˚

---

₊ ⊹ 𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥 ⊹ ₊

You and Kaiser are hanging out after practice, his usual self-absorbed chatter filling the air while you scroll through your phone.

“So, what’s your type?” he asks, that smug grin creeping across his face.

You glance up, pretending to think. “Hmm… I like guys who are quiet, humble, and down-to-earth. Maybe a little shy. Definitely not someone who’s always showing off.”

Kaiser freezes. His smirk falters for just a moment before he leans in, eyes narrowing. “You’re really gonna sit here and tell me that’s your type?”

You nod, keeping a straight face. “Yeah, I think it’s cute. Totally my type.”

Kaiser lets out a low, incredulous chuckle. “That’s funny. You’ve been hanging out with me for weeks now, and I’m anything but humble. You’re full of shit.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What can I say? I like a challenge.”

He laughs, loud and confident. “A challenge? Babe, you don’t have to look any further. I’m exactly what you want. I’m the best, and you know it.”

You roll your eyes, trying to keep the grin from spreading. “Sure, whatever you say, Kaiser.”

His smile widens, fully aware of what he’s doing. “Admit it. You’re hooked on me. I’m exactly your type—you just don’t want to say it yet. But I’m already in your head.”

You snicker, finally giving in. “Fine. You’re right. Michael Kaiser is my type.”

He leans back, arms crossed, looking utterly victorious. “I knew it. You don’t need to hide it. No one can resist me.”

₊ ⊹ 𝐍𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬 ⊹ ₊

You and Ness are sitting on the benches after practice, him leaning a little too close as usual. His eyes are practically glued to you, that dreamy smile never wavering.

“So… what’s your type?” he asks, tilting his head like a puppy waiting for praise.

You pretend to think, tapping your chin. “Hmm… I guess I like guys who are really serious, kind of intimidating. The quiet, brooding type who doesn’t let anyone get too close.”

For a moment, Ness just stares at you, blinking. Then, to your surprise, his cheeks turn red, and a tiny, breathy laugh escapes him.

“Oh,” he mutters, almost giddy. “So… someone who would completely ignore you? Push you away? Maybe even be a little mean?”

You narrow your eyes. “Uh… yeah?”

His smile widens. “That sounds kinda nice.”

You blink. “What.”

Ness sighs, pressing a hand to his chest dramatically. “Imagine… the person you love looking down on you, refusing to acknowledge you, barely giving you the time of day… ahh, my heart aches just thinking about it.”

You gape at him. “Ness. That’s not—”

He suddenly grabs your hand, squeezing it tight. “But I love a challenge! If that’s what you want, I’ll just have to make you fall for me harder!”

You groan, finally laughing. “Ness, I was messing with you! That’s not my type at all!”

He blinks. “Oh?” Then, without missing a beat, he leans in closer, voice dropping. “So… does that mean you do like me?”

You roll your eyes. “Maybe I’d like you more if you weren’t so weird.”

Ness only grins, unbothered. “Ohh, so you do like me a little! That’s enough for me!”

You sigh, shaking your head. There’s no winning against this guy.

(Guys I think this is enough to feed you all.. I think I shall end this already)

[djarindroid]

hi! I don’t know if you’re comfortable writing this (I didn’t see you say anything about it in your rules), but could I request a pregnant!reader x Thanos? Kinda like Jun-hee and Myung-Gi. I totally understand if this makes you uncomfortable, and feel free to decline if so! Thank you! <3

tysm for this request! 💕 Loved writing this, I hope you enjoy it!

Stay Behind Me

Pairing: Thanos (Choi Su-Bong) x Pregnant!Reader

Summary: After walking out on Thanos, you never expected to see him again. But when he spots you in the games how will he react to the secret you’ve been hiding?

Warnings: Pregnancy. Usual Squid Game stuff - death, shooting.

Word Count: 1,162

The argument had been building for weeks, small drops of annoyance that had finally bubbled over.

‘You lost everything?!’ You shouted, voice raw. ‘What made you think you could just take my money and put it all into that stupid crypto thing!?’

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing like a caged animal. ‘FUCK, you think I wanted to lose it?! I did it for us!’ He pointed at you as he yelled back. 

‘Well good job, you lost all of our money and now we have nothing,’ your chest heaved. ‘How are we gonna pay the bills?’ Your nostrils flared as you watched him reach for his necklace, taking out one of his pills. ‘Oh, this is fucking great! I can’t believe you're just gonna get high rather than talking this out.’

He scoffed, ‘what do you want me to say? That I ruined everything? You already know that!’

‘I want you to take responsibility, at least say sorry!’ You threw your hands in the air in frustration. ‘Don’t numb yourself with that shit. Talk to me. Please.’

His jaw clenched, for a moment he looked away, avoiding your eyes. ‘You just don’t get it,’ he muttered before popping the pill in his mouth.

Your stomach twisted, ‘no, I get it. I understand perfectly.’ You could feel your heart breaking as you watched the man you loved turn into a stranger before you. ‘I can’t do this anymore.’

Silence stretched between you both, for a moment you thought he might reach out for you but in the blink of an eye his expression hardened. ‘Fine. Get out then.’

Tears began to slip from your eyes, this was it, it was over just like that. You didn’t look back, you couldn’t. Not as you grabbed your bag, not as the door slammed shut behind you and not when, days later, you realised you were pregnant with his child.

Months later you found yourself in a numbered green tracksuit. After you’d left Thanos, life had been hard. You’d struggled to make ends meet, until you’d met a suited man on the subway who offered you an opportunity to make enough money to solve all your problems.

You were currently stood in a giant arena, listening to the first game being announced. Red light green light, sounds simple enough. A shout from the front of the crowd made you flinch. A player, number 456, had run to the front and was shouting about how the game was dangerous, that if you lost you’d be killed. He had to be crazy right? 

Murmurs rippled around you, some people shouting out that he was just trying to scare them. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself despite the tremor in your hands. Your attention turned to the large mechanical doll at the other end of the arena as it whirred around, facing its back to you. 

‘GREEN LIGHT.’

You began walking forward, going with the crowd. 

‘RED LIGHT.’ 

Everyone froze as the giant doll turned back to you with a soft whirring noise. It seemed that everyone was doing well as the first few rounds went by without incident.

Then, a scream split through the air. Your eyes flickered across the crowd to see a girl swatting at something near her face. You held your breath, waiting. Maybe player 456 was just paranoid..

Your thoughts were interrupted as a crack pierced through the air and the girl hit the ground.

Screams erupted as people realised what happened. Panic ensued and more gunshots rang out. You clenched your eyes shut and focused on staying still. The life growing inside of you had to be your main priority, nothing else mattered.

‘GREEN LIGHT!’ 

You couldn’t move, locked into place by terror. You weren’t alone, everyone around you was frozen with fear. A prickling sensation crept up your spine, followed by the uneasy feeling you were being watched. Shakily, you took the opportunity to turn your head.

Thanos.

All the air left your lungs. He was here. His eyes widened as yours met his. 

‘RED LIGHT!’

You watched as his gaze lowered to your belly. Taking in the undeniable swell that definitely hadn’t been there when you last saw him. 

It was his child, he had no doubt.

You hadn’t made any attempt to reach out to him, you don’t know why. You’d made excuses, telling yourself he wouldn’t be interested, that he’d have turned you away at the door. But now, with him looking at you all of those excuses felt weak. It could just be your emotional state, or the situation you found yourself in but you wanted nothing more than to close the distance between you.

It seemed that he had the same thought because the second the doll turned away again, he moved. Not forwards to the finish line, but towards you. He hurried, stepping over bodies, until he stood in front of you, blocking you from view. He didn’t hesitate before placing a shaky hand on your belly. His touch was soft, gentle - everything that you’d missed.

There was so much you wanted to say but before you could the doll whirled back around and you froze. You stared into his eyes, desperate to read his expression. He looked determined. The moment green light was called again he grabbed your hand, ‘stay behind me.’ 

You didn’t argue. As the game continued he guided you carefully, always making sure to shield you with his broad frame. Other gunshots rang out but his grip was unyielding, never letting you go. Despite everything, being close to him again felt right. A part of you had been aching for it, even if you never wanted to admit it.

As the finish line drew nearer you felt the weight of everything pressing down on you. The stress of the game, disbelief that Thanos was here, guilt that you hadn’t told him, fear for your unborn baby - it was almost overwhelming. Tears welled at the corner of your eyes but you forced yourself to keep moving.

Finally you crossed the line, a shuddering breath escaping your lips as relief washed over you. Thanos turned to you, his dark eyes searched yours but before you could say anything he pulled you into him. You melted into his warmth, his arms familiar and steady - home. 

‘Stay with me,’ he spoke quietly as he held you. ‘I won’t let anything happen to you,’ he pulled away slightly and glanced down at your bump. ‘I won’t let anything happen to either of you.’

Your tears brimmed over as you replied, ‘Thanos I-I’m sorry I didn’t tell–’

‘No need,’ he interrupted gently. ‘I fucked up, I get it now,’ he cupped your cheeks and wiped away the tears. His voice dropped to a low whisper. ‘I’m so sorry. I’m not gonna let you go again.’

For the first time since walking out on him, despite the horror surrounding you, you felt hope.

[dark-night-hero]

"Hey isn't that-?" "Shhh!" "What? What! Isn't that Mich-!" "You think I don't know? Just keep your voice down if you don't want to get kicked out." "W-what?" "The owner of the Cafe." The girl utter as her eyes trail on the figure in a kitcken apron now emerging out of the kitchen with a tray of freshly baked dessert in it, carefully putting it on the display stand. "And Michael Kaiser" The girl now looking at Michael Kaiser who finally looked up from his phone and is now looking at the owner with intense yet gentle gaze. "Were lovers." "No shit."

"Sorry, did you wait too long?" You asked as you went out of Cafe back door, now dressed in a casual attire as you finally manage to close the Cafe after a long day of work and baking. You did not hear your lover reply causing you to look up and there he was looking at you. "Let's go." He spoke nonchalantly but did not forgot to reach out a hand for you to take in which you did not dare not take. Wrapping one hand into his arm, with the other reaching out for his hand as you cuddle close to him. "Are you cold?" "No." He replied softly.

Imagine walking in the midst of the buzzing city of Berlin, the two of you walk hand in hand. Already on your way at home to get some rest when the two of you happened to come across an old alley. "This bring back memories." You chuckle, eyes glancing over the alley. "Hey remember when we were children, no one was really with me at home so I got into baking. Then I happened to bring some with me in my room and forgot it was pipping hot I have no choice but to put it on the window and went back into the kitchen and by the time I come back for it, it was missing."

Imagine the way Kaiser hummed, his blue eyes glancing over the alley. "So? What happened to it?" "To that tart?" You pause like you thought for a moment before smilling sheepishly. "I don't know, I thought it was just a rat. Turns out the theft was a very cute boy." You chuckle. "To be honest at first I was mad but then I have come into conclusion that maybe my tart was just that good he couldn't help but to stole it." "Quite a narcissistic claim." Kaiser spoke with a small smile that was hidden by the shadow of the night, keeping you close to him.

"Oh! I'm sure he loved it. I always left a piece by my window whenever I make an extra piece and its always gone by the sec I look away." He just humm in return. "I always try to get a glimpse of him but its annoying how I never got to see him until I got sick one day." You smile at the memory and cuddle more into him, heck if only you could stuff your self into his arms you would. "Are you cold?" He asked. "No, I just want to be close to you." You smile at him. "You know, I really thought I was gonna die back then. I have no one around me and I was getting delirious because of the fever." Then you pause, earning a look from him and to stand on your toes for a kiss. "Thank you."

"Well my baker is going through something, I don't wanna loose them over a goddamn fever." "But I heard later on you got in trouble with the nearby pharmacy." "Is that why you started handing over a bigger portion of the pastry?" "..." "Is that also the reason why you had given me that letter?" "Idunnowhatyouaretalkingabout." He just humm in return, a smirk tugging his lips as the two of you finally reach the building where his penthouse was, something that was once within out of reach.

Imagine in the midst of the peaceful dinner, "if I had known you were coming home early I would have gone grocery shopping. Do you know how shocked I was to see you sitting in there earlier? I thought I was hallucinating." "Why would you even hallucinate? Did you started missing me so bad you started to make up an imaginary version of me? For someone who told me they wouldn't miss me even if I was gone for a whole year, you're quite the clown." "The real clown is you in that neo ego-" You were cut off with a spoonful of meal as he glare at you causing you to burst into laughter. "Oh my goodness Michael, you're still not over it?"

Imagine it was late at night but there you are, baking for some dessert which is now laidnto rest in the oven as you sat by the kitchen counter, legs dangling as you humm into a familiar tone. "Is it still not done?" "It'll be done 5 minutes." You did not turn around, not when you can hear his footsteps approaching you. "Miss me already?" You smile as you pull him in embrace, wrapping your legs around his waist. "Hah- you wish." "What a shame, I was baking your favourite along with tarts. I guess I'll just have to give-" You were cut of with a kiss. "You wouldn't dare." "Try me, Michael."

"Hey Michael, do you still have the letter I give you?" "..." "Do you still have it?" "No." "You hesitated." "No." "You still have it." "No." "Michaellll." "Let's go to sleep." "But-" "Good night Schatz." "..." "Goodnight Michael. Ich liebe dich." "Ich liebe dich auch, süße träume, mein Schatz."

Dear stranger,

Let's fill these days with the kind of joy and desserts we'll remember forever. Let's make this a great childhood memory, one we'll cherish for years to come.

I'll make more desserts in the future so feel free to drop by anytime. Thank for the last time. Also, can you tell me your name next time?

From your friendly baker neighbour.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

: You see, I'm trying to learn german.

: Also, this imagine is dedicated to @yumiko0987 , thank you for the prompt ideas and I'm really sorry this one took so long 🙏

[suzukiblu]

welp I remain INCREDIBLY weak to positive reinforcement, haha, so day two of “Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it” behind the cut. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Tim takes the obvious opportunity that Bernard chattering and Kon being a little bit dumbstruck gives him–because like, of fucking course he does, he’s a Bat–and offers Kon the caramel-dipped waffle quarter again, and Kon, like . . . okay, well fucking obviously he’s gonna eat it, Bernard made the damn caramel from scratch and Tim is offering it to him. Like, there is not a world in which he does not eat that. 

He takes a bite, mostly distracted by what Bernard’s going on about with whipped cream and hand mixers and whatever and idly having some related kinky thoughts because, like, in his defense, whipped cream, and then forgets completely about what Bernard’s going on about with . . . whatever Bernard’s going on about. 

“Oh my god what did you put in this,” Kon blurts, half-covering his mouth with a hand before he accidentally spits out any waffle crumbs and staring at Bernard for a moment. Like, the waffle is warm and basically the perfect mix between outside crunch and inside fluff, but also it tastes like–what the fuck is in this, seriously, is there sex pollen in this or something? 

“Oh, it’s actually basically my banana bread recipe, so . . . banana? Like a significant amount of banana, and then some sour cream, and a little cinnamon, brown sugar, and vanilla,” Bernard ticks off, gesturing with a waffle chunk of his own before spooning some whipped cream onto it, because Bernard apparently just made . . . everything on this breakfast tray from scratch, okay. Like . . . yeah. Okay then. “And also there’s some chocolate chips and chopped pecans in there, because like, literally what is not better with chocolate, seriously. Admittedly I don’t actually know how good it is with peaches, haven’t tried that one before, but I figure at least the caramel should be good.” 

Kon stares blankly at the dude and resists the instinctive marriage proposal currently warring with his natural “kept boy” instincts, then takes another bite of waffle when Tim offers it. It keeps tasting, like, fucking delicious, and also now he can break down “fucking delicious” in a little bit more detail than, like . . . just “fucking delicious”, basically. 

. . . will Ma kill him if he asks another cook for their waffle recipe? Is that a thing he might have to worry about? 

. . . . . . could be worth it, honestly. And she might let him live if he shares. 

“Do you, like, cook a lot, or . . . ?” he asks, half-trailing off when Tim feeds him more fucking deliciousness, which is in his defense pretty distracting. Like–Jesus, how did Bernard get an alleged banana bread recipe to make waffles this fluffy? Like, what fucking witchcraft was involved in that one? 

“Constantly and all the time and nowhere near as much as I wanna, so honestly the excuse to make an extra sauce was kinda nice, not gonna lie, it’s very relaxing,” Bernard replies frankly, stacking up some banana slices on his waffle chunk and then making himself a little waffle sandwich to stuff into his mouth effectively whole. The little waffle sandwich is weirdly adorable. Like, to the degree Kon would probably find it adorable even if he weren’t high on pink kryptonite right now, but like, maybe that’s the banana bread waffles’ fault. “Well, actually caramel is low-key the devil because you cannot ever take your eyes off it ever without it burning to shit and ruining your godsdamn pot, but it’s not like I didn’t have time to baby it so it’s whatever. Why, do you cook?” 

“Um . . . naw, just I help, um . . . well, there’s, like–I help bake, a little?” Kon replies hesitantly. Which, like, is mostly just him fetching shit and kneading stuff for Ma so her arthritis doesn’t act up as a dumb little excuse to, like, hang around the kitchen and living room area when she and Pa are talking, sometimes, but . . . technically it counts, he guesses? Like, technically? 

Bernard perks up, like–instantly, and to a really surprising amount, which is a little weird, and Kon isn’t sure what that’s about. 

“Oh, so the most evil culinary art then, wow,” Bernard says, sounding impressed. Which is definitely not what he is actually is, unless Kon has somehow given him a very incorrect impression of his baking skills, but still feels a little flustering to hear in relation to, like, something besides being good in bed. Like, just given the nature of this particular long weekend and all. 

“Uh–what?” Kon asks, trying to figure out what Bernard’s actually talking about here, and Bernard starts making himself another little banana/whipped cream waffle sandwich with an easy little shrug. 

“You know, like how the first rule of cooking is have fun and be yourself and the first rule of baking is stay calm because the dough can smell fear, is what I mean,” he replies reasonably. 

“I mean it’s not that hard, honestly, I can kinda like, just feel when it’s baked enough without having to check, so . . .” Kon shrugs himself, feeling a little awkward about it. Like–it’s kinda cheaty, honestly. “Or like, proofed or whatever.” 

“I hate you, come work at the restaurant I’m gonna open when I’m thirty-two, you can make all our bread in-house,” Bernard says very feelingly, and Kon forgets the awkward feeling to start snickering, because this dude is ridiculous, and still funny as fuck on top of that. 

“I literally just help out, man,” he says. “I am at best the actual baker’s errand boy.” 

“You just told me you can feel when the bread’s risen enough, you bastard, I am gonna press-gang you into this restaurant if I have to,” Bernard retorts huffily, then pauses, looks speculative, and asks: “Does that work on souffle, actually?” 

“I mean, I guess it would?” Kon replies with a frown, tilting his head a little. “Never tried, but–” 

“Hey Tim, I’m press-ganging your boy onto the line, good news, you won’t have to deal with me ranting about how much I hate my pastry chef every morning over coffee when we’re thirty-two,” Bernard informs Tim casually, and Tim’s mouth quirks in amusement and Kon just laughs helplessly again. 

“Oh my god, Bernard, I am the last person you wanna get to make pastry, much less restaurant pastry,” he says, still laughing. 

“I don’t know, your presentation skills would be pretty good, I’d think,” Tim says reasonably, which totally derails Kon’s cracking up. “You’re pretty artistic when you want to be. And definitely creative, and good with your hands on top of that.” 

Kon feels briefly startled–like, startled enough to not even make a sex joke about the “good with your hands” comment–because he like . . . basically never does anything that’d really count as “artistic”, as far as he’s concerned, and he’s really only “creative” in terms of coming up with creative new ways to curbstomp bad guys or whatever, not . . . 

He bites the rest of the waffle quarter out of Tim’s hand, mostly to give himself a second to process all the weird things he’s feeling about Tim saying something like that, and then has some more weird feelings when Tim swipes the pad of his thumb across the corner of his mouth to get up a smudge of caramel and then taps it lightly against Kon’s mouth to like . . . invite or offer, maybe, Kon’s not sure which. 

Though like, obviously he licks it clean either way. 

“Ohhhhh, hey, so how delicate does the TTK get?” Bernard asks, his eyes gleaming. 

“Uh–I mean, borderline atomic-level, depending?” Kon replies, a little bewildered still. “But like, that’s kinda an adrenaline-fueled apocalyptic sitch kinda thing, so mostly just . . . I dunno, tweezers? Mini-screwdriver? Somewhere in there?” 

“Okay, so when every single fine dining establishment in Gotham tries to poach you from me, I need you to remember how much you liked my dick when you were gay and pay that favor back by not accepting their disgusting amounts of money and prestige,” Bernard says, and Kon can’t help laughing again, or feeling, like–kind of warm, again. Like, kind of in the horny way, but also kinda . . . not, maybe. 

Seriously, it’s so weird how much hanging out with Bernard feels like getting a crush on a girl he’s just met. Like–very, very much so. Increasingly so, at this point. 

“I dunno, man, unless your fine dining establishment has a pink K chandelier . . .” he counters teasingly, and Bernard looks straight-up delighted by that idea. 

“Ooo, I bet that lighting would be sick, very romantic ambiance for the customer base,” he says with a grin. “What do you think, I could do my supervillain career in Metropolis and then retire to Gotham with all my ill-gotten gains and invest in a chandelier or twelve. You totally wanna get fucked after-hours on my prep counter under flattering rosy lighting, right?” 

“Come on, man, I look good in any lighting,” Kon scoffs, making a show of preening. “Or on any counter, as a matter of fact.” 

“Valid,” Bernard agrees with a sage nod, and Kon feels an irrational level of heat in his face but grins at him again anyway. Like–whatever, it’s the kryptonite; doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy the ride. 

“Yeah, I’m sure the health department would love that, you two,” Tim says wryly, the corner of his mouth ticking up in amusement. 

“Oh my god, Tim, like we wouldn’t clean up after,” Bernard huffs, making a show of rolling his eyes. “Like I don’t know basic food safety standards. But fiiiiine, I’ll put in a special counter just for fucking your boy on when I’m doing the initial remodel, would that make you feel better?” 

“You designing your future professional kitchen with a specific place reserved to have sex with my best friend in it?” Tim asks, tilting his head slightly with a briefly speculative expression. 

“Yes, obviously,” Bernard says. 

“If you made sure the security cameras’d have a good view, I guess,” Tim allows. 

“Why would I need to, look at him, the cameras will be magnetically attracted to him,” Bernard scoffs, and Kon feels sort of–flustered, maybe, and flushed, and kinda–flattered, almost? Just . . . something about that particular sex fantasy is . . . 

Like, it’s just–it's still just a jokey fantasy, yeah, but it's one that sounds like, like . . . like an actual plan would, almost. Like, obviously still just a joke, but . . . he doesn’t know, just a more flattering joke, somehow. Kinda. Also, if he’s really thinking about it . . . well, obviously there’s sex in it, but it’s really less a sex fantasy than it is just, like . . . 

Well. Just . . . a fantasy, he guesses. Like . . . like they’ll all just still know each other in their thirties and know each other well enough to wanna hang out that much and . . . 

Just–yeah. So it’s a little more flattering, kinda. Like, as a fantasy and all. 

It is also making it real fuckin’ hard to concentrate on breakfast, under the circumstances. 

Tim offers him another slice of peach, and Kon bites his lip and glances up at his face again. 

“Rob, man, yours is gonna get cold,” he points out. 

“Really not worried about it,” Tim says, which is sort of hard to argue with, but like . . . 

“But–” Kon starts reflexively, and Tim taps the peach slice against his lower lip. 

“Eat your breakfast like a good boy, and I'll give you something good while I eat mine,” he says, and Kon’s brain fritzes out completely and his gut goes absolutely molten. “Open up.” 

Kon doesn’t even take a moment to actually say anything or even nod, just immediately opens his mouth. 

Tim smiles down at him soft enough to really fry his brain and sets the peach slice on his tongue. There’s some caramel sauce on it, and Kon flashes back to Tim doing the same thing to him with the candy with his own damn come on it and kind of, like, spontaneously combusts or explodes into a supernova or just melts down into caramel himself. 

Tim taps his mouth shut with two fingers under his jaw, and Kon just about fucking swoons over it. 

So–yeah, he is definitely not gonna be arguing about the temperature of anybody’s breakfast right now.

[jazzy96scorpio]

The Weight of Longing

Description: Girl [You] gets majorly hooked on her Step dad Joel..Things get super awkward when he catches her...humping a pillow. Forbidden feelings, power plays, and a whole lot of messed-up tension follow.

Pairing: You / Step dad! Joel Miller

Warnings ⚠️: Adult Content, Minors do not interact, explicit sexual content, age gap (Sorry not sorry, unspecified), mean! Joel, dominance/submission, infidelity, oral sex (fem. rec), unprotected sex, first time sex (virgin!), SMUT.

Note: If you're easily shocked, maybe grab a pillow to hide behind (or, you know, use for other purposes). Just remember, this is all fiction 😉 Well, don't say I didn't warn you!

P.S. This story contains a significant age gap and some really filthy stuff. If that's not your thing feel free to skip this one. No judgment here!Now, go forth and get your fictional freak on!

Fic inspired by video of @daddyyss

The screen door slams behind you, the familiar whine of its spring echoing through the yard. Joel's out back, his broad shoulders hunched as he works, the shovel biting into the earth.

'Hey,' you say, your voice a little louder than intended. 'What are you doing?'

He straightens, wiping a sheen of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. His eyes, a shade of grey that always seem to hold a storm, flicker over you. 'Your mom wanted some flowers planted. She's at your grandma's. She'll be back tonight.'

'Oh.' You knew Grandma hadn't been feeling well. 'Is she okay?'

'She'll be fine.' His tone was clipped, dismissive. 'Where have you been?'

'The lake,' you replied, 'with some friends.'

'I hope you weren't fucking around and drinking,' he said, his voice hard. 'You know I don't approve of that shit. And your mom's gonna be pissed.'

'I didn't do anything bad,' you mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

'Get me a beer,' he ordered, turning back to his digging. 'And go study or something.'

You bring him the beer, the cold bottle sweating in your hand. He takes it with a grunt, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. 'I'll order a pizza,' he says, his voice rough. 'For dinner.'

'Okay,' you manage, and retreat to your room, the image of his broad shoulders and the way his worn shirt stretched across his back burned into your mind.

You remembered the first time you saw him. Your mom had brought him home, a surprise, a man she'd been seeing. He was older, yes, but undeniably handsome. His huge hands, the way his worn t-shirt stretched across his broad chest, the rough, almost dangerous look in his brown eyes, the salt-and-pepper curls that framed his face – it was all so different from the boys you knew. A thrill, forbidden and exciting, had shot through you.

Day by day, you found yourself drawn to him. The way he moved, the sound of his voice, even his gruff criticisms – it all fueled a growing obsession. You wanted him, a raw, desperate need unlike anything you'd ever felt for any boy you'd kissed or dated.

Inside, you try to distract yourself, scrolling through your phone, but his presence fills the room, a phantom sensation. You can't shake the feeling of his eyes on you, the way his voice rumbled when he spoke. A wave of heat washes over you, a restless energy that settles low in your belly. You find yourself thinking about him, about the way he moves, the strength in his arms.

The feeling intensifies, a raw, undeniable desire. You grab a pillow, burying it between your legs and begin to move, the friction a poor substitute for what you crave. Your breath hitches, your body arching, lost in a haze of imagined touches. You imagine his hands on you, his lips on your skin, his dick inside you..

Suddenly, the air shifts. A shadow falls across you. You freeze, your heart slamming against your ribs. You hadn't heard the knock. You hadn't heard the door open. Joel stands in the doorway, his expression a mask of anger.

Panic floods you. You scramble to lie down, pulling the blanket up to your chin, your face burning with shame and fear.

He asked, his voice low and dangerous, 'What the hell are you doing?'

'Nothing,' you stammer, your voice thick with tears.

His expression hardens. 'Don't lie to me. I saw what you were doing.' The words hang in the air, heavy with accusation.

A wave of shame washes over you, so intense it feels like a physical blow. Tears stream down your face, hot and stinging. You can't meet his eyes.

'I caught you again, you little slut,' he drawls. The words cut deep, a reminder of a previous moment he caught you.

Just like in the bathroom, a few weeks back, you think, the memory flashing through your mind: behind the door, the desperate, hurried touches, the sudden creak of the handle turning, his silhouette filling the doorway, his eyes cold and unforgiving. He had watched you then, too.

He steps closer, his presence filling the room, suffocating you. 'Why are you doing that, huh? Imagining some of your fuckboys?'"

You told him, your voice trembling, 'No, Joel. I'm not… I wasn't…' You couldn't bring yourself to say it, to admit the truth that burned in your chest. The thought of him, the forbidden desire, was a shameful secret you couldn't bear to reveal.

His expression darkened. 'Are you fucking around with some boys, huh?' he demanded, his voice rising.

You remained silent, tears streaming down your face.

'I'm gonna punish you for that behavior,' he said, his voice hard. He stepped closer to the bed, his shadow looming over you. With a swift movement, he yanked the blanket away, leaving you exposed. 'You need a lesson, lady. A lesson on how to behave in my house.'"

He told you to get up, his voice leaving no room for argument. He gripped your arm, his hands surprisingly strong, and pulled you onto his lap.

You were surprised, a flicker of fear mixing with a strange, undeniable thrill. His touch, though rough, sent a shiver down your spine.

He slapped your ass, the sharp sting echoing in the quiet room. 'I told you not to lie to me,' he growled.

'I'm sorry, Joel,' you whispered, your voice thick with tears.

'Tell me the truth,' he demanded, his eyes boring into yours. 'Who were you imagining, little slut? You were so horny you were humping a pillow, huh?'

The words hung in the air, raw and humiliating. You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. Then, in a rush, the truth spilled out. 'You, Joel…I want you…'

A low growl rumbled in his chest, followed by a harsh, almost triumphant laugh.

He says, a smirk playing on his lips, 'I know it, sweetheart. I've noticed the way you look at me.' He slaps your ass again, harder this time, the sting bringing tears to your eyes.

'You want Daddy's cock, don't you?' he asks, his voice low and suggestive.

You can only nod and hum in response, your body trembling with a mixture of fear and desire.

'Turn around,' he commands. As you turn, his right hand drifts down, settling on the damp fabric of your panties.

He gently rubs against your soaked pussy, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through your body. 'So wet for me, aren't you?' he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. 'Just thinking about me makes you leak like this.'

A moan escapes your lips, a sound you can't suppress. You arch your back, pressing yourself against his hand, craving more of his touch.

'Mmm, that's it,' he whispers, his fingers teasing the sensitive flesh beneath the wet material. 'You're a dirty little thing, aren't you? So eager for Daddy's attention.'"

You whisper, your voice thick with desire, 'Yes, Daddy. I need you so bad… please…'

He kneels before you, a predatory smile playing on his lips. With a slow, deliberate movement, he removes your soaked panties, his eyes never leaving yours. 'Such a needy little thing,' he murmurs, his voice laced with amusement. 'Begging for it.'

He lowers his head, his breath hot against your swollen clit. His tongue darts out, licking the sensitive flesh, then swirling around your entrance. A moan escapes your lips, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure. He begins to suck harder, his mouth a warm, wet suction, pulling and teasing. 'That's it,' he growls against your core.

'Come for your Daddy,' he growls against your core. 'I wanna taste it.' He grips your breast, his thumb circling your nipple, as he continues to lick your clit, slowly slipping a finger inside you.

You’re overwhelmed, a wave of sensation unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. No one has ever touched you like this.

He continues to stroke you with his fingers, then slips another one inside, stretching you, teasing you. “So tight,” he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. “So fucking wet.”

He looks up at you, his eyes dark and intense. Tears stream down your face, a mix of pleasure and raw emotion. You moan, gripping the sheets, your body arching beneath him. He swirls his tongue around your clit, and you shatter, your pussy walls clenching around his fingers, soaking him in your juices.

He pulls his fingers out, licking them clean. 'Mmm,so sweet babygirl.' he says, his eyes gleaming. 'You're such a good girl for your Daddy.'

He stands up, the sound of his belt buckle echoing in the room.

He unzipped his pants, and with a swift movement, pulled off his shirt. His chest and shoulders were broad and powerful, the muscles defined in the dim light. He exuded a raw strength that made you catch your breath.

He pulls down his pants and boxers, his erection springing free. He looks at you, his eyes dark and hungry, as he strokes his huge cock with his hand.

The thick shaft is already rock-hard, the tip glistening with pre-cum. 'You want this, little slut, huh?' he growls. 'Let me hear it! Beg for it, you little whore!'

He leans closer, spreading your legs wider, and positions himself between them. He teases your entrance, the head of his cock brushing against your slick lips. 'Tell me what you want,' he commands.

'I want you, Daddy,' you whisper, your voice thick with desire. 'Only you, please.'

'Has anyone fucked you before?' he asks, his voice laced with suspicion.

'No, Daddy,' you breathe. 'I've been a good girl.'

A predatory smile spreads across his face. 'You're gonna be mine, baby girl,' he murmurs. He leans down and kisses you roughly, the force of the kiss sending a jolt of electricity through your body. He trails kisses down your neck, sucking on your breasts, teasing your nipples until they’re hard and aching.

He positions himself at your entrance, guiding his cock with his right hand. He slowly pushes the tip inside, the burning pleasure bringing tears to your eyes. 'I know, baby girl,' he whispers, his voice surprisingly gentle. 'Be good for Daddy.' He pulls back slightly. 'Let me in, sweetie. Daddy wants you so bad. Daddy's gonna make you feel so good.'

You nod, your body trembling. He cups your face in his hand and kisses you deeply, his tongue tangling with yours. Then, with a swift, hard thrust, he pushes himself inside, stretching you, filling you completely. He’s so big, it hurts, a sharp, burning pain that makes you gasp. You shake a little, tears streaming down your face.

'I need to move,' he growls, his voice thick with lust. 'Daddy wants to fuck this tight pussy.' He glances down at the junction of your bodies, his eyes gleaming at the sight of the blood and your juices coating his cock. “So fucking tight,” he murmurs. “So fucking good.”

He begins to move, slowly at first, then with increasing speed and force. “You like that, don’t you, baby girl?” he pants. “You like Daddy fucking you?” He grips your hips, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper. “Tell me you like it!” he commands. “Tell me you’re Daddy’s little whore!"

You told him, your voice a broken whisper, 'Yes, Daddy… I love it… I'm yours… Fuck…'

He began to thrust faster, his eyes fixed on your breasts, watching them bounce with each powerful stroke.

He wiped the tears from your face, he leaned down and kissed you, his lips bruising and demanding. 'You take me so good,' he growled. 'Such a good girl. You belong to me.'

He pulled out, the sudden emptiness making you whimper. 'Turn around,' he commanded. You obeyed, and he slapped your ass cheeks, the sting sending a jolt of heat through your body.

'Lift your ass for me, sweetheart' he said, his voice thick with lust. 'Daddy's gonna fuck you from behind. You're mine to use however I want.'

He entered you again, this time rougher, deeper. He grabbed your butt cheeks, squeezing them hard, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

He gripped your hair, pulling your head back, and whispered in your ear, 'From now on, you're mine, little slut. You'll be punished every time you try to touch yourself, or hump that pillow, baby girl. This is my pussy now. Daddy's gonna take care of it."

“You’re gonna scream my name, aren’t you?” he whispered harshly.

You told him 'Yes, Daddy. I'm yours to command.' Your body trembling with a mix of fear and excitement. He began to fuck you harder, his thrusts powerful and relentless.

He rubbed your clit with his thumb, sending waves of pleasure through your body. He felt your pussy clenching around his cock, squeezing him tight.

You came again, your juices soaking him, mixing with the pre-cum that still clung to his shaft. “Mine,” he growled. “All mine.”

He gave a few final, powerful thrusts, then groaned as he came inside you, his hot cum filling you completely. He glanced down at the junction of your bodies, watching as your mingled fluids dripped down your legs. “You’re so fucking mine,” he whispered, his voice thick with possessiveness.

“No one else will ever touch you like this. You’re my personal fucktoy darling."

He lay down on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. He hugged you close, still buried deep inside you. “You’re my dirty little secret,” he murmured in your ear. “And Daddy’s gonna keep you safe.

"You’re never gonna forget this, are you?

You whispered a quiet "No, Daddy."

"You're branded, little slut.”

He pulled out, leaving you feeling empty and wanting more.

Then he lay beside you, his arm draped possessively across your waist. “You’re mine, baby girl,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. “I don’t want any other little boy touching you. Do you understand me?"

“Yes, Daddy,” you whispered back, your voice trembling slightly. “I’m gonna be only yours.”

He leaned down and kissed you, a slow, deep kiss “Good girl,” he murmured against your lips. “You know, you’re… you’re the only one who can make me feel this way. You’re so fucking perfect, so sweet and dirty all at once, babygirl.”

He pulled the blanket over you. “I’m gonna prepare a bath for you,” he said, his voice softening slightly.

“Thank you,” you whispered, a mix of emotions swirling within you. You lay in bed, the sensations still lingering, a strange mix of pleasure and guilt. You’d gotten what you wanted. You’d finally had him.

After he finished preparing the bath, he returned and lifted you into his arms, carrying you to the bathroom.

The doorbell rang, a sudden, jarring sound. He looked surprised. “Pizza’s already here” he muttered. “Maybe that's your mom. Come downstairs after your bath.”

You nodded, and he left.

When you finally made your way downstairs, your legs aching and unsteady, you saw your mom. You tried to act normal, to keep your composure, but your body betrayed you. You could barely walk, the soreness a constant, throbbing reminder of what had just happened.

As you saw your mom, she immediately noticed something was off. She asked, her voice laced with concern, 'Are you alright?'

Joel watched you, taking a slow sip of his beer, his expression unreadable.

'I'm fine, Mom,' you said, trying to sound casual, 'just a little tired.' You quickly changed the subject. 'How's Grandma?'

'She'll be fine,' your mom replied.

'I'm hungry,' you said, grabbing a slice of pizza. 'I'm going to take this to my room. I need to study for my class tomorrow.'

She nodded, but her expression tightened. 'You could have at least made dinner,' she said, her voice sharp. 'It's easy to just order pizza.' She was always like this, quick to criticize.

She started to complain, her voice rising, 'You're so lazy. Always going out, always locked in that room.'

Suddenly, Joel spoke up, his voice low and firm, cutting through her rant. 'Maria, that's enough. Leave her be. She's tired.' He defended you.

You saw the opportunity, going back to your room, anger simmering beneath your skin. You could hear them arguing downstairs, Joel's voice a low rumble, your mother's a sharp, insistent whine. 'She needs to learn,' your mom's voice rose, 'She is not a child anymore.' Joel responds, 'Maybe you should try being a mother instead of a warden.'"

Mom snapped, her voice sharp and laced with resentment. 'Well, you're not her dad! She's my daughter, and she's going to listen to me!'

Joel, surprisingly, managed to calm her down, his voice low and soothing. After a while, he left the living room, leaving a heavy silence in his wake.

Curled up in bed, you felt a wave of self-loathing wash over you. Useless. Worthless. It was the middle of the night, and you couldn't shake the feeling of being completely alone.

A soft knock startled you. It was Joel. He entered, holding a glass of water and a small pill. 'You need to take this, plan B.' he said, his voice gentle. 'I'll get you some birth control soon.'

He pulled you into a warm hug, his hand stroking your hair. He kissed you softly on the forehead. 'I'll take care of you,' he murmured. 'You're a good girl. Don't take your mother's words to heart.'

'She's right, though,' you whispered, your voice thick with tears.

'No, baby girl,' he said, his voice firm. 'You're great.' He paused, then added, 'I love you.' He hugged you tightly.

'I love you too,' you replied, your voice barely audible.

He leaned and kissed you knew more time, gently cupping your face with his hands "Good night babygirl, now rest..See you tomorrow."

"Good night Joel. Thank you." you whispered.

He left, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

He loves you. The words echoed in your mind, a strange mix of exhilaration and disbelief. You couldn't believe what had just happened. One moment, you were humping a pillow, lost in a fantasy, and the next, he was here, in your room, confessing his love.

A wave of conflicting emotions washed over you. You were happy, undeniably so. The physical intimacy, the possessive way he’d claimed you, the whispered promises – it was intoxicating. But beneath the surface, a tremor of fear lingered. Was this real? Was this love, or something else entirely? The power dynamic, the way he’d taken control, the harsh words mixed with tender touches… it was confusing, unsettling. You felt like you were walking a tightrope, balancing on the edge of something dangerous and thrilling. You closed your eyes, the image of his face, his eyes dark and intense, burned into your mind. You were his, he’d made that clear. And a part of you, a dark, hidden part, reveled in the thought.

Thank you for the reading 💜

Tags: @lanaispunk @probablyreadinsmut @joelmillerpascal

Please like and leave a comment.❣️

Write me if you want part two 😉

[merlucide]

DYED DAISIES

notes: this wa written over the course of two months so ignore any writing differences LMAO [requested]

pairings: Lev Haiba x F!HanhakiReader

word-count: 4k

warnings: reader dies, angst, unrequited love

The prettiest flowers still die.

Or something like that.

That saying had never felt more cruelly fitting than now. Because your love for him had bloomed, beautiful and endless, only to wilt under the weight of its own yearning.

Lev Haiba. He was everything—like fresh air on a new day, clear and comforting. There was something so radiant about him, like he carried the sun inside his chest, always burning, always glowing. He was so full of life, so eager, so unshakably bright. Every moment with him felt like a memory before it even ended, something worth keeping, something worth holding onto.

But even the most beautiful things don’t last forever.

You had just moved to Tokyo from Okinawa, a small island of little shops and quiet streets, where the sea was always within reach and the air smelled of salt. Life had been simple there, almost dreamlike in its familiarity. But dreams don’t last, and neither did your parents marriage.

The divorce was inevitable. Necessary, even. So when the dust settled, you and your mother packed up for a fresh start. Tokyo. A world away from the slow comfort of your island home, but still Japan, still familiar.

The apartment was small, tucked into a four-story building with little railing balconies. You lived on the third floor—high enough to feel safe, close enough to the ground to still hear the life below. You neighbors were mostly elderly, eager to welcome you with stories and recommendations, their warmth a surprising comfort in a city so large.

But one neighbor, in particular, caught your eye.

You were hanging your towel over the balcony railing, completely focused on not dropping it, when suddenly, a head popped up from below like some sort of startled meerkat.

“HEY! YOU’RE THE NEW NEIGHBOR RIGHT?”

You yelped, flinching back. Your towel nearly slipped from your fingers as you leaned forward to get a better look. A boy stood on the balcony below, looking up at you with wide, cat-like green eyes. His silver hair was tousled from the wind, and his grin was nothing short of electric.

“Uh—yeah?” you said hesitantly. “We moved in, like, four days ago.”

“Sweet! I’m just below you. I’m Lev, by the way. Are you going to Nekoma?”

He spoke fast, his excitement practically vibrating off him. You tilted your head, vaguely recognizing the name. “Um, I think so? That’s the one with the red, right?”

“Yep! That’s the one!” His grin widened. “Hold on, lemme come up.”

Before you could process what he meant, he disappeared from view, the sound of pounding footsteps on the stairs echoing through the air. And then—

Holy shit.

He was tall.

You blinked up at him in disbelief as he stood before you, lanky limbs clad in a black hoodie and red shorts. Was he really a high schooler? There was no way. He had to have been held back.

“I’m a first-year. What about you?” he asked, peering down at you like a curious cat.

Your brain short-circuited. “You’re a first-year? No way.”

“Yeah! Why?”

You shook your head in disbelief before finally responding. “I’m a first-year too, actually.”

Lev brightened. “Really? Hey, maybe you’ll be in some of my classes!”

“Heh, maybe.”

The conversation spiraled from there, filled with his boundless energy and your cautious amusement. And before you knew it—

“Hey, wanna walk to school together? When’s your first day?”

You blinked, taken aback by how natural the offer felt. “S-sure. I think I start this week?”

“Sweet!”

“Levochka!” A voice rang from below. “You’re gonna be late for your game!”

“Oh crap!” Lev jolted, eyes widening. “I totally forgot I have a game today—aaaaah!”

You barely had time to react before he turned to sprint down the stairs. But just as he reached the first step, he hesitated, turning back to you.

“Wait—what’s your name again?”

You laughed softly. “L/N Y/N. Just call me Y/N.”

“Got it! See you later, Y/N!”

And with that, he was gone, a whirlwind of energy and excitement, leaving only the lingering echo of his voice behind.

It had barely been a four-minute conversation, but somehow, you felt lighter. The thought of starting over in a new school, in a new city, suddenly felt a little less daunting.

Monday morning rolled around, and your mom had already picked up your new uniform. It was simple, flat colors that complemented each other nicely. You liked the tie.

The apartment was quiet when you left. Your mom was still asleep—her new job wouldn’t start until next week. You carefully locked the door behind you and made your way down the stairs, hesitating when you reached Lev’s floor.

Did he really mean it when he said he’d walk with you? Or did he just say that in passing and forget?

Just as doubt began to creep in, his door slammed open, then shut just as fast. Lev stepped out in his uniform, his height making it fit a little awkwardly, the sleeves just a little too short on his long arms. His eyes immediately landed on you, and his face lit up.

“Heeeeey, Y/N! Ya ready?”

You nod, and without another word, the two of you dribble down the stairs together.

The walk to Nekoma was anything but quiet. Lev fired off question after question—Where did you live before? What’s your favorite food? Do you like cats? Oh! Do you like volleyball?—each one tumbling out of his mouth with unrestrained curiosity. He listened earnestly to your answers, nodding along like he was committing them to memory, only to get sidetracked seconds later, launching into an excited ramble about something completely different.

Then, without missing a beat, he switched gears again.

“Oh! Right! So, school pointers!” Lev straightened up, as if preparing for an important briefing. “Now! The senpais can be super scary, and they give awfulnicknames—seriously!”Lev shuddered. “Yaku-senpai calls me ‘Stickman Godzilla’!” He flared his arms dramatically, his voice dripping with exasperation. You giggled at his theatrics, covering your mouth not to hurt his feelings.

“But! They’re all pretty cool,” he continued, grinning at your reaction. “They won’t give you any trouble!”

The morning air was crisp, the city bustling with students heading in the same direction. And with Lev beside you—talking a mile a minute, making the simplest things sound like the most exciting adventure— it was really refreshing.

Nekoma’s campus looms in front of you, larger and more modern than the one back home. The sleek glass windows reflect the midday sun, and the polished doors stand tall, welcoming in the hum of students passing through.

“Oh yeah! Let me see your schedule!” Lev says, leaning over your shoulder to scan it. His eyes light up as he spots something. “Hey! We got two classes together—3rd and 7th!” he exclaims, his voice filled with excitement.

A small smile tugs at your lips at his enthusiasm, his energy contagious. He gives you a quick, wave before darting off to class.

You were more than happy to share some classes with him, you won’t be all alone in a big new school, THANK GOD!

You watch him for a moment and your heart seems to skip a beat, and you can’t quite shake the feeling that this might be the start of something more than just an ordinary school day.

And that was the beginning of your demise.

You exhale, clutching the strap of your bag a little tighter. It’s only been just a few days since you transferred, but you’re already settling into a routine.

And that routine, involved Lev.

As he’d mentioned, he was part of Nekoma’s volleyball club. The past few days, you’d been waiting for him to finish practice so he could walk you home, since you still weren’t familiar with the area.

And it sure doesn’t take long for Lev’s friends to notice you.

Kuroo leans against the wall near the gym doors, watching as you wait outside like you have the past few days. He nudges Kenma with his elbow. “That girl’s been hanging around a lot, huh?”

Kenma glances up from his game, “Yeah.”

“Aye, Lev,” Kuroo calls out, catching the lanky boy’s attention “You got a girlfriend or what?” His tone is teasing

Lev, stretching out his arms, blinks in confusion. “Girlfriend? No? Why?”

At the mere mention of the word, Yamamoto all but barrels into the conversation, eyes wide in horror. “YOU GOT A GIRLFRIEND BEFORE I DID?!?”

Kenma doesn’t even bother looking up from his console. “We all know that’s unlikely,” he says flatly. “But even so, Lev has a better chance than you do.”

Yamamoto gapes, snapping his head toward Kenma, ready to fire back with an outraged rebuttal.

Kuroo smirks. “Then who’s that girl who keeps waiting for you after practice? The one you’re always walking around with?”

“Oh, you mean Y/N?” Lev brightens. “She’s my new neighbor! I’ve been showing her around. She’s really nice too!” His smile is wide, easy—completely oblivious to how much attention this conversation has gathered.

“SO SHE’S AVAILABLE?” Yamamoto nearly shouts, grabbing Lev’s shoulders with urgency. “I think so?” Lev tilts his head slightly.

“She’s pretty,” Kuroo comments offhandedly.

Lev shrugs, nodding. “Yeah, she is.”

You don’t hear any of it, you’re too far away and too focused on the tiny pixelated worm inching across your phone screen. The soft click of the buttons fills the silence around you as you tap away, trying to guide it toward the apple without crashing into the walls.

A shadow falls over you, and a familiar voice breaks through your concentration.

“Sorry for the wait! Ready to go?”

You glance up to see Lev grinning down at you, his usual energy still buzzing even after practice. Quickly tucking your phone away, you nod, pushing aside the strange warmth lingering in your chest.

The years passed, and your world became entwined with his.

Lev was your constant. Through high school, through late-night study sessions, through laughter that echoed off apartment walls. Your love for him had been a slow bloom, petals unfurling with every moment spent at his side. You never said it out loud, never let it slip past your lips. But it was there, woven into the fabric of your being.

Then came adulthood.

Lev became a model—of course he did. He was perfect for it. Tall, striking, a natural in front of the camera. You were the first one to encourage him to pursue it, to tell him he had what it took. And he did. He thrived.

Meanwhile, you chased your own dreams, diving headfirst into Bio Technology! You got into a great collage for it too! Your days were filled with labs and research, your nights with the same familiar routine: wake up, go to class, go out with Lev, repeat.

It was simple. Comfortable. A rhythm you could live in forever.

But one morning felt different. You woke up with a tightness in your lungs—subtle at first, but unsettling. It was unusual, almost suffocating, and scary. You took a slow sip of water from the glass beside your bed, hoping it would help as you got ready for the day.

The feeling didn’t go away. Days passed, the tightness lingering, pressing heavier with each breath. You brushed it off, blaming exhaustion, stress—maybe just the effects of your messed-up sleep schedule.

But when you stumbled into the bathroom, fingers trembling, and vomited into the toilet—

White petals.

Soft. Fragile. Coated in the slickness of your own blood.

Daisies.

Your breath stilled.

With shaking hands, you grabbed your phone, typing with feverish desperation.

‘Why did I throw up flowers?’

The answer came faster than you wanted.

‘Hanahaki Disease.’

An unrequited love. A curse born from emotions too strong to bear. The flowers bloom in the lungs of the afflicted, suffocating them slowly, petal by petal.

The only cures?

Surgery.

They would cut the flowers from your lungs, but they would take everything else with them. Every feeling, every longing glance, every heartbeat that belonged to him—gone. You would wake up whole but hollow, looking at Lev without so much as a flicker of emotion. The love you had carried for years, the love that had rooted itself into every part of you, would be nothing more than a memory erased.

Or…

Reciprocation.

Lev loving you back.

Your breath shudders as you scroll further, as if the words might shift into something kinder, something that doesn’t sound like a death sentence. But they don’t.

And there it is—the third option. The one that isn’t written, but looms over you like a shadow.

If neither cure happens… you die.

The flowers would grow, day by day, petal by petal, tightening around your lungs like vines, filling every breath until there’s no space left. Until your body becomes nothing but a garden of unspoken love, blooming too beautifully for its own survival.

A weak, shaky inhale rattles through your chest, and for the first time, you feel it—the weight of something growing inside you.

If you do nothing, it will kill you.

Your trembling hands grip the edge of the toilet, knuckles white as you struggle to steady your breath. The taste of blood lingers on your tongue, metallic and bitter, mixing with the phantom sensation of soft petals against your lips.

Your phone gripped tightly beside you on the floor. Hesitantly, your fingers hover over the contacts, your vision blurring as you scroll down.

Your eyes flickered to Lev’s name in your contacts.

Your throat tightens.

He doesn’t love you.

The thought crashes into you like a wave, violent and merciless, knocking the air from your lungs.

You’ve spent years searching—grasping—for something, anything that could mean he felt the same. A lingering glance, a touch that lasted just a second too long, a shift in hisvoice when he said your name. But there was never anything there.

Nothing.

A shaky breath escapes you, sharp and uneven. You squeeze your eyes shut, forcing back the stinging heat behind them. Your body feels too heavy, your chest unbearably tight, like the flowers are already taking root, growing vines around your ribs.

You press a hand against your sternum, as if that will somehow stop the ache, stop the petals from blooming.

You have to try.

Even if it’s hopeless. Even if it kills you. Which, if he doesn’t it will.

You bite your lip, forcing yourself to stand, ignoring the way your legs shake beneath you. You have to give it a shot.

You don’t have any other choice.

The bell above the diner door jingles softly as you step inside, the warmth of the place wrapping around you. Lev is already sitting at a booth near the window. He grins the moment he sees you, waving you over with the same easy enthusiasm that’s always made your heart squeeze.

“Hey! Took you long enough,” he teases.

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the way your chest tightens—not just from the disease, but from the way he looks at you. Like you’re only a friend. Like he doesn’t see the way your hands shake when you hold the menu, or how your breathing hitches every time he laughs.

It’s fine. It’s fine.

It’s fine.

The two of you fall into easy conversation, talking about everything and nothing at once. He tells you about his latest shoot, his voice buzzing with excitement as he mentions the new campaign he’s working on.

“—She’s half-Japanese like me! I mean, not Russian, but still, y’know? She’s really cool—and, like, really professional. I was kinda nervous at first, but she made everything feel so natural.”

You nod, forcing a small smile as he rambles. He looks genuinely happy, his excitement infectious. It’s nice. It should be enough just to see him like this.

But it’s not. Man.

So you keep searching—grasping for something, anything—a glance that lingers just a second too long, a touch that hesitates before pulling away, a shift in his voice when he says your name. A fleeting moment, an unspoken word, some tiny, fragile proof that maybe—maybe—he feels it too.

But there’s nothing. Nothing at all.

The diner’s warm glow seems to be the only comfort in the bustling evening, but even that doesn’t seem to settle you. You poke at your food, trying to force down a few bites, but your thoughts keep racing. Every now and then, Lev glances at you from across the table, his usual energetic demeanor a little more reserved today.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice light but with a note of concern. An honest expression.

You look up from your plate, blinking at him for a moment. “Yeah, of course.”

Lev raises an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing just slightly as he studies you. “Really? ’Cause you’ve been kind of… off,  you’ve barely said a word y’know?”

You laugh nervously, but it sounds more like a quiet exhale. “I’m just tired, really that’s it.”

Lev doesn’t buy it. He leans back in his chair, tapping his fingers on the edge of his glass. “Sureeee…”

He leans forward, a little more serious now, his usual teasing tone softened. “Come on, talk to me. What’s really going on?”

He really can see right through you.

“I’m serious! I’m just tired!” You exasperatedly laughed shaking your head.

Gosh, one of the things you fell in love with him for was his persistence! but not right now…!

Lev’s expression softens, and he reaches over to tap the edge of your hand lightly. “I won’t push you for answers anyyyymooooreeee.. You know you don’t have to do all of it by yourself, right? You’ve got me Y/N.”

You smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “I know, Lev. Thanks”

Lev’s eyes narrow as he processes what you said. Then, without missing a beat, he grins his usual wide grin, shooting you two big thumbs up.

For a moment,it felt like everything was okay.

Maybe it’s just that he doesn’t realize that he loves you.

Maybe.

Maybe not.

Still, some stubborn, pathetic part of you clings to hope.

It not like you have a lot of other options right now.

Weeks pass.

Your symptoms worsen.

The ache in your chest no longer fades, the petals come more frequently, and the taste of blood lingers longer than before. It’s getting harder to hide, harder to pretend that you’re fine when every breath feels heavier than the last.

You had tried and tried and tried to find a spark.

And still, no progress with Lev.

You had made plans to meet him at one of his shoots. Lev had begged you to go, which obviously you’d go regardless, he really wanted to introduce you to his new partner for this campaign.

But this time, it was different. It felt like your last chance. If something didn’t change now—if Lev didn’t feel the same way—it could be the end. You could already feel the weight of the disease creeping closer, and the thought of never hearing him say it, of never being loved in return, made everything seem so much more real.

Today you would tell him. You would confess. 

Praying that he felt the same, somehow, and somehow be cured.

It has to happen.

You walk through the glass doors and the woman behind the desks sends you a soft smile, recognizing you. Lev has done a handful of photoshoots at this location, so that means you’re somewhat a regular.

you walked up the stairs, heart beating erratically. 

And then—

You saw him.

There he was, standing in a buttoned white shirt, the top buttons undone, trailing down to his chest just enough to show a hint of skin.

Beside him stood a woman, her raven-black hair falling elegantly over her shoulder.She leaned into Lev, and he wrapped an arm around her, holding her close. She was draped in a satin gold dress that shimmwred in the light, the rich hue complementing her skin tone perfectly. The cameras clicked rapidly, capturing the intimate moments as they shifted positions.

Each shot seemed to get more…intimate, more intense.

You started to feel the tightness in your chest. It wasn’t like Lev hadn’t done photoshoots with women before—that really wasn’t it. It was the way he was holding her, how his hand rested possessively around her waist, how he looked at her with such tenderness… that was new.

The photographer called out, ‘That’s a wrap!’ and they reluctantly pulled apart. But the woman’s hands lingered on Lev’s chest, soft and warm, as if she couldn’t bear to break the connection just yet. You could feel the weight of the moment from where you stood, the air thick with something unspoken. You couldn’t hear their words, but you could see the way Lev’s smile deepened, how it stretched wider than usual, his eyes twinkling in a way that made your chest tighten.

It wasn’t just any smile—it was a smile brimming with warmth, with something deeper, something that made it clear that he was lost in whatever was happening between them. Something you had never seen from him before. Your heart slammed in your chest, a sickening wave of jealousy and fear rushing through you as you watched.

Lev’s fingers brushed back her hair, soft and lingering,the tenderness of the gesture cutting through you like a knife. The motion was almost reverent, as if he were trying to hold on to her, to pull her closer even though she was already standing right there. Your breath caught, your chest ached with the hollow feeling that gnawed at you. You couldnt look away, but you didn’t want to see it.

She pulled away with a sly smile, a quiet confidence in her every step as she walked off toward her manager, her heels clicking sharply on the floor. Lev stayed rooted to the spot, still smiling, his expression distant, lost in the euphoria of the moment. He was completely adrift in something you couldn’t reach, something that felt like it had already taken him far, far away from you.

And as you stood there alone, watching him from the corner of the room, it felt like you were watching your own heart break all over again.

The world blurred.

Your breath caught in your throat as you realized it was too much. This wasn’t something you could stand to watch anymore. With every ounce of strength, you turned and left the set, your heart heavy, your legs unsteady.

Lev, still lost in his thoughts, didn’t notice. He never knew you were there.

His eyes flicked toward the door you had just exited, a blur of color rushing away.

The park was quiet when you collapsed beneath the tree, your knees drawn tightly to your chest, hugging them as if trying to hold yourself together. The world felt heavy, unbearably so, pressing down on you with a weight you could hardly carry. Each breath felt like a struggle, and the familiar surroundings of the park—the one you and Lev had always come to when life got too overwhelming—seemed foreign now, like they no longer held the comfort they once did.

You ran here, your legs carrying you without thinking, desperate to get away. This was supposed to be your safe place, the one place where everything felt right, where you could laugh and talk with Lev, away from everything else. But now, it felt like you were suffocating in the silence, the emptiness filling the space where his presence used to be oh so comforting.

You buried your face in your knees, trying to block out the memories, the images of Lev smiling at her—the way he looked at her.

A single daisy grew beside you.

You plucked it from the earth, twirling it between your fingers.

The delicate stem bent between your fingertips as you twirled the flower absentmindedly, staring down at the small thing that felt like the last piece of life you had left.

Then, softly, you brought it to your lips.

You kissed the petals, your lips trembling as they met the soft flower. Every unsent word, every unspoken wish, every tear you never shed for him—it all poured into that one fragile kiss.

“My heart is forever yours, my Lev.”

A final whisper. A final truth. A truth you never thought would be yours to claim.

The words like a confession, but it wasn’t a relief.

It was a heavy burden.

A promise you could never fulfill, but one you were more than willing to make. You would never be able to give him the love you wanted, the love he deserved. The ache in your chest deepened, and with each breath, it was as if the world was slipping away from you, inch by inch, until there was nothing but the weight of your own heart breaking.

You couldn’t hold on anymore. You couldn’t fight it. You were tired, tired of waiting, tired of hoping, tired of loving him in silence.

The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in colors of sorrow—purple and orange as though the universe itself was mourning you. It felt like the end of everything.

It was the end of everything.

You let the flowers around you bloom, their petals soft against your skin, but their beauty felt distant. Fading. Like you.

And as the quiet swallowed you whole, you gave yourself up to it. The ache, the love, the pain—everything. You allowed yourself to be consumed, to fade away, because living without him, without that love, was something you couldn’t bear anymore.

lol I hope this made sense bc I wrote the majority of this sleepy and only proofread twice LMAO (also 2nd angst I have ever written)

Made March 1st 2025

[midnight1nk]

So, this week's episode...

[spoilers below cut]

I'M HERE I'M HERE *trips from stone pebble, face first* i'm here...

That's right, my dear fellows, your local theorist is back and freed from the basement! WA-HOO 🎉 What episode do we got today... *sees thumbnail+title* ...oh. huh.

Team...*inhales* care to tell me what. the. fuck is this? "SMG4:" IS BACK ON THE TITLE?! AND THIS DESCRIPTION?!

oh my god the Team hates me so BAD (/lh /jk) WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT?!

(the following is my live reaction:)

dude, i don't even know what to expect from this but it looks like i'm going to be incredibly annoying in this review 😅 (sorry in advance)

the way Mario goes to the front door of his home is exactly how i enter every room

Mario to Luigi: "Trying to get me back after locking you in the fridge for 5 days?" wha ...y'know what? that sounds about right

*war flashbacks to Ben's tweet*

*slowly turns to Team* what did you do? :) NOW'S NOT THE TIME FOR YOUR KNOWING SMILES, ONLY I SHOULD DO THAT. ANOTHER FNAF REF WITH THE VANNY MASK ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!

(hey nicc, buddy, how are you holding up?)

btw the Team could've gone with any mask but they went with this for 4 & 3 🤔

*points at 4* he wants that cookie SO BAD

UE UE UE THEY MEAN THE WORLD TO ME💙💜 they do be scheming

look how much they've changed 🥹 (and i will talk about them later)

AND their expressions? *dies*

*stares at Team suspiciously* wow the framing of this scene is quite interesting, huh

speak yourself, 4. you could barely handle horror games

OH I GET THE CLUE NOW @arco-doodles never could i have ever imagined a roles-reversed version of "the princess carry" 🗣️LET'S GOOOOOOO

SMG3: "You've used the same laugh in like all your videos." and ofc, you would know that. you were like his biggest fan (in the classic era), obsessed even smh /affectionate

HOLY SHIT ARE WE DOING FOUND FOOTAGE THROUGH 3'S POV/PHONE?!?! dude this is SICK

*deadpans at you through the screen* y'know...

I'm a sucker for this animation, dude

gonna bounce around the screen like the DVD logo, spooky style

well this feels familiar

and also the fact that Mario looked like that one meme with the realistic eyes (link) that Ben used as his pfp one time. what's crazy is that Ben hasn't seen this episode yet lmao

OH A BIT OF 2D PNG ANIMATION. also the eyeliner 👀

(hmm why do 4 & 3 get trapped in the weirdest places tf? /lh)

welp we found Luigi, we did it guys *cheesy thumbs-up* roll the credits

also it's giving:

i'm just going to drop this here, ok? ↓

4 lifting 3's chin :)

a TADC ref? in my SMG4 episode? it's more likely than you think

love the small details of not only Mario's post-it note of "Mario's Spaghetti, DO NOT EAT" but also his drawing of "stinky 4" just hung up on the fridge

it is still Mario....... NOT EVEN THE SPAGHETTI TRAP?

somehow 3 summoning ghosts fit with his internet graveyard/dark web role

*WHEEZE* the 2 dollar store item...

*danny phantom theme plays*

oh. uh, i'm intruding, aren't i? i should go...... ("he wants that cookie so bad" 2: electric boogaloo???)

i hired 3 & 4 to stare at you /silly /ref

love how 3 has his contacts with the regular names (Karen, Bob, etc.) meanwhile for 4, it's "StinkyMessGuy4". 4's different 💅

aw 4 🥹💙 you did a good thing in apologizing

3 NOOOOOOO

*IGBP war flashbacks*

oh, what's that? i was staring at space again? oh, no, I was trying to figure out HOW DID I MANIFEST 4'S CASTLE COLLAPSING IN AN IGBP PARALLEL OF AN EPISODE?! oh god, did the Team somehow see my WIPs of my door fanart? they're hacking into my tablet /silly

so let me get this straight: a supernatural entity with multiple eyes and red is causing chaos, starting from emerging out of the PC to eventually corrupting the castle and its ground, meanwhile, the friends believed that one of them is possessed by said entity and trying to save them in several ways. AND by the end, 3, having a character development moment, sympathizes with their "possessed" friend...

🧍 ...ok yeah I see how it is, Team. and while i was gone for the weekend? smh

eh close enough, welcome back IGBP

before i move on, it's crazy how the Team kept punching me in the gut for the "Eye of Horus/Ra" stem of the Goop!4 theory and now they jumped into the theory's "Eye of God" and Christianity thing with Mario's new form. "wow Mario really is 4's avatar" i can never catch a break 😔 /silly

here's some context *flashback noises*:

*le gasp* he apologized?! BIG MOMENT HERE FOLKS AAAAAA

...and it didn't work? oh shit. i'm still very proud of you 3 💙

THIS. THIS RIGHT HERE SAYS SO MANY THINGS.

ok ok first off, the fact that 3 was serious about his apology. For once, doing the right thing only to be rejected. It feels very similar to the YT arc when 3 was doing his own thing with Snitch Productions. Here tho, 4 is affirming 3's actions, approving it. 3 really did good. if it was 4 back in the classic era, 4 might've had a harder time believing 3 bc of them being enemies, which was what eventually caused Snitch Productions to get destroyed and 3 clicking into his villain arc. BUT HERE, 4 believed and trusted 3's sincerity, especially since we all know 3 isn't the usual type to be emotionally vulnerable. 4 knows bc of what 3 said to him in IGBP

second, this might be a dark subject so fair warning about death. can we talk about how 4, time and time again, doesn't mind the idea of dying? I know we talked about the death guidelines of this universe and sure, it entirely depends on the context/intent behind it. But the fact he's ok with it regardless... Here, in IGBP, and other sillier episodes, it's almost like he accepts it as some sort of punishment, just enough bc by what seems like the end for him, he's doing the right thing or something he loved or from his own doing/fault. And that is what i worry bc in a serious arc, sooner or later, something like this is gonna happen again, and 4 might say he accepts this supposed fate bc he "deserved it" after everything he's done, even before IGBP. This got sad real quick, dude

Really, Team? All this in a silly spooky episode? damn

...let's go on and try to go back to silly mode, ok? ok

GET PRANKED, BRUH‼️🚨🚨‼️‼️

*shaking violently* Team, was it necessary for you to shove the fact that the window to the boarded-up room is right there, in my face? really?

and let's not prank Mario ever again :D

Congrats to Not_wizz for your art being featured in the end credits 🎉

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

[Ink here! Sorry for the late review, I literally passed out for the whole day from the conference and immediately had a rough production day yesterday. But I'm here now, coming in fashionably late 💅]

This. This was an INCREDIBLE episode, I don't even know how. The animation, the story, all of it was crazy /very pos. If you haven't noticed my insanity already, this feels too familiar to IGBP (says the co-CEO of the Goop!4 theory). at this point, the Team is teasing us. So Team, while I'm upset at the fact that I had to miss this, touché. congrats, you got me good.

Now, some of you might've noticed in the end credits that Cube is the producer instead of Kevin. For the jokes and giggles, Kev may not make it out alive from Creator Clash when his opponent's out for blood, so he's passing it over to Cube. Even some of the Team joked about it when it was first announced RIP Kev /jk.

But no seriously, Cube has been the producer for several episodes now and it's nice to see the Team growing and trusting each other with these roles. I'm sure Kev will be around but hey, things change. we just gotta adapt.

Ok, back to the episode itself. 3 & 4 have really shown how much they've grown over all these years. Obviously 4, who didn't do "childish" pranks before, now does bc of 3's influence and is really getting along with 3. But 3 went through some change from 4's influence as well, episodes before and "subtlety" now. 3 tried to save his friends in Puzzle Park (more worried of their safety than his own) and now he apologizes for that prank they did to Mario. Like he said, he swallowed his pride, and 4 believed in his word. another step of character development for these two, we love to see it.

and ofc, another episode of our goofball Mario, it's really in-character for him to into a biblically accurate angel just for a prank lol.

Anyway, this has been an incredible episode and I applaud to everyone who worked on this 👏 something's brewing and I'm so excited to see what comes next. Apparently, I owe my moot a can of rizz soda so chat, I'll see you all at the next one, and remember: numbers go first........

...so *slowly turns chair* Team, what's up with that title huh? you ain't slick, "SMG4: IT'S A ME..." is LITERALLY a few words away from "SMG4: IT'S GOTTA BE PERFECT". and HEY, what's up with the framing showing the DOOR, huh? NO i'm not delusional, ANSWER MEEEE /silly

[nextstopwonderland]

(I put an abridged version of this untagged on my blog but honestly i need to give it a longer tagged write-up)

So Yuta saw this side of my sign before his match against Willie Mack at the Oakland Collision:

while he was looking at the hard cam (which is where I was front row with @sonnykissed) and yelled “he’s DEAD he’s DEAD” right at me to which I think I cursed my head off at him idk I go into automatic when it comes to Bryan and slander and also Yuta being a shit post-murder.

(Watching it back now here’s what the camera caught: here’s the tail-end of him yelling ‘DEAD’ while I point at him and wave the sign and say ‘fuck you!’ I’m pretty sure 🤣)

So I’m randomly waving the sign during the match at times while also trying to update y’all on things

He does I have till 5 which I mostly miss and then once again curse him the fuck out (while apparently Nigel on comm also calls him out for it and also for Bryan ( thanks for that info @shes-a-voodoo-child)

When I listened back Nigel said “people questioned Yuta, I questioned Yuta when Moxley forced him to do what he did to Bryan Danielson” and then “I have till 5 an oft repeated phrase from the American Dragon Bryan Danielson, again Wheeler Yuta reveling on the fact that he was the one that caused the end Bryan Danielson’s career, at least for the time being.” AT LEAST FOR THE TIME BEING. do you miss your dragon Nigel? Do you know something? Are you gonna visit him in Napa while he’s on child and chicken duty before Sacramento and plot a revolution return? (A girl can dream okay)

So then Mox comes. I try to get him to see my sign but he doesn’t. He tries to brainwash Yuta into “finishing the job” and I yell over and over “don’t do it don’t do” (at that point we didn’t know he was telling him to take out cope on weds we thought he just wanted him to take out Mack which also happened) I can definitely hear myself screaming in the clip although none of the words are clear I’m sure I’m sure I’m booing and calling him a piece of shit among other things

But then I watch him in the ring stroke that briefcase, like lovingly stroke it and I see emotion on his face, real emotion and I’m like oh shit, What’s happening here? An Actual Yuta conflicted character arc after so long with legit nothing?

And my first thought as he stroked that briefcase that way was what was inside it. And the last time he ever saw what was inside it. And who was wearing it. And who it belonged to.

And I know for sure he was thinking of it, too. In fact it was pointed out to me by @extracurriculargrief that the last time he ever even touched the belt was this moment:

Was that going through his head?

So he’s leaving the ring and I’m still kinda pissed at him for doing mox’s dirty work even while realizing he could now be Going Through It and I start screaming “THINK ABOUT IT YUTA!!” while waving the still missing Bryan Danielson part of my sign. The same part he dismissed to me earlier.

(Apparently I can be seen on camera yelling at him on the fite feed. I have not been able to find the fite feed yet.)

And he’s standing by the ring post and turns to look at me while I repeat it over and over and he is staring at me, staring at the sign, solemn and serious and I can see his eyes because he moved his hair during that whole emotional moment and he says to me “I will. I will. I will” while nodding and still clutching that briefcase to his chest, still totally and fully in character.

And I nod to him and I think I smile a small sad smile, just completely overcome, and then I collapsed into @sonnykissed because that emotionally drained me and YEAH folks

Never expected to contribute to the death riders storyline (especially when I’d all but given up on them actually continuing the Yuta part of it in terms of Bryan) but here we are

Here we are. I have no idea what will happen here:

I’m going to the sacramento show and I was already planning to bring the same sign (but to update the days) but now I’m pretty sure I’m also going to update it with words coming out of the sad dragon’s mouth. He’ll be saying “think about it Yuta.”

[haxeroo]

Romantic surprise

Summary: Unexpected challenge. Date, with Daryl. What was supposed to be a disaster, turned out to be a great victory.

Warnings: curses (I think that's all?)

Era: Whatever tbh, but the action takes place at Hilltop

Word count: 3.9k

Something from me: Hello again. Thank you very much for the warm reception of my first work, I didn't expect this.. Catch another, totally different idea. Sorry for all the mistakes. I hope you like it! <3

"– Draw."

You looked at Carol in disbelief. She was sitting at the table, arms crossed, looking at you with that unreadable expression on her face. The one that said there was no point in arguing.

You raised an eyebrow, sensing there might be some joke behind this. "Seriously? A date in the middle of the apocalypse?"

"Got something better to do?"

And she had you there. Because no, you didn’t. You sighed quietly, reaching for one of the folded pieces of paper. You slowly unfolded it, as if your life depended on it.

DARYL.

You froze.

Carol snorted with laughter. "Well, good luck."

Oh, shit.

Her tone didn’t sound encouraging – more like a challenge. Because it was no secret that Daryl... well, he wasn’t exactly the easiest person to approach.

You watched Carol walk toward Maggie, and when both of them covered their mouths and glanced your way, it became clear that this whole "drawing" thing was nothing but a clever plan. And soon enough, the whole Hilltop would know about it.

Which meant you had to act fast.

You sighed, glancing at the paper again, almost hoping the name would magically disappear. Unfortunately, it didn’t. So if you were going to do this, it had to be on your terms.

You smiled slightly, took the rubber band off your hair, and ran your fingers through it, letting it fall in a loose mess. The last raspberry from your plate served as a subtle touch to redden your cheeks – a small detail, but the girls at the table immediately gave you thumbs up.

Here we go.

You walked toward the garage.

Daryl, as usual, was tinkering with one of the vehicles. He was lying under the car, completely indifferent to the thick, tar-like liquid dripping down his forearm.

You crouched next to the car and peeked underneath.

"Want some help?" you asked, maybe a bit too innocently.

Daryl froze for a second, then barely lifted his head.

"Nah."

You weren’t discouraged.

"Then maybe you want to help me?" this time, it came out more like you.

You heard the clink of a wrench falling to the asphalt. After a moment, the man slid out from under the vehicle, propping himself up on his forearm. He looked at you with furrowed brows – not a bad look, more like... cautious.

"With what? I ain't got all day, girl."

You hesitated for just a fraction of a second.

"We're going on a date."

Daryl blinked slowly.

"The fuck we are."

You sighed and lifted the piece of paper to eye level.

"Before you start blaming me..." You moved just enough so he could see Carol and Maggie, who were openly watching the whole scene from the other side of the yard. "It was Carol’s idea."

Daryl didn’t need to say anything. A single glance was enough.

"‘M not gonna be a part of this."

"Daryl." You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice as if you were revealing some big secret. "If we don’t do this, she won’t leave us alone for another month."

And that stopped him.

Because Carol could be incredibly stubborn.

Daryl furrowed his brows, chewed on the inside of his cheek, then let out a short, drawn-out:

"Shit."

It wasn’t a "yes."

But it wasn’t a "no" either.

And that was something.

Daryl sighed heavily and waved his hand.

"’Kay, whatever," he muttered, then almost immediately disappeared back under the car.

You glanced at Carol, who raised an eyebrow meaningfully, then back at him.

"So… come on?" you said with amusement, seeing his movements slow for a moment.

"Ain’t got time now. Later." His voice was muffled but firm enough that most people would have given up.

But you weren’t "most people."

"But Carol needs to see that we’re going, y’know." You pressed, barely holding back a wide smile. "So it kinda has to be now."

Something between a grunt and a sigh escaped his lips – heavy, resigned, slightly irritated. Something that, in his language, could mean "damn it" or "why the hell am I doing this."

After a moment, his head slid out from under the vehicle, and he started wiping his hands on a black rag. He did it quickly, almost nervously. But he did it.

So the first step was done.

Once Daryl looked down, you quickly turned back to Carol and Maggie, raising your clenched fist in the air. A sign of triumph. You didn’t wait for their reaction – you knew they were impressed – only looked back at Daryl.

This time, he was wiping his hands on his pants, clearly irritated with the whole situation.

"Where are we going?" you asked with exaggerated sweetness, knowing exactly how it would irritate him.

"Ya tell me," he almost growled, giving you a brief, suspicious glance.

You feigned surprise, but only for a second.

"You know, where I come from, men choose the date spots." You put a hand on your hip, purposefully looking at him, clearly aware of what it was doing to him.

In his piercing eyes – cold blue, seeing right through you.

"‘N back where I’m from, we ain’t dating."

You sighed ostentatiously and rolled your eyes.

Then, you smoothly turned on your heel, not looking back, but gesturing with your finger for him to follow you.

To your surprise, he did.

You felt a shiver run down your spine.

"Well… today you do." You smiled lightly. "So think of something, or I will."

You looked at him again, unable to resist.

"And trust me… you don’t want that."

The man raised an eyebrow in surprise. Something passed over his face – a single emotion you couldn’t read.

You didn’t comment on it.

You slowed down to match his pace and very subtly stared at him. You made it clear that you were waiting.

Daryl got the message. But still, for a long moment, he didn’t say a word.

"So?" you finally asked.

"So wha’?"

"Any ideas? Or maybe you want my help, after all?"

Daryl froze for a second. Was that... hesitation?

No, he looked more lost. And that was new. His blue eyes scanned the area as if looking for a hint, some kind of escape.

Finally, after a long pause, he just shrugged.

"Walkin’ counts."

A smile crept up on your lips.

"Indeed it does," you nodded seriously. "So, a romantic walk. Nice."

"’S just a walk."

"No," you immediately disagreed, too quickly for it to be accidental. "It has to be a romantic walk. It’s a date, remember?"

And again, that strange emotion on his face.

His gaze weighed heavily on your shoulders, and you could feel Daryl was about to say something. He even opened his mouth...

…but then he closed it again.

You weren’t about to press him. But you also weren’t going to let it slide.

"Tell me something romantic, then," you said casually, deliberately looking away.

You knew that if you saw his face, you’d burst out laughing.

"Not happenin’."

"Why is that?" you feigned surprise. Very exaggerated surprise. 

You raised an eyebrow in silent shock and added a slightly sad expression. Not even a second passed before Daryl was raising his hand in a defensive gesture.

Wow.

Daryl. On the defensive.

You were getting better at this.

"We just gotta show Carol that we’re talkin’," he corrected immediately, as if he wanted to end the topic. "That’s it."

You hesitated.

It was a good excuse – it fit the narrative of "Carol made me do it, I don’t want this." But the truth was completely different.

You wanted to get to know Dixon better. And everyone saw that.

Everyone, except him.

You’d tried a few times already – pulling him for hunting, scouting, anything. But Daryl always found a way to back out. Maybe he was closed off, maybe just oblivious. Either way, it ended in failure.

But you weren’t going to give up.

"If we do something, let’s do it properly," you said, choosing your words with exaggerated care.

Deliberately.

You knew it was a bit of a stretch, but you didn’t let it show.

"I don’t like doing things half-heartedly."

Daryl didn’t counter, though he probably could’ve. You weren’t about to give him the time to do that.

"We have to do something romantic," you added quickly, before he had a chance to wiggle out of it.

Daryl slumped his shoulders a little. A small change in his posture, but it was enough for you to notice.

Resignation.

Had he given up?

He furrowed his brows and looked at you as if weighing how serious you were.

"'N what do ya call romantic?" he mumbled after a moment.

That was something.

Those words lit a fire in you. Was Daryl finally falling into your carefully laid trap?

You smiled lightly, feeling like you were slowly winning.

"I dunno," you threw back innocently. "Maybe you should figure it out?"

Daryl sighed heavily, then… He turned away and walked toward the gate.

"C'mon, princess." He called over his shoulder, not even checking if you were following.

Your eyes lit up. Something fluttered in your stomach.

Oh. My. God.

One word, one phrase—and you already felt like a teenager. Not a good sign.

It was a tragic sign.

Only now did you realize you were playing with fire. Your victory was temporary, fragile. Daryl could shatter it at any moment, though you weren’t sure if he even realized that.

You followed him without hesitation.

For a moment, he vanished from your sight, turning between the buildings, and when you caught up, you noticed him packing something into his bag.

A second too late.

You didn’t see exactly what he was shoving in there with such passion, but you decided that a little surprise might work in your favor. Only now did you notice the motorcycle.

You froze.

You stood like a pillar, staring at it in utter disbelief. He must’ve noticed.

"Ya goin’?" he called, raising an eyebrow.

You shook yourself out of your daze and nodded.

You stepped closer, feeling a slight hesitation that Daryl didn’t seem to care about. He grabbed the handlebars, leaning slightly forward, then—almost imperceptibly—tilted the bike toward you.

You grabbed his shoulders.

Your eyes scanned the patches on his vest.

The touch—despite three layers of clothing—shocked you like electricity. But you didn’t pull back.

You took your place behind him. There wasn’t any question about whether you were ready. The kickstand lifted with a quiet snap. The roar of the engine hit your ears.

You pressed against his back—definitely a bit too much.

Partly, you just wanted it. Partly out of necessity, because the motorcycle took off faster than you thought it could.

You didn’t even know when you’d left the settlement.

You glanced over your shoulder, sensing someone’s gaze. Carol. She stood in the distance, looking at you with a clearly proud expression. You smiled to yourself, but didn’t wave. You’d have to let go of Daryl to do that.

That wasn’t an option. You closed your eyes.

And then you felt him.

The forest. Steel. Sweat.

A combination of scents that, right now, was dangerously attractive.

You inched a little higher, closer to his neck. It was too comfortable. Too good. So good that you almost… drifted away. It felt like you were dreaming while awake.

But then—suddenly—something yanked you away. A force pulling you away from the man, and you almost sighed in disappointment. Almost.

You quickly opened your eyes, only now realizing he’d braked. And hard. Like he wanted to make a point, but you had no idea how long you’d been riding.

– "Are ya sleepin’ or what?" His voice hit you straight in the consciousness.

You mentally cursed yourself and quickly got off the bike. Literally and figuratively.

When your feet hit the ground, you barely steadied your suddenly weak knees. 

Oh no. 

That’s all you managed to think before Daryl looked at you, scanning you from head to toe. You weren’t even sure what you were afraid of.

"Ya cold?" he asked, and something soft appeared in his eyes.

Too soft for Daryl Dixon.

Concern. Worry.

If you could, you would’ve screamed. When had this whole situation slipped out of your control?

You shook your head, Daryl didn’t seem convinced. He nodded, though, as if understanding. You had goosebumps—he asked probably because of that—but it definitely wasn’t the temperature.

"Where are we going?" you finally squeezed out, noticing a very subtle quiver in your voice.

The man led the way through the bushes. He didn’t turn to you, only spoke when he cleared an obstacle in your path.

"Surprises are romantic, ain't they?"

If you could, you would’ve just passed out.

You didn’t respond because Dixon didn’t give you a glance, but even if he had, you weren’t sure you could.

You walked for a short while. You left the motorcycle behind, now covered with branches that lay nearby. The rustling leaves and the gentle breeze were the only stimuli you clung to like a drowning person. Thanks to them, you were still keeping your wits about you.

You laughed quietly, a little too loud for the silence around you. You snorted, freezing in place when you realized how irrational it was. You were losing your mind. For sure.

"What's so funny?" Daryl suddenly asked, completely surprising you.

Nothing.

Your mind was a blank slate. You felt cold sweat on your neck as you desperately tried to come up with any response.

"My shoes..." you blurted out without thinking, looking down at your feet.

Even you were surprised by that comment.

"They are very appropriate for our trip, aren't they?"

You mentally slapped yourself. Really? That was the best you had?

Daryl stopped and looked down at your shoes. Black, with a slightly higher wedge than they should’ve had for a forest trip. Half-covered in mud, damp from the earth that hadn’t dried from yesterday’s rain.

"Ya pick them on purpose or ya just stupid?" he raised an eyebrow, but his voice held no malice.

You snorted, pretending to be offended.

"I'd say a little bit of both."

The corner of his mouth twitched, barely noticeable. Maybe it was a shadow of a smile. Maybe you just imagined it.

He moved forward without waiting for your response. You also took a step forward, trying to ignore the dampness soaking into your shoes.

For a moment, you walked in silence until you began to notice something beyond the trees and shrubs.

A clearing.

It wasn’t large, but it seemed almost... untouched. Thick, lush grass, interspersed with purple flowers here and there. In the distance, you could see what looked like a small stream lazily cutting through the land.

Daryl stopped at the edge, as if checking your reaction.

“That romantic enough for ya?” he said, still not looking at you.

You didn’t answer right away. Your mind was too occupied—because here you were, in a place that felt like it had been pulled from another world.

Daryl walked toward the clearing, and though your shoes begged for mercy, you followed him without hesitation.

The sun was breaking through the treetops, casting golden spots on the grass. The light reflected in delicate waves on the surface of the stream, making the water look like liquid glass.

You didn’t know what to say. Maybe that was the point. Maybe this was one of those places that spoke for itself.

Daryl crouched next to his backpack and began pulling things out. You thought for a moment that he might be preparing a meal, but no. Instead, there was a small knife, and... binoculars.

You furrowed your brows.

“Are we spying on someone?”

Daryl snorted, checking the sharpness of the knife as if it was the most normal question in the world.

“Nah.” He shrugged. “Figured ya might wanna see somethin' cool.”

Before you could ask what he meant, he nodded toward the trees. You followed his gaze and then you saw it.

Perched on one of the higher branches was a large, brown bird—an eagle, maybe a hawk, you weren’t sure. It looked regal, its feathers gleaming in the rays of the setting sun.

Daryl handed you the binoculars.

“Take a look.”

You didn’t hesitate. You lifted it to your eyes and froze. You could see every detail—the razor-sharp talons, the watchful eyes, the slight tremor of the feathers in the wind.

“Wow...” you whispered, unable to contain your awe.

Daryl was silent, but you could feel his gaze on you. It seemed like he was more interested in your reaction than the bird itself.

You lowered the binoculars and looked at him.

“How did you find this place?”

He thought for a moment, then shrugged.

“Been 'round. Saw it. Thought ya might like it.”

Something stirred inside you. Maybe it was the wind, or maybe something else entirely.

You didn’t respond, but smiled softly, sitting down on the grass.

Daryl did the same.

And for a moment, in this strange, unreal world, time seemed to stop.

For a moment, everything felt suspended. Only the wind sang through the trees, and the eagle slowly soared toward the sky, as if that moment could last forever.

Daryl kicked a stone with his foot, breaking the silence. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, and his lips curled into a slight, almost imperceptible smile.

“Ya lookin' all peaceful, ain't ya?”

A warmth spread through your chest, but you decided not to react immediately. You simply smiled back, feeling a strange relief, like you had finally found a moment of peace you had long been missing.

You struggled to tear your gaze away from the bird, which had disappeared into the clouds, and looked at him. Daryl was sitting next to you, his hands resting on his knees, but his posture was much more relaxed than usual.

You didn’t have to say anything to feel the subtle shift between you two. This wasn’t a moment full of words, and it didn’t have to be. His presence said more than any questions you could have asked.

And suddenly, after that long silence, Daryl spoke again.

“Ya know, sometimes it's nice just to... stop thinkin'... for a bit.”

His voice sounded different—calmer, like those words were rare for him.

You paused, then opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, Daryl changed the subject.

“Don’t get used to it, though. Ain’t like this happens often.”

You chuckled quietly, but inside, you felt a strange sense of relief. Something about this moment was so normal, yet so atypical, that you almost wanted it to last longer.

“I won’t” you replied softly.

He looked at you for a moment, then nodded, as if convinced. Silence fell again, but it was a different kind of silence—one that wasn’t uncomfortable or tense, just... peaceful.

At least, until...

He grabbed your shoulder, and the warmth of his hand shot through you like an electric jolt. The moment his touch became inevitable lasted only a fraction of a second, but it felt like time had stopped for a moment. You forgot everything—about the motorcycle, the forest, the uncertainty you had been trying to hide.

Your heart stopped for a beat, and Daryl’s gaze, as he lifted his head, was so intense that it almost felt like he was peering into your soul. His eyes weren’t as cold as they had been before—now they held something more, as if, for that brief instant, he became... available.

You couldn’t bear it any longer. The torment.

Instinctively, you grabbed him by the collar and pulled him toward you with a strength you didn’t know you had. Your lips almost collided. Your uncertainty vanished into oblivion as Daryl took complete control, stealing any direction from you. His grip on your shoulder tightened, and you couldn’t stop the hum of satisfaction that escaped into his mouth.

You felt everything like it was in a haze. The butterfly touch on your cheek. The warmth building between you. The tickling sensation on your face as Daryl leaned in closer, his hair brushing against your skin.

You didn’t want to break it, even though you felt a burning emptiness in your lungs.

But you didn’t have to, because Daryl pulled away from you. Too suddenly, by your standards.

You opened your eyes, seeing his pupils dilated to their limits as they fixed on something behind you. A sharp whoosh of something slicing through the air, a gust of wind centimeters from your face, and the soft thud of a body falling.

You turned around, your mouth slightly ajar in shock. A rotten body lay just a meter away from you. The small knife that Daryl had pulled out earlier was embedded perfectly in the center of the zombie’s forehead, and it now lay lifeless.

“I told ya, don’t get used to it.”

You exhaled the breath you had been holding with a soft hiss. You didn’t even have the presence of mind to think about your momentary lapse. Your whole mind was focused on him. On his perfect accuracy, the vigilance that clearly never left him, the almost nonchalant way he carried himself, which somehow bought you in completely.

You turned back to him, feeling your heart race again, but this time, it wasn’t fear. It was something else—something that pulled you toward him with every passing moment spent together. Daryl was like a mystery you wanted to uncover, but at the same time, you feared what lay behind that gaze.

You looked at him, and he still stared ahead, but you could feel how close his presence was. His arm brushed lightly against yours, as though he hadn’t noticed the proximity. But you knew he did. 

He felt it. He knew it.

Suddenly, without warning, Daryl looked at you. His eyes held uncertainty, maybe even anger, but also something you couldn’t name. He looked at you for a moment, like he didn’t know what to say.

Then, for a moment, he blinked, as if trying to control something that had suddenly risen in his chest. He moved a little closer, and you felt the warmth of his body. There was an unspoken thing hanging in the air, something neither of you could quite understand yet.

“You're gettin' under my skin...” he said, with a soft sigh, as though trying to explain what he felt but couldn’t find the words—“Teasin' me all day...”

You smiled faintly, not sure if it was a challenge. Seeing that moment of hesitation in his eyes, you felt something shift. Like all those moments of silence now held something more than just quiet.

“Maybe that’s the point,” you replied softly.

His gaze grew more intense, almost piercing. You didn’t know if it was desire or something else—but there was something in it. You could feel it, even though he said nothing.

“I don't know what you're doin' to me,” he said with frustration, but his tone was strangely soft, as if he couldn’t hide what he was really feeling anymore. 

That feeling that connected you both was hard to grasp, but you couldn’t ignore it.

You didn’t respond, only moved closer until you felt your breaths start to mingle. For a moment, you didn’t speak, just stayed there, in that space that was becoming more and more intimate.

And then Daryl surprised you again, pulling you toward him unexpectedly. His strong, sure hands landed on your hips, and his warm breath wrapped around you like a cloak. Before you could pull away, you felt his lips on yours—first gently, as if testing what would happen, and then with an intensity you hadn’t expected.

It was like an explosion you had feared, but at the same time, you didn’t want it to end. You felt the world vanish, and the only thing that mattered was that moment. You felt his hands on your back, pulling you closer, as if he didn’t want to let go, as if he wanted to keep you there forever.

When he finally pulled away, you couldn’t catch your breath. He had always been so closed off, with that mysterious posture, but now... now he was like a book, the pages finally ready to be discovered.

He looked at you with expectation, uncertainty, but also with something special.

“Don’t run away from me,” he whispered, and those words carried more emotion than the rest of the conversation put together.

They were intertwined with a delicate tease, laughter. They sounded so light, yet so certain.

“You’ll never get rid of me" you whispered back.

And somehow, neither of you were ready to say goodbye yet.

[palespawn]

i’m gonna be real for a sec — astarion is mostly always gonna be the one who “fell harder” in a relationship

[arionaleilani]

1. it’s my 24th birthday today, so my goal of being published by the time i’m 25 is now a one year looming monster, but i never specified what kind of published and am currently looking in various literary magazines that are recommended for writers who have yet to be published, so i’m surprisingly confident that i can make it work? and tbh even if whatever i write isn’t officially published before my 25th birthday, if i have someone in the process of being published then i’ll be happy!! no matter what though, i’m gonna try to be proud of myself for at least giving it my best shot!!

2. i honestly love that my birthday is on the ides of march because the ides of march meme shitposting is only a thing on tumblr but it also being my birthday makes it easier to like. be excited about the ides of march outside of tumblr. like even in person i can be like “it’s my birthday! i’m an ides of march babe (:” and if someone is like oh what’s that? or if they say something along the lines of oh like julius caesar? i can be like yep!! and even if it’s a small thing outside of tumblr it brings me immense enjoyment and amusement being able to bring it up off of tumblr

3. transportation situation has been very rough since june 2023 when i totalled my car, my gap insurance are being assholes and i ended up putting my foot down on the phone with them yesterday which i’m pretty proud of because i am NOT a confrontational person (something i’ve been working on this past year, so seeing some improvement with my ability to hold my ground and not be a pushover yesterday was very cool!!) i was told i’d get a response from them by friday next week no matter what, and if i don’t then friday of next week i will continue to wreak havoc upon them. but my moms car which i’ve been using since my accident broke down yesterday, hopefully it’s fixable but my parents were saying it might be done for, so trying to think of how i’m gonna get to work next week is kind of stressing me out lmao, but for now i’m just gonna focus on enjoying my birthday the best i can because i don’t want to start off being 24 with an overwhelming anxiety for something that won’t be a potential issue until monday. plus i already messaged my boss today to let her know that i’m going to do everything i can to make it work out but just so she’s in the loop and knows of the potential of me not being able to make my morning shifts (one of my coworkers said she’s more than happy to give me a ride for our afternoon shifts which does help relieve some of the stress!) and i told her i’d let her know for sure sunday so that if necessary she can have time to figure out someone to fill in for me in the mornings!

overall: life is weird and i ended being 23 yesterday with a shitty situation but a positive outlook and i am going to enjoy my first day of being 24 no matter what because honestly i fucking earned it. happy friday everyone, i hope it’s a good day for you and me both!

[litt1e-prince]

living in my own home away from my dad but he still waits up for me to get home

[skrunksthatwunk]

been cleaning my dorm for like 4 hours and it somehow does not feel like it has amounted to anything

[daemonbrain]

Part 2

1.8k, cw: ghosts a pervert, smut, readers husband is piece of work, not proofread.

Simon Riley who first saw you at the butcher's shop on the phone. 

You were a pretty thing. Wearing a pink little yoga set, one arm holding your mat and the other holding your phone to your ear as you wait for the butcher to bring out your cut of meat.

Which was taking a long time

Simon would’ve had it chopped and packed to go by now. Though, he can’t complain with the view he has of your ass- you. The man was touch starved. He hadn’t been back home in a while, back-to-back deployments keeping him occupied. His only company being his calloused and scraped hands roughly jerking himself until he came, bordering on unpleasurable. Not what some could consider enjoyable, but try being in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere for weeks on end and see if you care so much about gentle.

The borderline perverted look you were blissfully unaware of was tracking down your form. He stared at the way the material tightly clung on to every bit of you in a welcoming way, a second skin. The sweat on you from your little session.

Just how flexible does yoga make a bird like you?

It was only when he heard a grating sound come from your phone that he snapped out of his trance. Even with his bad ears from all the bullets whizzing past him, bombs going off within meters of him, and the usual shit show he did for a living he could hear the voice which bled through your phone's speaker.

"Get me a steak this time. Nonna that nasty shit from last time!"

You hurriedly turned your volume down as it blasted in your ear, startled by the voice. Chewing on your lip you pivoted towards the counter to see if your order had been brought out; the motion to no avail as the employee continued chopping away in the back room.

It was only when your other hand came into full view from the motion he noticed the absolute rock on your finger.

"Honey, I thought the salmon was pretty good." That prick clearly firing something back as you winced away from your phone once again. Gritting your teeth as if biting back your arguments, looking around to occupy your time as the man on the phone continues to speak. "I know... I'm sorry. Don't worry, it'll be ready by 7." You placatingly cooed.

"Listen, I have to go. I love y-" You began, but the moment the words tumbled from your lips you pulled the phone fully from your cheek to see a blank screen with the time staring back on you. The asshole hung up!

What a fuckin tosser.

Simon hears the butcher finally call your name with familiarity and with a sigh you step towards the counter. 

He leaned on to the wall further as he had been the entire time. Silent. Unsettling. A stark contrast to your bright appearance in the shop, the larger man brooded in his corner waiting his turn.

“See ya’ next Friday!” You still managed a bright smile at the butcher who handed you your meat.

A mild thing like you really shouldn’t be talked to so thoughtlessly, some guys are fuckwits though. He never liked the type. Why lock a bird down with a ring if you were gonna be mean to her?

“S’cuse me sir, i’m just gonna push past you here” You asked. With widened eyes, Simon gruffly mumbled a “Yeah,” out before creating a stupidly small space.

Maybe he really did want you to push past him. Or just push up on him but oh well.

Sweeping past him, you give him a toothy smile as you had so sweetly done to the butcher, as if you hadn’t got yelled at less than five minutes ago. God you really have no common sense, beaming up at the lurker in the corner at least twice your size. A girl as pretty as you should really stick to herself.

From that interaction on, Simon found himself being guided by the memory of you back to the butcher shop the next Friday.

And the next…

And the next.

Every week progressively standing closer and closer to you as you picked up your usual order. One day you had taken the liberty of starting small talk with him after recognizing his unmistakable stature. After all, there were only so many people you had seen in this shop and none so… large.

You could not deny you found this mystery man disquieting. Always dressed in dark colours, not so much as a word coming from him. Like clockwork you would come in after hot yoga, greet the butcher, he would come in, silence would ensue as you both waited for your meat, and you would leave with a quick smile.

It was rude. He had never even said a simple hello to you! Though, you suppose that it could be due to your own curt exits. The thought of the unkindness you might’ve exhibited subconsciously sent your mind into a spiral, leading to your abrupt introduction.

After all, who were you to judge! Kindness is and should always be the response in your books.

At this kindness, Simon swore he had to take a breath in as you politely outstretched your hand and spoke your name casually. Tilting his head down to your face he raises a brow skeptically, and then firmly shakes your head.

He failed to hide the shudder which wracked his body. The way your hand effortlessly slipped into his. Soft and manicured engulfed in his.

“Simon.”

“Well it’s good to meet you Simon” With the twinkly little smile you would grace him as you hauled it out of the shop. He felt the shiver go down his spine a second time when you spoke his name for the first time.

And then- it happened.

You giggled. A soft thing, no doubt intended to be small. It wasn’t to Simon though. It reverberated throughout the room, rang so prettily in his ears. Fuck. He would remember that sound later on tonight.

“Are you cold? You keep shivering. It’s pretty harsh out there right now.”

“Nah. Not really.” His accent thick as he shrugged.

Letting out a little “mhm” you nod and look back to the counter.

“I was freezing outside! Usually I walk home-” Simon already knew that “-but today I called my husband to come grab me! Way too cold!”

That visibly made him stiffen. Of course. Perfectly normal that guy is coming to get you, he’d be an idiot to leave you walking home alone in the cold.

If you were his girl, Simon wouldn’t have let you out of his sight. Fuck sakes you practically had “come mess with me” written all over you. There were creeps all over the place nowadays, (thought the creep).

He would’ve carried everything for you, scarfed down whatever the hell you had taken the time to prepare him. That husband of yours doesn’t like your salmon? Simon would. Hell if he didn’t, he’d cram it down his throat with gratitude anyways. He doubted anything could be worse than some of the rations he’s eaten on duty. 

That train of thought is pretty redundant when he takes note of how you wouldn’t be able to leave the bed to make anything.

Maybe you’d cram something of his down your throat in gratitude.

Shaking his head subtly, he hears the bells of the store door opening. He watched your face fall as you step away from him and it’s when he sees your husband's look of complete irritation he understands why.

You had grabbed your order swiftly and with a quick wave goodbye you were on your way back to your husband. Simon could only register your husband's whisper-yell as he disapprovingly glared his way. “The fuck are you doin talking to him?”. And with that you were hurriedly ushered out.

You deigned it necessary to continue greeting Simon, have little chats about the weather, any plans he had for the weekend. Tossing in your stupid jokes that he would laugh at. You interpreted it as something closer to a breathy snort-hopefully positive- and it went on as such for weeks

And every time he returned home Friday night, he came home with only one thought after. You.

As he laid in bed the same thought persisted as he slipped his cock out of his boxers, red and weeping for some sort of stimulation. He took to his usual harsh pace. You’d be so much softer.

You’d be so nice to him wouldn’t you? Coo some compliment as he lets you tug at him. Fuck he wouldn’t know what to take first.

Would you give him a blowie or a hand job? 

No. You wouldn’t be on your knees- not yet. If you’d let him have you, you’d be on your back in an instant. He’d rip the stitches of those leggings right down the middle, your panties next.

“Fuuuuuck” he moaned into the quiet of his room. He’d stick it in slow, he’d try. It would be torture not to ram himself right up to the hilt, but he’d do it for such a good girl.

That’s what you were, weren’t you? Always a nice word for someone? What would you say to him when he began to rut into you like a madman. When you would feel the pummeling intrusion, his head knocking into the deepest parts of you.

He’d be able bend you into so many different positions that you’d better hope that yoga has taught you well. Split your legs open to accommodate his imposing body size as he’d take purchase between them. Then you better hope your cunny can accommodate his other size when he spears you open on his cock.

Would you take it smiling? Would your tears roll down your cheeks, the prodding bordering too much? You’d take it either way, he knew you could. He’d rub at your clit with such tenderness he never afforded himself (as gentle as he could anyway). He’d make sure you begged to stay on his cock forever, fuck himself so deep you would be too stupid to pull away unknowing of where he ended and you started. Not that you’d have to care.

He’d flip you on to all fours and rip away your clothes entirely, pounding you from the back and instead of just his own labored breaths, the sound of skin slapping together would ring out.

In silent stoicism, he feels his balls tighten up at the thought of your perfect face stuffed into the pillows screaming your thank you’s. You probably were just as nice with someone stuffing themselves into your pussy.

At both his ruthless ministrations and boundless imagination, his release spurted all over his hand with a breathy sigh. When you were here he’d make sure to slam his hips to yours and keep them flush against you, coat your insides in hot cum better than your limp-dick husband ever could. That man wouldn’t be able to fuck you the way Simon knew he could. You deserve someone who could make you go stupid on his dick, not cry of frustration like you probably did everytime that knob who thinks himself a man rolled over after finishing himself off.

Not that you’ll have to worry about that soon

…

He wouldn’t be around for much longer anyways.

[sttoru]

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. dad!toji x wife!reader. fluff, just pure fluff. reader gets called ‘doll’ once.

toji sits on the edge of megumi’s bed, arms casually draped over his knees, watching with an amused grin as you fuss over your son. you’re lecturing him about being more careful when playing with the other kids at daycare, replacing the bandages on his arms that had gotten scuffed from a tumble.

megumi sulks, his little face scrunched up, but he doesn’t dare to say a word. his gaze is cast downward and he knows better than to challenge you when you’re in your ‘mom’ mode.

toji chuckles to himself. the little brat—just like his old man, he thinks. neither of them ever have the guts to talk back when you’re laying down the law.

with a lazy smirk, toji reaches over and ruffles megumi’s hair in an affectionate and teasing way. “it's fine, doll,” he says in attempt to reassure you, “shit happens. ‘n it toughens up the kid.”

you shoot him a look over your shoulder and toji just shrugs. “he’s just like you, ya know,” you mutter as you brush a stray lock of hair from megumi's face. indeed, the little boy resembles his father in looks but also in personality. “stubborn, hard-headed. thinks he can take on the world without a scratch,” you sigh.

on one hand, you’re worried that megumi will get in real trouble one day because of it. but on the other hand, your son got an overprotective man as father. you know he will never let any harm befall either of you.

toji raises an eyebrow at your comment. oh, he knows and he’s proud of it. proud of his son, of the family he's created with you. “i mean—he needs to learn to take a few hits if he's gonna survive this world.”

you scoff before hugging megumi one last time. “mm, mama,” the toddler snuggles up to you, small hands clutching your shirt tightly. you feel the weight of his tiny form press against you while his cheek rests against your chest.

there’s something about the clingy way he holds you that melts something deep inside you. you press a gentle kiss to his messy hair, brushing a hand down his back as you breathe in the sweet, comforting scent of his shampoo.

“good night, sweets,” you murur, your voice barely above a whisper. “i love you.”

megumi’s small fingers tighten once more on your shirt as if reluctant to let go. his breathing is steady and you know he’s almost asleep. but then, your son shifts lightly. he pulls back from the hug enough to look up at toji, who’s leaning back against the headboard of the bed. he doesn't say a word, but there’s a clear look of expectation on his face, as though he's waiting for something only his dad can give.

toji meets his gaze with a blank expression that doesn’t give away a thing. he's clueless for a good couple seconds before picking up on what megumi wants.

your husband murmurs something incoherent before relenting. “yeah yeah, c'mere buddy,” he hums, his tone softening. he can't help it—even if he tries not to show the vulnerability in his demeanour.

“yay,” megumi's face brightens up a little and he eagerly reaches up with those tiny hands. toji pulls the kid into his arms, hugging him tighter than expected. the action is a little awkward, but there's no denying the warmth in it.

your heart melts as you witness the adorable scene before you. your son doesn’t seem to mind the tightness as his small arms encircle his father’s neck. it’s a simple moment between father and son, but it’s enough. enough for both of them.

toji pulls back after a little while. his eyes are softer than usual as he pinches megumi's button nose. “good night, kiddo,” he mutters, the words rough but warm, “don't let the bedbugs bite.”

megumi grins sleepily at him as he rubs his eyes. “i’ll kick their ass, papa,” he declares proudly, looking and acting more like his dad with the second. you roll your eyes and stand up from the bed. toji simply snorts, realising his son has picked up on the phrases he uses.

“tha’s right,” your husband nods after standing next to you, “you tell ‘em bedbugs to eat shi—”

“toji ,” you shush him with a swat to the bicep.

megumi lets out a small giggle in reply before laying back on his pillows. you pull the covers up to his chin and watch as his eyes slowly close, his body beginning to relax. the quiet rhythm of his breathing is the only sign of him settling down for the night.

toji lingers by the door and is simply content to watch you. you're always like this—so nurturing. he follows your every move as you leave a final kiss to your son’s cheek. the warmth that radiates in your presence, your affection, the simple yet tender moments are all things that make him fall in love with you over and over again.

you straighten up and turn towards toji, catching him staring. you can see the warmth in his eyes, the way his shoulders are completely relaxed, how that signature smirk of his seems more like a smile in that moment.

you chuckle to yourself before stepping out into the hallway, leaving the door slightly ajar. toji follows with his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. the silence hangs between you two for a bit. it’s comforting and. . . secure.

“y’know, you’re a real softie, toji,” you comment to break the quiet atmosphere. you tilt your head back to look at the dark-haired man who’s now next to you. you know he still struggles with being vulnerable around your son. the sentimentality is still an aspect he's working on.

however, you see it; the emotional side of him. the warmth in his eyes, in his touch, in his words - even if he’s not all that soft spoken.

you can see right through him.

“don't worry though. your secret's safe with me,” you tease with a soft grin.

toji doesn’t say a word for a few seconds before he chuckles under his breath, “just keep that between us, aye?” he responds to your teasing. he’s just glad that he’s married a woman who understands him and accepts him as is.

you both head to the living room. the weight of your day finally seems to lift. the quiet house and the soft breaths of megumi drifting from his room, feels like the calm after a storm. there are challenges ahead, no doubt, but for now everything is alright.

toji wraps his muscular arm around your shoulders as you both sink into the couch. the television playing something in the background, but neither of you pay it much attention. you lean against him and sigh, eyes closing slowly.

“you think he's gonna… turn out okay?” you ask softly. you’re not really sure how to word your worries. your voice holds an uncertainity that causes toji to hold you tighter.

your husband doesn't answer right away. instead, he glances down at you and strokes your hair with his free hand. he nods and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead.

toji leans his head back afterwards, closing his own eyes. no matter what the future holds, he's sure megumi will grow up to be a strong young man.

“yeah. that kid’s gonna be alright.”